I suppose resuming a normal life was the normal thing to do.
I mean, did I honestly expect myself to sit around with my hands planted on my ass for the rest of my life?
I guess I won't know if I won't try…
Right?
Quite often I found myself questioning why I was where I was, and why I chose to be where I currently was. I felt out of place, out of mind and incredibly out of my comfort zone as I sunk further back into the hard plastic of the chair. I chose to avoid glancing at either side of me to view the other 'competition' as it were that remained in this little game House had devised for his own personal pleasure. Right now, I was just number 18 amidst 6 other potential-fellows that remained.
Right now, I wasn't Cora Harmlet.
Not according to House anyway. I didn't take it personally though… He hadn't invited us all here to take part in a group story-telling activity where we could all exchange details of our hobbies and then laugh about it over an open campfire following a hard-day's work. Although, that would be quite a nice environment to work in. Rather, he'd invited us here based on our skills, our drive and our persistence to gain his attention. We all wanted to be here, and we yearned to be close to one of, if not the greatest Diagnostician in this country, perhaps the world. Of course, my recent disconnect from humanity hadn't quite upped my odds in terms of me gaining a spot as one of his understudies.
Now, I'd been quite careful and particular in putting my job application together when I applied for this job. A flourishing career as an endocrinologist, 6 years of 'blank' and now this tended to raise a few eyebrows when it came to re-asserting myself back into the workforce. And to set the record straight, I didn't have a kid, I didn't have a record and I wasn't on the run from any European criminal syndicates. The 'blank' in my life I so delicately attempted to cover up with fraudulently fabricated small part-time jobs, falsified travel documents and a list of agreed-alibis almost as long as the glossary of a dictionary was enough to keep people from prying too far into my personal life.
Except House.
Of course I knew the man was brilliant, highly intelligent and exceptionally curious when it came to mysteries; otherwise he wouldn't be into diagnostic medicine. However when it came to hiding certain aspects of my life, I often thought of myself as a brick wall. Many had commented in the past that I was often the hardest to read, hiding my true persona behind those crystal blue eyes of mine I valued so dearly.
So did I expect House to go digging, prying and cracking into my own personal secrets? Of course I did, I wasn't stupid. I knew exactly what he was like. In fact, it was probably the only reason I was still here and hadn't been put on the chopping block. No doubt mine was one of the first to be shortlisted, most likely due to the 6 suspicious years I cared not to bring up.
But, while he was exceptionally good at what he did, I was exceptionally better at what I did, and that wasn't allowing my personal life to crossover into my newest attempt to slide myself back into a certain degree of normalcy, and possibly scraping back a little humanity on the side.
So the question beckoned, exactly what happened in those 6 years of my life that I chose not to disclose openly and freely among my peers. It was… Well, extremely and entirely complicated. Actually, take the world complicated and enhance it by a few thousand factors. It was fair to say in those 6 years I lost a part of my humanity, and it somehow managed to pull it back towards me. But it wasn't all that bad, because I'd gained a part of me to. Often I would curse and cringe at the thought of it, and habitually tried to fight it, but eventually I slowly and surely learnt to accept it.
This 'issue' I suffered had a name. I didn't like thinking it, I never said it and when it came up on a TV show or a movie I simply flicked over to the next channel.
Lycanthropy.
Also commonly known as being a 'werewolf'. I hated the word, I cringed at the thought and there were times when I found myself having a good, hard chuckle because clearly, this 'had' to be a joke. But when my body started to ache as the cycle began to kick into gear, the laughing stopped.
And just to clarify a few little misconceptions from what you've seen on TV or read in a book, I don't become a mindless, blood-seeking mutant wandering the streets and tearing out the abdomens of anyone unfortunate to wander nearby. My cycles aren't specifically monthly and bound by the chains of the full moon (although it does play it's part), and I don't have a constant, undying lust for blood. To clarify, when I shift, I am aware of my surroundings. My human mind is stable and coherent, sharing a room with the inner 'wolf' who (even in my human form) has unfortunately 'blessed'me with certain animalistic instincts and rarely, certain behaviors most often limited to the canine variety (nothing serious, except setting off every animal in the vicinity if I approached them).
Certain aspects such as aggression and higher doses of adrenaline haunted me in that form, yet over time (especially in those 6 years) I had gained greater control over the shift. It still felt like a thousand knives were being plunged into every inch of skin and slowly being twisted as my body contorted and twisted into its new shape. Muscle density increased, chemicals pumping through me like I were partying at a Rave hosted by Wiz Khalifa and blood often spurting out from every orifice as organs failed and un-failed while I would be forced to carry it through until the end.
But to be entirely honest, I was quite proud of the finished product. I wasn't a cute, little fluffy puppy like something out of Twilight (no offense Jacob), and I wasn't an anorexic bipedal stick-man who looked like they'd lost a battle with shaving cream and a razor (Remus Lupin, I still admire you for how J.K made you). Think more Underworld.
I was tall, muscular and thankfully both bipedal, yet I could move swiftly and powerfully better on all fours as a wolf would do upon bolting in the midst of the hunt. My skin would drop a few pigments in shade to a demonized black, and was covered in a thin layer of dark fur, although still allowing the skin to be revealed beneath. My hands and feet were elongated, with razor sharp claws extending from each bone structure on the front limbs was familiarly human, yet the bones and joints of my lower limbs had the distinct outline, much similar to a wolf yet still holding human qualities. And my face held qualities from both species. Ears were refined to a slender point; my jaw extended to an almost-canine muzzle hiding deadly teeth and both the iris and pupil blending in to a lethal combination of black. So, like I said before; think Underworld. To be fair, they're about the only movie that practically nailed it spot on the head when it came to werewolf folklore and popular culture. Doesn't mean I could bring myself to watch it after 'this' happened though.
Fortunately for me, I maintained my human form most of the time. I wasn't anything to rave about really, just a 5'7" brunette with shoulder-length hair, 99% of the time tied back into a convenient pony tail. I was of a slender build, displaying no real 'assets' and had one of those 'plain' faces, with the exception of my crystal blue hues that appeared as my one striking feature. I was attractive to some degree with no major blemishes, but usually the first to blend into a crowd. I didn't mind it, in fact I was thankful for it and it generally drew less attention towards me, but there was something about the full moon that gave me a little more 'presence' in a room. Whether it be pheromones, a touch of added-attitude or just coincidence, I couldn't be sure. But it lined up generally every full moon.
The thing about my cycles and the full moon was a complicated one. Yes, we were bound by the whole 'power of the moon' concept, so it was often around the time of the full moon when I would feel my body force the shift a little more aggressively, but we weren't slaves to it. I could often force my change at will, and sometimes forgo it, but certain instincts inside me led me to do it on a weekly basis. Otherwise I found myself to be moody, irritable or just honestly a bit of an asshole.
So, in a large and convoluted nutshell, that was me. That is me today, and I have been 'me' since 6 years ago. The 'bite'is another story in itself, and I might be so inclined to share if I wasn't sitting in a room, twiddling my thumbs as I waited for House to stroll in and start picking away at our personalities, piece by piece.
This may make me anxious, and I may feel uncomfortable sitting here, but what brought a small smirk to my face was the fact that while I sat here with all these other people, I could momentarily forget about my issue. Right now, I was number 18, and nothing more, nothing less.
