POV: Alex

One year later…

It was winter, snow dusting the pathway that animals walked on, a bitter chill in the air, stinging our lungs, exhaling breath visible like puffs of steam. Even with my thick coat of fur, I could still feel it, the spine-tingling sensation, the sharp intakes of air, like I was running out of oxygen. A dark cloud enveloped me in it's comforting embrace, shielding me away from the rest of the world, but also locking me in a cage, one where I lacked the energy to simply unhook the latch and crawl out.

There was nothing left to do when the thoughts came back up, when the butterflies turned to dust that covered my whole room. Punching a hole in the roof only let the rain come in, the flood carrying away all of the pictures of her, the water filling my lungs and drowning me. But in the drowning, in the lifelessness in my eyes, I could feel like I was clean, that she no longer held any power over me.

My head hung low as I lost the war, the sky turning black like the perfect storm. The traces of her were still there, lost in my head, ricocheting off the walls and interrupting lazy thoughts. And with every passing minute, with each new sunrise, a new suffocation added to the already never ending pile on my mind. It was something I couldn't get rid of, no matter how many hours I had spent in therapy, just trying to get her voice out of my head. Months and months of back and forth, arguments tearing my brain apart, pulling and yanking it in different directions. Words that could've been said to resolve the whole situation were a constant echo in my mind. But I was a stupid animal, I was depressed, I was broken, and I was worthless. Those were the words she had used to describe me a couple of times during the mandatory meetings.

I had just turned nineteen, my birthday passing a few months ago. But just because she was gone, just because everyone thought that being an adult would magically fix all my problems, I still resorted to my tendencies. Scars leaked blood, dripping onto tiled floors, eyes filled with nothing but hatred and self loathing. In those moments of pain, from slicing my claws against my forearms and having the blood wash away the hurt, I felt calm, at peace. She wasn't there in my mind when I let the blood rush out, she wasn't there at all.

Being older didn't mean I was fixed, having friends who loved me unconditionally didn't mean I couldn't find ways to screw up everything around me. Relationships were rocky, waves crashing onto the steep cliffs, foaming with the smell of salt. Sometimes I would find myself wanting to jump off those cliffs, plunging into the cleansing waters below. Something had always stopped me though. Stopped me from turning the wheel towards the side of the road, foot pushed on the pedal, stopped me from tying the rope around the tree and kicking the bucket below me.

The water filled my lungs. I screamed so loud, but no one heard a thing.

I took out my phone from my coat pocket, fingers trembling over the number, the one animal who had helped me through it all, the one animal who had done her best to keep me sane in these trying times we weren't trying in.

She picked up after two rings, two horrible, heart pounding, rings. "Alex?" she said, sounding less like a question and more like reassurance.

I controlled my breathing, just like she had told me. "Dr. Sherman, I can't do this, I can't see her." I turned on my heel to leave, walking in the opposite direction away from the dark, barded fenced building.

"Alex," she repeated, a pen clicking in the background. "You can do this, but you don't have to if you don't want to."

"I...I don't want to do it." My heart pounded in my ears, hands trembling as my head flicked back to the building, a war in my body; to go, or not to go.

There was silence on the phone, then she spoke, giving me her full undivided attention. "I know right now you're scared. You're looking back to the building, the memories in your mind telling you that it's wrong, that she was the source of all your problems. But let me tell you one thing, maybe it'll change your mind, maybe it won't. She holds so much power over you, so don't let her. Walk in there, sit down in the allocated space, and talk. She agreed to do it, and you're stronger than you were before. She can't hurt you anymore."

There was the creeping fear of the past, of how she would talk to me, how she would treat me. Everything she had told me was the truth, all of it, even if my fucked up mind contorted it into a lie. But I just wanted to hear those words from someone I had trusted, from someone who I had thought, was perfect in all ways.

Then it turned out she was a murderer.

"Ok," I said, swallowing hard and turning my feet back towards the building with the devil sitting on a pole. "Ok, I'll do it, I'll go in."

There was a sigh of relief on the phone. "Good, good. Mr. Parker will be waiting for you at the front. If anyone talks to you, just ask for him. I've already arranged everything." There was more shuffling as she moved the phone to her other ear. "If you get overwhelmed, if you have any problems, call me and I'll be over as quickly as possible." She chuckled, shuffling papers. "You can do this. I wouldn't have let you go if I didn't believe in you."

"Thanks Dr. Sherman."

With a breath, I shut off my phone, the devil on the light pole flying away, phasing through the walls of the building with his leathery wings and twisting horns. The street lights pointed in an arrowhead, leading me towards the building she was held in, made of sturdy concrete and watchtowers, guards surrounding the exterior.

I can do this.

I can do this.

My coat pocket ratted with pills I had kept in their tiny orange bottle, taking one out and popping a 911. They were a prescription to help with my anxiety, to give me a rush of calmness, peacefulness and serenity. In most cases...I took too many.

The concrete doors enticed me with their many intricacies in how they held shut, eyes squinting at the couple of guards who held out a hand to stop my approach. "Where are you headed?" one of them asked, narrowing his eyes as he blocked my path.

"I...I'm looking for Officer Parker. I was told he was waiting for me."

The guards glanced at one another, eyes scrutinizing my appearance. One of them towered over me, looking down with his dark eyes. Maximum security guards were always wolves...and they were never friendly. "You think you can just walk in here, and ask to see our boss? We know nothing about you, so get the fuck-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Mr. Parker appeared through the concrete doors, saving my life. "It's alright guys," he said, pushing past them, "he's with me." The wolf guards snarled and moved out of the way, Mr. Parker taking my shoulders and guiding me past them. "You seem to make enemies everywhere you go," he whispered in my ear.

We entered what looked like a receptionist area. Mr. Parker walked up to the front while I stood in the back. He whispered something to the lioness working at the desk, phone cord in her hand. She glanced up in my direction, and for a split second, I could sense pity in those green eyes of hers. Her finger moved towards a red button, a buzzing sound as the door to the right of me slid open. Mr. Parker gave a nod of thanks and we walked through the concrete door together.

"What did you talk to her about?" I asked as we passed empty prisoner cells.

He cleared his throat. "Just...about who you're here to see. Anyways, how have you been? It's been a while. Hope you've been treating Steven right." He chuckled at his own joke.

Why was he wanting to talk pleasantries in a place like this? Keeping quiet seemed like the right thing to do. Then again, I was the worst at judging when and when not to talk.

"Right," he said, scanning his badge over a heavy metal door, "you're not one to talk that much. Fine by me. The prisoners here are always shouting and screaming at one another. It's a nice change of pace to finally have someone who stays silent. You know how to hold your tongue, unlike most animals."

My heart was still pounding in my ears, body still telling me that I was in danger, that everything could go wrong at a moment's notice. Even if I had gotten closer to Mr. Parker, it didn't mean I still had a silent panic attack whenever I was around him. Everyone was terrified of the half German Shepard, half grey wolf prison warden. Steven had told me on multiple occasions how his dad almost killed inmates for acting up. It wasn't his fault most of the time, he just couldn't control his strength. A tiny bit of that fear was in my mind as well. What would happen if I went crazy? Who would be able to stop me? The only animal I could think of was Jordan.

Mr. Parker chuckled as we passed inmates in orange prison uniforms. "You look terrified. Are they really that scary?" He flicked an ear towards the inmates.

"No," I said, wishing the conversation would end, but somehow finding the courage to talk. "I just don't want to end up like any of them."

"Everyone says that." There was a hint of sadness to his voice.

We made our way through the maze-like structure of the prison, finally ending a hallway with doors on every side, dark grey concrete. Mr. Parker stopped at one of the doors, hand hesitating over the handle. He glanced over his shoulder. "Are you sure you want to see her? I don't want...anything happening."

"I need to see her," I said, trying to pluck up the confidence in my voice. "She's always in my head, swimming around and doing backflips, having the time of her life. I need her gone...forever. I know she's never going to be truly gone, never going to leave my brain." I sighed, depression was a bitch. "I just think that if I get the chance to talk to her, that maybe it'll...I don't know…"

Mr. Parker looked to the floor. "I understand...probably more than most." He pulled open the door and I stood still for a moment, gathering all my courage then walking through, closing my eyes, focusing on the sound of my heartbeat.

There was a table, much like the one I was thrown against when interrogated. A single bulb hanging from a chain flickered, a giant glass mirror on the opposite side, chairs facing each other. And sitting in one of those chairs with a tired face and sunken eyes, was the one animal who had caused all my problems. Well, Dad was the root because of childhood trauma and all that, but this one animal only made it worse.

She looked up at me as I sat opposite of her, my tail wagging from preconceived notions of happiness.

"Hi, Mrs. Carter," I said, pulling my chair closer, unsure of what to do with my hands. Everything had built up to this moment, and I had finally made it. I was sitting in front of the animal who took me away from my friends, filled my mind with false truths.

It was the best of times, the worst of crimes.

The tires were black, the lies were white.

Mrs. Carter rested a hand on her cheek, eyeing me up and down, until she let it rest on the table. "You don't look any different, and by the way, don't call me 'Mrs. Carter'. It's just Jennifer now."

Why was I afraid of this woman?

She took note of my silence and said, "And why are you here exactly?"

I took off my jacket and hung it on the back of the chair, arms being exposed to the cold interior of the room. "I guess," I said sighing, "I guess I just want to know why you did it."

She scoffed. "Did what?"

I tried being nice, but being polite only got you so far.

My eyes narrowed and I raised an eyebrow. "I don't think I have to tell you."

She slumped back into her chair. "Used you for my own personal gain? It's simple really. Damn, Alex. You haven't changed at all. You're still naïve and clueless to everything."

Because of you I never stray too far from the sidewalk.

Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me.

"I know I'm clueless," I said. "This was a mistake." I got up to leave, grabbing my jacket and heading for the door.

"Alex, wait!" Chains clanged together and I looked back, her legs were chained to the floor, her sunken eyes dark and lifeless. "Stay, please."

And so I sat back down, staring her right in the eyes.

Could you pull me out of this alive?

"The truth is," she said, "you were an easy target, easy from the very beginning. It was only a matter of time before my instincts became a problem, and they eventually ended me up in a situation where I had no choice but to cling to the nearest broken animal."

"Me," I said.

She nodded. "I had to break you down to the point where you only trusted me, where you only wanted to be with me. I knew your friends were special to you, so I made you attack them, I made them hate you and I made you hate them. It was the only way for me to keep you close to me, so that nobody could find out that I ate the rabbit."

"All your hard work for nothing," I said spitefully. "Look where your massive scheme ended you up. Did you think that if you tore me away from everything, they wouldn't become suspicious?"

"When you think you're in danger, you act irrationally."

I crossed my arms, breathing in the musty smell of the room. "But you…" I sighed, hating to say it. "You actually helped me in some ways. For so long, I had never experienced true happiness, or what it was like to fully accept myself as a wolf. You...you let me do that, even if it was misplaced, even if it was wrong, and even if it hurt me later on in life. I was able to feel it… even if it was temporary."

"I don't know how to feel," she said. "Somedays I feel guilty for doing what I did. And some days, I'm indifferent."

How many days did I spend thinking about how you did me wrong?

I couldn't get away from you, free rent living in my mind.

"You should feel guilty," I said. "You should hate yourself for what you did." I bit my tongue, holding back other words I wanted to say to her.

Mrs. Carter chuckled. "I honestly thought you would say something worse than that. But by the way you're biting your cheek, I'm sure there's more you want to say."

"There's a lot I would like to say to you, but it wont make a difference." The room was spinning from the panic in my body, trying to just keep it all together, to keep it in, to bottle it all up. The pills weren't working and I was tempted to swallow more, to feel a rush of calmness.

Then I stopped and closed my eyes as I lowered my head, speaking softly to myself. "Just keep breathing."

Mrs. Carter raised an eyebrow. "I don't know why you're scared of me. There's nothing I can do here. Cameras are all around and the warden is looking through the glass." I glanced over, seeing nothing. "It's a two-way mirror. They can see you, but you can't see them." She added a tiny smirk. "I'm sure there's something else you want to talk about. So go ahead."

"You're the one you asked me to stay," I said. "So what is it you're not telling me? Why do you want me to stay?"

"Because you're the only animal here who hasn't tried to actively kill me. That has to be worth something, right?"

My eyebrows creased and I leaned forward in my chair. "They know what you did?"

She rolled her eyes and I imagined a cigarette in her hand, she seemed like the type of animal to smoke. She relaxed her fingers, chains clanking on the floor. "Everybody here knows what everyone's done. Jaina, one of my cell mates, real sweet girl, murdered her husband because he cheated on her. Now, my husband is already dead," she said full of laughter. "But some days I do miss him. Not because he was a good animal, no, he was horrible, a flaming pile of shit." She flicked the ash off the cigarette. "It was just nice to have company, someone who actively challenged me, even if it meant a few bruises here and there."

My chest filled with pity, wanting to help the animal out who sat in front of me. Was it wrong of me to still have some small shred of decency? To believe that everyone, even her, deserved kindness? Maybe I was in the wrong, or maybe, I was in the right. Nobody was there to tell me, nobody had told me having the feeling to help someone, even if they were horrible to you, was right or wrong. Or maybe, there was no right or wrong. Just another one of those grey areas.

She kept her hands in her lap. "And how is that girl of yours doing? I believe her name is Jordan. Although, it's been so long I can hardly keep track of the names at the school, let alone the days that pass by."

I couldn't help but smile a bit, relaxing my tense shoulders. "Jordan is doing fine. Right now she's in the process of moving into her dorm at college."

"And you're here?"

My hands returned to their shaky disposition, my gaze low to the table. "I've tried to move in...but it's hard. Ever since meeting you and...I don't know. Being back in a place of school just doesn't seem like the right move for me."

She reached over to touch my face and I flinched back. She sighed, sitting back down in her chair, buzzing lights filling the air. "'Sorry' can't fix what I've done, I know that," she said sorrowfully. "But take it from someone who's been through hell and back just like you. Go to college, make friends, grow up. Being in this city for the rest of your life, constantly thinking about me isn't going to bring you the peace you want."

Disgusted wrote itself all over my face. "Why are you trying to help me? You're the one who made me like this, you ' re the one I see on strangers faces."

She shook her head, the soft cracking of fingers echoing throughout the room. "You were already like this when you came into my office. For a couple of days I had thought about whether actually helping you or not. Animals like me, the ones who work in my field, tend to understand more than most. We become who we are because of our own inability to process our own trauma, hoping the things we learn along the way will somehow make us feel better, that, maybe, we could use our own teachings. ."

She tried to stand up, but the chains kept her to the floor. "I know your dad may have made up with you, and you're both lovey dovey now. It still doesn't change the fact that he is the one who screwed you up in the first place."

"No," I said sternly, "I'm not going to let you get inside my head again."

"It's called having an abusive parent, Alex," she said with a smirk. "When you're young, like you were, your brain doesn't know how to process anything. Each small inconvenience is the end of the world, and the 'happy' times, are the best days of your life. At your age, you couldn't process what was happening, you couldn't just get up and leave. So you had to stay, and you had to take the abuse. In some ways, it has made you stronger, but the bad outweighs the good here."

"How the hell would you know!" I shouted, anger boiling in my blood. "You didn't grow up with herbivore parents, you didn't have to hide away because your family is scared of you!" My voice became emotional, tears welling in my eyes. "I was all alone, for so long, and I hated myself for being different, I hated everything! I had to become the wolf in sheep's clothing, because if I didn't, I was beaten!" My voice went low, growling and snarling. "So how can you say, 'I don't know how to process it." Of course I didn't know how to process it, I still don't!"

She chuckled, putting a hand on my shoulder and lowering me back down to the chair. I didn't flinch, I allowed her to touch me. "I don't know what it's like," she said. "I didn't grow up with herbivore parents. My family loved each other. My mom stayed at home and my dad worked nine to five. Our cheetah household was perfect. And then here I am, broken just as badly as you."

I scoffed. "Being broken is a contest now?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "Alex, letting go of the past is hard, it's always going to be hard. But it doesn't mean it's impossible, it doesn't mean you have to let it envelope you and tear you apart. Sure, the dark cloud is comforting, tempting, even. But yesterday is gone, you have to keep moving on. You can't forget what happened in your past, you won't be able to forget about what I did to you, and neither will I. It's a burden I have to share as well."

It's so hard to say goodbye.

"Your burden!?" I shouted. "I wake up screaming, thrashing about because of nightmares you gave to me. I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me! I can't leave my house because just the sheer fear of having a panic attack makes me have a panic attack. So how is it your burden? Tell me!"

Silence filled the air, my breathing rapid and heavy, teeth grinding together, barely keeping the emotions in. I was lost with no direction, had nowhere to go. Mrs. Carter gave me a direction, pointed me in the place I wanted to go to, but not the place I needed to go to.

My ears perked up at her sigh. "You don't think I feel guilty?" she said. "Because I do, all the time. I used to help animals, I used to treat their mental illness with talking and therapy and medication and...and everything. So to fall so far from grace, to break the promise I made to 'do no harm' all goes down the drain, because of you. I hurt you beyond imagination, and I'm not asking for forgiveness, I don't want forgiveness. I'm stuck in here for the rest of my life because of the things that I've done. And that guilt builds up, and I bottle it up and throw it out the window. I don't let it consume me like it used to. It's not healthy, it's not good, and it's not normal. Hell, who is normal these days? Everyone has something to hide, everybody has their own problems that barely achieve our level of brokenness."

"So, what?" I said, eyes glancing over to the two-way mirror. "I'm just supposed to count my blessings? To thank whatever god that exists, that my life isn't as horrible as other animals?"

She rubbed her temples. "No, everyone is entitled to their own problems, no matter how big or small. All I'm saying is you're lucky. You have Steven, you have Jordan, and you have the police warden on your side." She looked back, then over to me. "You know, he is kinda hot. Think you could introduce me to him?"

I couldn't help but laugh. Whether it was misplaced laughter, or the fact that she was so open after being so horrible. My ears fell flat as I leaned back in the chair, hands fiddling with the aglets on my jacket. "I just...I just want it all to go away, and I don't know how to do it. So I thought coming here might give me some sort of closure, or...I don't know."

"I know you want it to go away," she said. "We all want our pain to go away, to just wash away with the rain. But let me tell you this, don't think about me."

I chuckled. "Do you realize how stupid you sound?"

She nodded her head. "Of course I do, I just said it." She added a tiny smile. "The truth is easier than it seems. It's hard to forget, it's hard to let go, it's something we all have to learn to do, one way or another." She extended her hand and I took it. "So," she said with a loose grip, "when you see me on the sidewalk, look a little bit closer. Better yet, talk to that animal. When you think of me at night, distract yourself. When you wake up from a nightmare, call the animals you hold dear. Let go of me, leave me to rot in the cell, in this prison, like I deserve. Leave me be, and I'll be gone from your head forever."

"But how do I-"

She shushed me. "The truth is easier to ignore, believe me. So don't ignore it. When the pain comes back up, when the emotions start, fight back."

Your eyes have told a thousand lies, but I believe them when they look in mine.

And I know you're not good for me, I know it's not meant to be.

So how do I let go? How do I forget you existed?

"Fight back with what?" I said as she held my hand, letting it fall steadily to the table.

"I'm not an idiot, you know. I know you have Dr. Sherman looking after you." She shook her head with a smile. "She's the best animal for you. You two have a lot in common...and I mean a lot ."

"She doesn't really talk about her past," I said, thinking back to the time in Dr. Sherman's office where she avoided the question. Then realization sank into my heart. "Is she...is she lying to me too? Just like you did?"

"I never lied to you, Alex. I just told you what you wanted to hear. And no, she isn't lying to you, she isn't keeping information about herself classified. She's just let go of her past, she understands it's more important to accept what has happened, and continue on. She doesn't let it get to her."

"How can I trust you?" I said, holding back tears. "How...after everything you've done?"

"You don't have to trust me, in fact, it's probably a bad idea if you do. So, what I want you to do is walk out of that door, and leave me forever. Walk outside, go home, talk to your parents, tell you friends, and forget I existed. It's hard, I know. But it's the one thing you can do. You may think I'm lying, and you may hate me forever, honestly you have every right to. But once you forget about me, you'll forget about the lies. Don't put a face or a name to the damages, don't put anything to them. Don't give me the power to corrupt your dreams or your mind. Don't give me that satisfaction."

"Ok," I said. "I'll try."

She patted my hand and the door opened, Mr. Parker standing with a candid smile. I stood up from the chair, taking my jacket and making my way over to Mr. Parker. Just before leaving, I turned back, and she wasn't looking at me, she was staring at the wall, muttering to herself.

Mr. Parker leaned in to whisper. "She's going a bit crazy here. Doctors say she has Alzheimer's."

She'll forget all about me, so I'll do the same.

Mr. Parker led me to the front of the prison, rain coming down hard, a dark grey sky above. So I walked out, letting the rain hit my fur, letting it wash away everything. It no longer filled my lungs, no longer was I drowning in it. It was over, well, nothing was ever really over.

An umbrella popped open to my right, my eyes shooting over to the white animal.

"How did it go?" Jordan asked, holding the umbrella over me, rain falling off it in tiny drops.

I took her hand, water rushing down the streets into the sewers, animals giggling and quickening their pace through the unexpected shower.

"I think I'm finally clean."

Ten months older, I won't give in. Now that I'm clean, I'm never gonna risk it.

The rain came pouring down when I was drowning and that's when I could finally breathe. And by morning, gone was any trace of you.

I think I am finally clean.