Hafsa stares at the small sprig of violet chrysanthemums taped to the box of chocolates. She's carried the small shrink-wrapped box of rattling sugary sweets halfway across town, from the steps of her house all the way to the front of St. Assisi Hospital. She can feel the little chocolate spheres roll from end to end despite her best efforts to keep her grip steady. Why, she wonders, hasn't she just put in in her purse? Well, it's too late for that now.
In the reception, she inquires about one Sheep Desmond, who according to his ram fighting friends, should be recovering in this hospital from their unfortunate day at the beach. In typical Hafsa fashion, the idea of a surprise visit seemed like a fun possibility, but as she passes the eerily aseptic halls of the medical center, the more she begins to doubt her plan. The two hadn't spoken a word to each other in about three days. She's well aware that Desmond isn't the type of animal that texts on the regular. But even he would want to update his companions on his health after such an incident… right? Even if it's only an "I didn't die" in the group chat?
And so, Hafsa decided to check up on her friend. They are friends. Are they friends? At the very least, she was his savior from a watery grave. It would still be her responsibility to keep an eye on him, no? She wants to see him. Isn't that enough? Would some kind of divine punishment strike her down if she doesn't coat herself in dozens of layers of well-reasoned justifications?
The small, jet black print reads 832. It's engraved solemnly on the door's plaque. The mare at reception claimed this was the room. Hafsa's ear twitches. She taps a knuckle on the door's smooth wood as gently as she can. Once, twice, three times. Maybe she was too gentle-?
"Come in." That familiar voice jolts her brain back into "socialization mode". A wide grin settles itself on her face, and she opens the door.
The room is very bright; the jarring sunlight refracting off of the pure white walls and linoleum floors. The only respite from such violent disinfection is the cool dark patches of wool that lay on the hospital bed: Desmond. As soon as he sees her, his eyes widen. However, his surprise shows no signs of appreciation.
"You called for a nurse?" The serval teases, approaching his bedside. "We're gonna need 10 cc's of chocolate, stat!" With that, she playfully tosses her gift on his lap.
He grabs the jingling box of sweets and gazes at it blankly, but soon brings his attention back to the feline. "What are you doing here?"
Hafsa's brows furrow to match his. "You've gotta get better with greeting people, Des. I came to see how you're doing!"
"You need to leave. Now."
"Wha—" Before the word leaves her mouth, she hears the sound of the door opening once more behind her. This time, a middle-aged Jacob ewe enters the room, with two rams following closely.
"Hey, Dezzy—" The tallest of the Jacob sheep, who Hafsa recognizes to be Kane, starts, but his words equally fail him upon seeing Desmond is not alone.
A harsh shriek pierces the brilliant room. Its source, the ewe, blanches in horror at the serval, dropping the parcel she had been carrying with a thud. In a flash, she lunges towards Hafsa, bashing her gut in with a walloping headbutt. The collision forcibly expels all the air from her lungs, the cold, hard horns plunged deep against her chest, pressing against her very heart. The impact is so painful Hafsa nearly loses consciousness right there, but somehow manages to cling on despite her vision and leg strength abandoning her.
"Get away from him, PREDATOR!" Th ewe screeches over the serval's collapsed body. "Security! Security!"
Desmond leaps out of bed and pushes her away from the carnie. "MOTHER! Enough! She's a classmate!" He turns back to Hafsa, still writhing on the floor. "Are you okay?"
"I've felt b-better…" She sputters.
After some very tense minutes of explaining what was happening, both to his family and to the hospital staff who had overheard the altercation, Desmond returns to lie on the hospital bed, Hafsa slouched over on a nearby chair one one side, and the three other Jacob sheep on the other.
"So you're the student council president, eh?" The eldest ram, presumably Desmond's father, asks.
"Y-yes, sir." She manages her friendliest voice, though it still does out fairly strained. "Serval Hafsa."
"Funny," Desmond's mother icily glares at her son, who remains unblinkingly transfixed on the bedsheets. "You've never told me the student council president is a carnie."
Hafsa feels a lot like a mosquito trapped in a spider's web right now, unable to break free from the intensely hostile grip of the ewe. From the atmosphere alone, one couldn't distinguish the herbivore from the carnivore.
"I'm not quite sure who taught you your manners, Serval Hafsa," She continues with a sneer. "But a carnie should not be in a room alone with a herbie, much less an injured herbie."
Hafsa expects Desmond to snap back in his usual fashion, going on about how is is perfectly capable of taking on any carnivore, injured or no. But instead, the ram has fallen horribly quiet, not even looking up from his lap.
"I'm sorry." She flattens her ears. "Desmond and I often work together alone so I thought—" Desmond flinches at the sentence, as if predicting a punishment. Lo and behold, it appears.
"You what?!" The ewe yells. "A carnie and a herbie in a room unsupervised? Do you do this often?"
Desmond's father places a hand over her shoulder. "Now, now, Orla, there's no need for this."
"No need?! The carnie locks our boy up in a room with her all night and there's no need?"
"Ma, don't shout in front of company." Kane says, spoken as more of a suggestion than a proper command. "Dezzy told me Hafsa here is the one who dragged him out of the ocean."
"Th-that's right!" Hafsa laughs nervously, eager to shine a more flattering light on herself. "I'm just glad I managed to get him in time—"
"Oh, did you?" The ewe's voice drips with contempt. "Were you also the one that suggested the entire trip?"
If Hafsas's stomach hadn't been in knots before, it certainly is now.
"I—"
"Inviting a sheep to a beach… it's grossly inconsiderate at best, and suspicious at worst."
Wait.
"Why you'd want to spend time around a vulnerable sheep who has nowhere to run instead of your own kind is beyond me."
This isn't fair.
"Perhaps him going in the water was part of your plan all along."
That isn't true.
"And 'rescuing' him was just an excuse to get your paws on him before anyone else could."
That's not—!
"Being near him every day at that school. I bet your mind starts racing with thoughts of what to do with him."
I'm not—!
"Don't tell me you don't think about it. About eating Desmond."
Say something!
"Isn't that right, predator?"
The loud screech of Hafsa's chair against the linoleum floor startles everyone. In a flash, she's back on her feet. With her eyes lit up a violent shade of amber, she glares at the sheep with pupils as thin as eyelashes. First at the father, who offers an apologetic gaze. Then at Kane, who quietly mumbles something about changing the subject under his breath. Then at the mother, whose gaze, despite still being fierce, twitches in and out of fear.
And lastly at Desmond, who even now has not opened his mouth or dared to look anywhere but down at the box of sweets he has clutched in his hands.
That's all she needed to see.
"Sorry to disturb."
Humiliation of this caliber, Hafsa thought, only came once in a lifetime. She had been relieved to know that after the incident with Ronnie and the Crazy Kitty Killer, she would never have to be subjected to such moral degradation ever again. She had already reached her rock bottom.
Then perhaps it is Hafsa's unbeatable luck that brought such a humiliation twice in her still-young lifetime.
Life is made of reminders. And Hafsa has been forgetting far too much this year. She dared to dream she had been wrong all along, that maybe the truth is what you make of it. That maybe, daring to frustrate yourself over these tried and true facts can lead to change. What a sickeningly naive idea.
It would have been bad if Desmond's mother were some paranoid nut job who considers every carnivore a killer, but it wouldn't have amounted to much. Why would Hafsa care if she were being called something she isn't? Clearly the people who know her would never believe something so baseless.
It would have been bad, but it would have been fine. But it wasn't baseless. His mother may very well be deranged, but her words were anything but foreign to Hafsa. Because no matter how much she claims to have changed, claims to have grown, claims to have learned, and accepted, and overcome… she was still a meat-eater.
Even if she and Desmond walk together in the hallways, she secretly knows she could easily outrun and overpower him. Even if she and Desmond eat together, she secretly knows she salivates more when he is next to her. Even if she and Desmond joke around together, she secretly knows that the friendly nudges she gives him aren't purely innocent. She knows the thousands of intrusive thoughts that flicker around in her brain, no matter how well they get along. She thinks about eating him sometimes. So she is a predator.
And by the way Desmond didn't even spare a breath to defend her, he must know too. He must feel fear the same way she feels hunger. Maybe he's always wanted a way out of this, even unconsciously so. To think, she tried to ignore all of this because of her own personal feelings. How selfish.
She wasn't sure why, but even though Hafsa sobs against her pillow, she can't help but let out a few chuckles in between hiccups. There's a certain hilarity to how obvious the entire situation is juxtaposed by how hard she tried to fight it. It's like seeing someone fail to tie their shoelaces over and over again in the middle of the street. It's so pathetic is funny.
She feels a vibration next to her, and sees that her phone is ringing. Flipping the phone over, she makes out the name blurred behind her tears. Desmond.
She shouldn't pick it up. But maybe the drunken stupor of an emotional meltdown has dulled her common sense enough to go through with it. She coughs and clears out her throat as best she can to at least sound like she's not as miserable as she really is, and presses the green answer button.
"What?"
"You've gotta get better with greeting people." Desmond chuckles dryly on the other side, but lets out a long sigh after seeing that no one is amused. "Listen, I'm sorry about that. I tried to warn you."
Hafsa remains silent.
"M-my mother's always been like that. Well, ever since Ms. Lily. I… really didn't want it to come to this."
"They're gone now?"
"Yeah, visiting hours are over. It's just me."
Hafsa scoffs. "You can't even call to apologize with her around?"
Desmond sighs again, this one louder with frustration. "Listen, I'm sorry I didn't say anything back then. I should've, but—"
"But you knew she was right."
"Don't be stupid. I've told you before that I don't see you like that anymore."
"That's a lie."
"It's not!" His voice trembles through the speakers. "I wanted to stand up for you, Hafsa. I did. But looking my mother in the eye and telling her to trust another carnivore, another feline… I froze up. I'm not ready to tell her that I'm trying to move on."
"Then you shouldn't."
"Hafsa—"
"You didn't say anything because you're a coward." Hafsa states with abnormal calm. "Just like you were when we first met. You're scared of carnivores, you're scared of me, and you're scared of yourself. And you should be."
"Are you fucking insane? How could you say that knowing what my family has been through? What I've been through?!" The sheep cries.
"Do you want me, Desmond?"
The ram falls in stunned silence after hearing this.
"Because I want you. I want you so bad. I want to take a bite out of you every time I see you. I want to hug you as tightly as I can to hear your heartbeat, and then I want to rip it right out of your chest. I want to have you. I want to eat you. But I care about you. So much. And I know that our relationship isn't healthy. You don't deserve to have a friend you can't defend. And I don't deserve to torture myself by feeling like a monster every time I look at you."
"Hafsa…"
"I'm grateful I've had you in my life, Desmond. And I'm grateful for today. So do yourself a favor and listen to your mother.
And pray we never end up in a room alone together."
Desmond lies awake in bed that night with the sound of the dial tone echoing in his mind.
AN: Thanks for reading! Kind of a whiplash compared to last chapter, huh? Also, betcha didn't expect the beach episode to have major canonical implications! I hope Hafsa's decision was not too sudden. It's an outburst I believe makes sense considering her rather emotionally driven epiphany. I'd like to hear your thoughts on the matter. Why do you think she did it?
Also, the comments on last chapter were so incredibly sweet, but I was hesitant to reply to all of them for fear of clogging up my comments section with my needless gratitude. I'll state here how much I loved to read them (as well as all of your comments) and that I'm glad you enjoyed last chapter! As for this one, who knows?
Take it easy and stay safe.