"Hi there, Mrs. Richardson. Dr. James Hughes."

The tall, lanky, ginger that sat across from me stood and extended his hand.

I rose to meet him.

"A pleasure." He smiled and every freckle that dotted his face moved with his dimples. I had to admit, it was hard not to smile back at him. He had a goofy face and his bright striped necktie contrasted to his sickly, gray suit. He sat back in his chair with a loud exhale and crossed his legs curtly. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the corners of his clipboard, almost giddy to pick apart my brain one coping skill at a time.

He continued to grin, which made my stomach burn and I did my best to avoid his intruding stare. I tried to look at anything except him and his narrow, emerald eyes. He tapped his foot to a silent melody as I gazed around his office. It sure didn't look like any other room at the base, or any that I'd seen. None were this zesty, or colorful. The rainbow painted bookshelf was easily the most boring object in the room.

His desk sat next to him, covered with stacks of paper and scattered pens leaking bright colored ink. The walls were yellow and covered with motivational posters that said things like, "Strength", "Confidence" and "Success". A toy chest lined with hand painted giraffes sat wide open in the corner, slinks, action figures, blocks, and puzzles spilling out of the side. Who was this cook? Some slime-ball they plucked from a communal mental ward funded by a chain restaurant?

"So what brings you in here today, Miss Richardson?"

I jerked slightly, forgetting there was another human in the room. I pulled the sleeve of my sweatshirt up to my wrists and fiddled with the seam with my finer tips. I was still having a hard time meeting his gaze.

"Or, may I say…" he flipped through a few pages and smiled. "'Abigail'?" He snickered slightly, but his wide grin disappeared as he glanced back at me.

I felt my cheeks burn red, hot with embarrassment. "Er… Molly is fine." I said curtly, bringing my legs to a crossed position in the large green chair.

He regained his composure and nodded in understanding.

"You can call me Dr. Jim. Or Dr. Jimbo. Always wanted a nick name, I did." His British accent became more prevalent the more his mouth moved. "Not the bloody pet names I get from this lot." He said shaking his head.

I stifled a chuckle thinking about Link, Doc and Bob giving him a hard time. Oh the possibilities…

"Now anyways, as I was saying," he cleared his throat and I resurfaced from my musings. "What brings you into my office this morning, Molly?" He asked squinting in a concerned, shrink kind of way, his lips slightly pursed.

"Are you kidding me?" I asked, exhausted.

"I don't believe I follow you…" he said, shaking his head.

"Is this how you start every session around here?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Well," he started, caught off guard. "Bob and I usually start off with a game of 'guess that animal', or some cognitive ability recognition with those blocks. Bob never can tell the red ones from… any of them actually… a few sandwiches short of the picnic, that one," he said looking off into space. "…and Link always starts off by insulting my tie of the week. Very shirty, don't you think?" He fiddled with his tie slowly. "You don't think it's too 'flashy' do you?" He asked, clearly concerned.

"Dr. Jim…" I said rubbing my forehead.

"Oh, look at me, going on about my fashion sense. Poppycock, it is!"

Mysteriously, my headache was getting worse. I took a deep breath and looked at him, waiting for him to stop laughing. In an effort to make myself more comfortable, I shifted in my seat but much to my dismay, I rolled onto a toy soldier. Grimacing, I removed it out from underneath my ass and held it up.

"Oh dear," he said holding out his hand to take the figure out of my grasp. "I do apologize, this place has gone to shambles," he muttered under his breath.

"Can I go now?" I asked.

"Well, not exactly. It's almost half past and we still have another forty-five minutes! General Monger insists that I see every participant of the base at least once a month, if not more. Now we can't lallygag anymore," he said, attempting to rain in his goofiness. He pulled his fingers into a dramatic fist and shook out his limbs slightly. "Back to business." He began to say something, but stopped short, looking uncertain.

"What?" I asked annoyed.

"Why are you here?" He asked, pointing his pen at my chest.

I gave it some thought. "Because I'm a bloodthirsty monster? I thought that was obvious," I guessed.

"You know, I never did hear that story, care to enlighten me?" He tapped his pencil on his clipboard.

"I don't know, Doc," I said quietly.

"Come now, Molly I promise I won't bite. Not unless you're that jelly tart grandmother sent over in her care package last week," he motioned for me to continue. "Please, go on."

I sighed. "Fine."

"About two months ago, I ended up in Vegas. And like everything there, things got a little out of hand." I pushed my hair back and behind my ear. "I don't really remember much of what happened to be honest with you," I chuckled nervously. "Woke up here. In this…" I looked around with my hands in midair, at a loss for words. "…prison." For the first time, Dr. Jim was silent.

He nodded slowly and readjusted himself. "I see. Now tell me the the real story."

"That is the real story!" I said defiantly.

"I don't think so," he glanced up. "Start from the beginning. Your story. Why are you here?" He asked pointedly.

I blew a raspberry and frowned. "I can't remember, Doc."

"Try."

I paused for a moment and thought about it. Where had it all begun? What happened that fateful afternoon?

"…I—I was visiting my aunt for the summer." The image of uncaring, worry-free, and senseless Molly Richardson came flooding into my head, as if the giant golden gates of emotional repression had been pushed open, forcing me to remember the day when it all began.

The sky was a sickly grayish color and the drive up the mountain was a slow and ominous one. I pressed my boney hands up against the passenger seat window and watched as the clear horse ranches slowly manifested into large fir trees that reached as high as the cloudy, sky. My aunt pulled into a dirt parking lot and hit the brakes. The impact sent my small stature forward but the seatbelt caught me mid-thrust. I unbuckled myself, swung open the door, —which was twice as large as me— and let my booted foot hit the rocky ground. The air that surround us was thick, and just cold enough to send a light layer of goosebumps across my exposed legs. I quickly realized that it wasn't the brightest idea to wear cargo shorts half passed four. I rubbed my hands together vigorously and shoved them in my jacket pocket. The faint cry of an eagle echoed above and I looked up at the giant gathering of forestry before me.

My aunt put her hands on her hips and sighed.

"This old gal is the baddest bitch in Colorado."

I felt a lump begin to form at the back of my throat as I stared at the gathering of trees. "Trek this, and your junior high drama will be like 'this' big." She joined her thumb and pointer finger together and squinted.

"I don't think I can do this," I gulped.

My aunt gave me a look of frustration."Oh please. Born and raised here in mountain city; you hiked the grand canyon, and yellowstone by the time you were seven," She counted on her fingers. "I think you can handle this."

I sighed and adjusted the pack that hung loosely on my shoulders.

As we trekked further and further into the forest, all sense of direction seemed to deteriorate with every step we took. My aunt checked her compass every couple of minutes just to be sure we weren't digging ourselves into a hole we couldn't climb out of. The trail was fading but a shadow of what once was still remained barely visible. The atmosphere, while beautiful and serene, was eery. The only thing we heard for most of the hike was the echo of our own footsteps.

"Almost no one ever comes around these parts anymore," my aunt said, shaking her head. "So what, you get yourself caught in a few bear traps, eat some poisonous berries and get trampled by some moose. Big deal." She laughed to herself, but the thought of a moose crushing me to death with its dirt encrusted hooves didn't seem like the best way to spend my summer leisure time. I nodded and adjusted my backpack. The weight of it had been digging into my shoulders, and slowed me down a considerable amount. My aunt raised an eyebrow and held out her hand.

"Here, let me." She threw the pack over her shoulder on top of hers with a small grunt.

"Thanks," I said rubbing my shoulder. "That pack was killing me." I grinned sheepishly.

"Maybe it's time to set up shop, s'getting late," she said with a grunt. "Besides," she raised her eyebrows."It's moose feeding time."

I shivered looking around for any stray moose and etched a little closer to my aunt who began picking up the pace again.

Eventually, by the time the sun began to set, we'd already pitched the tent, rolled out the sleeping bags and refilled the water bottles.

"All we need now is a fire…" she frowned and stroked her chin thoughtfully.

"I wonder where we can find some of that, in the middle of the wilderness." She turned to me with a chuckle.

"I'm on the case chief," I said. With a quick salute, I turned on my heels, my large hiking boots digging into the dirt, and set off to find some firewood.

"Hey!" She yelled after me.

I turned quickly just in time to catch a large black flashlight. I laughed nervously and waved in the air.

"Seriously, don't be too long. It's easy to get lost in these parts, even with a torch."

I nodded. "I'll be back in five."

She smiled and turned back to the egg basket filed with pots and pans and began food preparations.

I exited the old campsite and began walking into the small clearing. I began to look for wood fit for a fire but with my luck, the only things in my path were an array of thin tree branches, with the leaves still attached. I held onto my flashlight and kept walking, determined to finish my simple task. The air was so quiet, that even the slightest step on a stick or dried up leaf created a hollow echo throughout the trees.

It was in this moment when I began to remember all the horror stories I'd been told about deep, dark woods; the ones that you tell kids to keep them out of trouble. Even though I knew they were all just a bluff, there was something about the way these trees seemed to be staring at me, how the moon's light began to dim as I was engulfed further into shadow. In a few moments everything was dark, and the campsite was nowhere to be found. I was lost.

I flashed my light on the trees, and to my horror, faces began to form from the sap stains crusting up on the bark. Bats scattered and squeaked, angry that I'd disturbed their nests. In my hurry to back away I tripped over a log and fell to the ground. I slowly pushed myself up, brushing a beetle off my bony wrist. There was a nasty cut on my knee and I was pretty sure my ankle had been twisted in some way or another. I groaned aloud and fell back to my knees. The dirt in the ground was cold, and I began to shiver in the frigid air. The eerie silence that suddenly befell the forest did nothing to ease my nerves.

I readjusted onto my bottom and examined my knees. The scrape was bad, blood began trickling down my leg as I pinched the skin. The first aid kit was in my backpack, back at the campsite. I sighed and tried to stand but it was no use, with my ankle in so much pain, I couldn't find my balance. So, there I stayed, in the quiet, my heart pounding. When I glanced down at the dirt, the pounding nearly stopped altogether. I saw an animal track. No, not just any animal track, a large wolfish paw print.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the hairs on the back of my head began to stand up straight on end. A light trail of goosebumps followed, all along my arms and legs, and I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being watched by someone, or something. I tried to fight back tears as I remained completely still. I heard the slightest twig snap, and a stream of sweat ran down my forehead. I knew something was there. Within seconds, I felt hot breath against my neck. Too afraid to turn my head, I willed myself to wake up from this nightmare, safe in my bedroom. I wished that this was all just a bad dream and that I'd wake up in my own bed safe and sound from harm. But this wasn't a horror movie, or a nightmare. This was really happening.

A low, raspy growl emerged from behind me and I slowly turned, meeting the harsh stare of two yellow eyes, as large as dinner plates. Its face was thin and boney, hairless, with a long snout closely resembling both a wolf and a man at the same time. It had large, pointed ears nearing the top of its skull that twitched and turned. As it stood I saw that it was at least seven feet tall. It was snarling, flecks of foam bubbled along its lips. The sides of its face were pulsating and veins stood out on its temple as it took its long, raspy breaths.

It didn't give me time to think. It lunged, I saw its gleaming fangs for a split second before I clumsily rolled to the side. I scrambled to my feet and tried to stumble away despite the burning sensation in my foot. I ran, fear coursing through my veins. I could hear its footsteps growing louder and louder behind me, and I imagined its foaming jaws inches from my neck.

I saw a light straight ahead of me, and I thought for a brief moment I could make it. But what then? Right before I could find out, the thing launched over my head and landed on its feet right in front of me. I gasped as it sprang forward and sank its teeth into my shoulder. I could barely think as it began dragging me, further from the light and closer to the darkness. I tried to kick free, but the beast's grip was too powerful. I swung my fist up against its jaw, but it only tightened its grip. I'd be feeling that one tomorrow, if tomorrow ever came. All I could do was scream.

In my last moment of consciousness I perceived a moonlit clearing. With a heavy grunt the beast dropped me in the dirt, face up. I desperately drank up the starry sky above me, knowing I would never stargaze again. The beast paced circles around me, I thought it was trying to find the best place to start digging in. I'd never seen something so awful in my life. Its shape was wolf-like, something I'd only ever seen in horror movies at the midnight drive-in. It looked extremely malnourished and rigid, barely able to stand on its own two feet. But its eyes lit up with anger and craze. It seemed so beast-like, and so human, all at once. It couldn't be…but if not, then what?

It didn't give me time to decide. It pounced, and as I felt the weight of its paws I began to faint. As its teeth nipped at the shoulder wound the stars overhead became blurry, and the clearing began to spin. I lost all sense of direction, all sense of logic. Will they find me? Will there be anything left? The fear and terror that rushed through my veins was incomprehensible, I didn't even realize I was screaming. What had I been worrying about before? A bad grade in algebra? Christ. I stopped fighting to stay awake.

That's when the miracle happened.

A loud gunshot cut through the air like a knife. The beast yowled in pain, and I felt the weight of it grow even heavier as it collapsed. I didn't have the strength, so I lay there, hoping that help had come. I heard the loud footsteps of two massive, booted feet clomp towards me.

"Gotcha," a gruff voice said from above.

I slowly felt the weight be lifted from my chest as the monster was pulled away. A large looking lumberjack of sorts loomed over me, a gun in the crook of his arm. The second he made eye contact with me, he jumped backwards.

"Sweet Mary mother of God," he grunted. Under his large, curly beard, his bottom lip quivered in surprise.

"H-h-h-elp," I managed to squeak, my throat hoarse from screaming.

He shook his head and bent down to examine me. "Jesus! You're still alive under there?" His northern accent was thick. I nodded slowly, every movement hurt.

He bent down, concern written across his face "Come on, little lady." He hoisted me up gently over his shoulder.

I grunted in pain thanking God for Paul Bunyan. As hard as I fought to stay awake, my eyes grew heavy, and my head began to droop. I slowly slipped into unconsciousness as he carried me away, god knows where.

I sat there, tears streaming down my cheeks, and waited for Dr. Hughes to respond.

"My, my," he said, shaking his head. He had since taken off his jacket and shoes, now sitting cross legged in his chair.

I shrugged.

"Yes, well, what happened next?" He asked, eyes wide.

"I…" it was hard to remember much after that. "I woke up in a small hospital. I guess it was some E.M.S wilderness shit." I stuck my middle and pointer finger between the furrows of my eyebrows and tried to remember. "I was there for two and a half weeks. When I got home, my mom cut off my aunt. Pretended like she wasn't part of our family anymore. They fought for weeks. I only got back in touch with her a couple months ago, when I turned eighteen."

Dr. Hughes nodded sympathetically. "Ah, the family jewels. My mum and Grandma Pilly kept me from contact with my Auntie Marge for ten years because she 'stole' our diamond encrusted tea pot," he stated matter of factly. "Turns out it was buried in the back yard the whole time!" He got a good chuckle out of his own family's misfortune.

I sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment before continuing. "…anyways," I said slowly. "After a couple of weeks, I started changing. Literally."

"Changing?" He asked, perking up slowly.

"Oh you know the usual. Hairy armpits, bigger boobs, mood swings…"

"Come now Molly, all of those are examples of puberty, initiated by hormone signals to the brain and the gonads, maturity and capability of sexual reproduction. It's all textbook, completely—"

"…increased appetite, increased hair growth, black outs," I interrupted. "Hyper sense of taste, smell and hearing…"

He stared blankly at me. "Abnormal. Curious." He said, with a gaping mouth and eyes open wide.

I nodded, flattening my lips.

"Tell me, Molly. How did you cope with all this madness?"

"To tell you the truth, Doc, I don't know," I sighed. "I was just holding out the best I could. It's a miracle I even graduated high school. I did have everything under control, though," I said, aware that I was trying to reassure myself more so than Dr. Hughes.

He snorted and let out a small, awkward chuckle. What a nerd this goon was turning out to be.

"Oh, I'm sure you did," he said. He tried to recompose himself as soon as he saw the frustrated expression on my face.

This man was irritating me. Of course I had everything under control… at least I thought I did.

"I read your case file. Two sets of broken ribs and three fractured spines?" He laughed even harder and slapped his knee lightly. "That's the bee's knees!" He said excitedly, looking at me like I'd just pulled a bunny out of thin air.

"Yeah," I said, a lot colder in fact, than I meant for it to be.

"Tell me…" he said, straightening his suit and adjusting his tie. "…about your family."

I looked at him blankly. "What's there to tell?"

"How about we begin with your parents?" He crossed his legs and steepled his fingers.

"I don't really have the best relationship with them. I mean, I used to get along great with my dad when I was little…but…"

He nodded in encouragement and began to write down short snippets onto the piece of paper on his clipboard.

"…things change."

"And your mother?"

"Oh, god. Don't even get me started on her. All she ever tried to do was control my brother and me. Benjamin moved out a couple years ago after he finished college. Lucky bastard."

"It's safe for me to assume, that Benjamin is your older brother?" He asked.

"That's right. He's six years older than me. But we were always really close when I was little—and we still kinda are now. I mean, ever since my dad…" I broke off suddenly, recalling my dysfunctional family situation. I remained silent and began to twiddle my thumbs.

"Since you dad, what, Molly?" He said, a little bit quieter this time.

I began to speak, many times, but I couldn't find the right words.

"It's…complicated."

"Ah. An estranged father?"

I nodded and made an uncomfortable face.

"You could say that." Estranged. It was an ugly word that didn't sit right with me.

"Estranged means—some kind of—of closure."

"So, an ending left open? A hole? A gap in your narrative?"

"There was no explanation. Nothing at all." I shook my head, the same feeling of abandonment and confusion I felt the day it all began. "One day, he was just…gone."

Dr. Hughes sighed and nodded, with a look of grave understanding on his face.

"Were your parents having problems?"

"God no, nothing like that, he just went on a hiking trip with my aunt—"

"The very aunt that you embarked on this close to fatal expedition with?"

"…Doc it wasn't nearly a 'fatal expedition'," I air quoted with my fingers. "But, yes."

"And then, whoosh!" He motioned with both his hands, mimicking windshield wipers. "Gone without a trace." He thought for a moment. "Did you ever consider that it was a government conspiracy?"

"What? No! My dad wasn't into anything like that. That's crazy!"

"Maybe," he raised his eyebrow. "But I'll bet you didn't in your wildest dreams believe that a place like this exists," he smiled smugly.

"Well okay. I can honestly say that even in my wildest dreams, I never thought that I would become some bloodthirsty monster, kidnapped and held hostage in some kind of secret government prison run by a paranoid military cook."

"Is that what this is?" He said. "I was under the impression that this was a psych ward for the supernatural," he chuckled to himself.

"You're not funny," I grouched, crossing my arms.

"Molly," he said. "It appears that you have two choices here. Either I can help you out, or you can fight against me the whole way. If I were you, I'd go with option one."

"Look, Doc, I appreciate what you're trying to do here—I guess—but I don't need some psycho analysis. I need to find the cure for my…" I paused. "…condition." I said, slowly. "So, thanks, but no thanks. I'll just tell Monger that since I clearly won't be here for long, I don't really need therapy. So, I'll just be leaving," I said, beginning to stand up. I stumbled over a few toys, my foot had fallen asleep for sitting cross-legged for so long

"I'm afraid that won't do you too much good. Like I said, it's facility policy as of 2009 for all inhabitants to have a quarterly therapy session to help…" he looked closer at his clipboard and read aloud. "…'learn and utilize coping skills in new or stressful situations, further develop emotional understanding' and…" he held the board at a farther distance with a look of confusion on his face. "'Earn a greater understanding of the human race and how to interact and develop non-monster relationships'." He smiled and sat back crossing his legs.

I groaned and sat back down with a huff.

"I'd like to circle back around to your mother, if that's alright with you." He said, kindly.

"Fire away, Doc," I said in a monotone.

"Family seems to be a pretty touchy subject, you mother in particular. Why is that?"

"Why?" I laughed. The mere thought of my mother exhausted me beyond comprehension. "She's batshit crazy, she's controlling…and she doesn't care about me."

"Good thing you're a werewolf, eh?" James chuckled loudly and cleared his throat as soon as he caught wind of my unamused expression. "Right, er—go on."

"I mean, when I was like, —I don't know— twelve? She grounded me for a month because I flunked a states quiz in U.S. history class."

"Jiminy Cricket!" He said. "I never did memorize all forty-eight states. That one with all the horses up north always gave me trouble."

"That's great. I'm getting counseling from a man who can't identify 'Montana'." I shook my head and rubbed my temples.

"Who's she?" I frowned. I had a sneaking suspicion that James was in fact incapable of telling apart an apple from an orange.

"Jesus, forget it."

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat. "Perhaps we should move on to more pressing matters." I nodded slowly.

"Okay, like?" I asked.

"I have a splendid face chart! A wide variety of emotions to pick and choose from! Yes," he clapped his hands together and rummaged around in his steel grey cabinet, that clashed awfully with the brightly colored walls. "'What is your emotion, today'?" He read from the top. He held it out for me to see.

I raised my eyebrows at the simply drawn faces on the laminated chart.

"This is so first grade," I mumbled. Reluctantly, I pointed to a face on the leftmost column.

"Moody?" He asked.

"I guess."

"The department of MR gave me a set list of questions to ask as well, with the corresponding starter's packet." He pulled out a large stack of papers stapled together tightly.

"'MR'?" I remarked. He stopped looking through the pack and looked at me.

"Monster Resources of course! They were hired as a team to keep in check the rights and privileges of monsters being held in this facility. Not established until fairly recently…" he rubbed the back of his neck. "Let's begin shall we?" He asked hastily, holing the first page on his clipboard.

"Sure," I groaned inwardly.

"'I feel well cared for.' 'Strongly agree, agree, disagree or strongly disagree'?" He read aloud.

"Uh, agree?" I said shrugging. He made a marking on the paper.

"I am being administered the medication I require. 'Strongly agree, agree, disagree or strongly disagree'?"

"I don't have medication…" I said dryly.

"Strongly disagree, it is." He said checking off the box. I shook my head and sat back in my chair and made myself comfortable. This could take a while.