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Aching pain, like a giant hand gripping my side with three long fingers stretched across my torso. That's what it felt like when I woke up. I tried not to move, hoping that at any moment I would fall back asleep. The pain was not as bad as it had been the day before, but trying to sleep was still clearly pointless. Instead I decided to try and assess the damage by feeling the bandages that were still wrapped around my body. They were slightly gooey, but that could have just been from yesterday. I would have to go to the bathroom and take them off to really know how bad it was. I took a few deep breathes and lifted myself up, cringing and sucking in air through my teeth. There was a stain left on the sheets that I probably wouldn't bother trying to get out. The pain started to recede after a moment of standing, and after a few moments of vertigo I made my way to the bathroom.

The wrappings were a pain to get off, and eventually I just decided to use scissors. Now that my body had been given a chance to stretch out, the aches running through it had dulled into something manageable. So it was only with minor stinging that I peeled the cloth off the sticky mess that was once my side.

They were thinner than I thought they would be. One reached all the way over my heart, cutting diagonally across my chest. The other two stretched over my abdomen, one above and one below my navel, and tucked slightly around my right to my back. I hadn't really looked at them the day before when my mother was cleaning them up. Still, it seemed wrong somehow. They should be three inches wide and reaching down to my intestines and lungs. Realistically I knew that if that were the case I wouldn't be standing there judging the damage. But it was confusing trying to link the memory of the pain to the three barely one-inch-thick lines spreading out from my side.

My side.

That, at least, looked a bit more accurate. A mesh of flesh, fur, and half crusty blood more than half the size of my fist, the sight of it made my heart drop. I combed through the fur around the edges, checking for signs of infection, but everything seemed okay. Well, not okay, but not catastrophic. These were going to leave ugly scars though. And the fur might not grow back for a while after. I cleaned it and rewrapped it as best I could and went back to bed.

I looked up at my digital clock, (the ticking of normal ones bother me) and saw that it was 8:30a.m. It was Wednesday and I had class. If I left now I could be half an hour late for my first class. No one had woken me up, so I supposed no one expected me to go to school today. For a fleeting moment I considered getting ready for my second class, and then I pulled the covers I had neglected the night before over my head and let myself sink into half consciousness.

This is the part where someone climbs in next to me. An arm wraps around me and we are just looking at each other, me on my back and someone on their side. The hand that lightly traces around my scars is gentle, careful not to break me.

"Hey." Someone says.

"Hey"

"You really did a number on yourself this time, didn't you?" Someone says as the hand traces around the scars over my heart.

"_I _didn't do it." I protest.

"You sort of did."

_"It wasn't me, it was the leaf!" And someone just laughs softly, and then I do too. Then we're just lying there, looking at each other, torsos touching, arms touching, legs touching..._touching...

Touching. Right. Damn it.

So instead this is the part where I lie alone in my room for a few hours, drifting in and out of sleep. Saying I dreamt might be inaccurate since I was probably awake for part of it, but anyway, I started dreaming of a forest. My scars were still there, yet even so I was running as fast as I could. I'm going somewhere. I need to get there soon. Was it raining? Faster. Look at the leaves. Don't stop running. It might have been night time, but everything was so vibrant. Faster. After a few hours of this I my whole body felt like it had been hotwired and I knew I needed to get out of my room. So I got myself out of bed and into the kitchen where my mother and sister were seated around the table. They both looked up when they saw me. "Todd, how are you feeling?" asked my mother.

"Fine, tired."

"You look like hell," my sister teased.

"Still prettier than you."

"Get some food," said my mother. On the counter were a small chicken and a bowl of mashed potatoes, the sight of which made me realize I was starving. As I filled a plate and started eating I felt my energy draining away from me, and all I wanted to do was fill my stomach with food and crawl back into bed. I had lost blood, I was still sore, and I had already missed school. I began reasoning it would probably be better for my health if I just stayed in bed today. But once I finished my food I could feel that urgency building inside me again and I knew that I needed to get moving.

"Mom." I started.

"Hm?"

I hesitated for just a second, already anticipating a no. "I'm going to go to the park." In the form of a question, "Is that okay?"

"Todd," she sighed, "I really don't think that's a good idea."

"I'm going to meet up with Max though. He's going to catch me up on what I missed in math today. And if it gets late or I start to feel..." Funny? Strange? Bad? Weird? Those kind of always apply, "...like it's getting worse, I'll ask him to drive me home." That could be true enough. If something came up I could ask my friend Max to pick me up.

"But why give it a chance to get worse? I really think you should just stay in bed today." Her voice was decided, and she didn't seem like she was going to relent, and part of me really just wanted to give in and let it be. But that darn forest kept running around in my head and I really needed to get out of the house. So I chocked down my moral objections and made my case.

"I don't want to fall behind though. I need to make sure I do as well as I can in these classes." A simple enough statement, but heavily loaded.

Doing well in my classes meant getting accepted into Universities, and the better the grades the more desperately needed scholarship money I could get and, incidentally, the less my parents would have to pay. Again, we weren't really poor, but we did have a budget. I felt pretty confident I had all my bases covered- "But the next time you go to that class is Monday, isn't it? You can study with Max over the weekend." -except of course that we were playing chess, not baseball, and I had left almost all my pieces open to the queen.

But there was still a pawn left. "Pleeeaaase? I've been in my room all day and it's too uncomfortable to sleep right now." And thankfully, it was her pawn.

"...Alright," she said, giving in much easier than I thought she would. I had to swallow the lump of guilt that built up in my throat. "But you have to be back before it gets dark."

"Alright. Thanks Mom."

She smiled and sighed at me as I hurriedly washed my plate in the sink.

"You didn't wash it right," my sister called out to me as I walked into the bathroom.

"That's 'cause I'm physically impaired," I replied.

Once my hygiene was back up to standards I went back into my room to change my clothes. Just as I was about to leave my sister appeared in the doorway. "My turn to be the older sibling."

"But it was your turn last week."

"Well maybe if you'd grow up," She laughed. "I don't think you should go. You know she's going to be worrying about you."

Of course I knew that, but by that point I was getting used to my daily dosage of guilt. Sort of. "She'd worry about me even if I was sleeping in my bed like she wanted. And I'll be with Max, so it'll be fine." I started seriously wondering if I should actually call Max when my cellphone went off. "Speak of the devil." This, at least, seemed to make my sister believe me. "See? Got to go now or I'll miss the bus."

"Fine, don't listen to me," she said with a smile.

"Never do."

"And look what happens!" she called out as I left the house. Leah. I haven't mentioned her name yet, have I? It's Leah, like Princess Leia from star wars. She's also a Fox, and her fur is like my mother's, vibrant. Oh, and my dad is Grey Fox while I'm at it.

Anyway, I read Max's message. He was asking why I didn't show up for class today. Ignoring it I told him I was going to the park that day. Not quite asking but the hint was there if he wanted it. The bus was relatively empty but I noticed one of the passengers was the Otter (who actually existed, by the way). I made sure to sit away from him to avoid distraction. But I was sitting alone, and it was hard not to look expectantly at the front of the bus whenever it made a stop.

The ride ended, eventually, and I finally made it to the park. Great. Now I needed to figure out why I came here in the first place.

The air was fresh and the trees were a vibrant green, so at least it would be a nice day to wander around while I tried. A couple minutes into my directionless journey I got a reply from Max saying he was coming to pick me up, so I asked him why not just hang out in the park. Maybe he could figure out a good reason for me to be here.

I kept to the paths for a while before I decided to leave them and see if I could find a group of trees that looked like the ones from my dream. Most of the trees were too spaced out, and the ones that weren't didn't look right either. It was bad enough that I could barely bring to mind what my made up forest looked like, but there was something that seemed off about what I could remember. So instead I gave up and found a tree to climb up in while I waited for Max.

A forest. Had I ever dreamed of a forest like that before? I wasn't sure. Sometimes my dreams were really blurry in a way I am not sure how to describe. Maybe it was the park I was dreaming about, but my subconscious turned it into a forest. The park was pretty big, and parts of it did give off the impression of being completely wild. Wasn't that why I loved it so much in the first place, because it was like being in a different world?

But why was I running? Was it just because I liked running? And why did I feel the need to dissect this specific dream? I'm going somewhere. There was a certainty in my dream, but it was hollow. Or at least, now it was. I was trying to get somewhere, but as for what or where, whether good or bad or desperate or eager, I had no idea.

A strong breeze blew through the branches which brought down a rain of fuzzy stuff, some of which coated me and the branches around me. I don't think they came from the tree though. Most likely they came from a bush with fuzzy bits somewhere. I fiddled with them with my fingers for a while before I heard footsteps and looked down, expecting to see Max, but instead saw a runner.

A Wolf, grey fur, tall, nicely built, coming towards me. My initial response? Panic, naturally. But then I realized he was not coming towards me, he was just running on the path that traveled under my tree. And thankfully it was spring, so the branches were full of leaves and I was well concealed. So I watched him get closer and closer, feeling confident in my furry tree house hiding place.

And then for seemingly no reason at all, my leg shifted and scraped bits of bark and fuzzy stuff off my branch down to the ground. The Wolf immediately looked up to where the debris fell from and then it was all over. He saw me and our eyes locked. Even from here I could see that his irises where yellow, which was common enough in Wolves, but usually a darker golden yellow. His were bright and vibrant. Sunshine, I immediately thought. I'm not sure what exactly I expected him to do when he saw me. Admittedly one of my first thoughts was that he would charge the tree and knock me down, which didn't seem so irrational at the time. But it definitely wasn't to smile at me, or to lift his hand up and wave, nodding his head once in greeting as he ran.

This is the part where he stops under the tree, looking up at me with a heart breaking smile on his face. "Hey, were you spying on me?" he asks in mock disapproval.

"Why? Got a problem with that?" I reply.

"And if I do?"

"Then I definitely was," I say with a smile.

He smiles back up at me before starting to climb up. "Well then no, I guess I don't have a problem with that. Especially if you're the one spying on me." Then he reaches my branch and sits across from me, legs straddling either side of the branch. "Hi," he says

"Hey."

"What's your name?" he asks.

"Alex. What about you?"

"My name's ----"

But then he passed and left and that was the end of it. As he passed another strong wind blew, sending the fluffy stuff that had landed on and around me chasing after him. And just like that my little tree house of fuzzy plant matter was blown away.

So I climbed down, feeling that now that my temporary home had been discovered I should find another one. Another message from Max let me know he was almost on his way, meaning he wasn't already on it when he sent me that last message. I called him a liar and let him know how hurt I was.

As inviting as the some of the trees looked, none seemed to feel quite like temporary home. Then I got an idea from my Wolf friend. I was running in my not-dream, so maybe if I ran here I would wind up where I was running to, or at least jog my memory well enough to maybe remember why I was running.

Don't remember.

The thought came out of nowhere and for some reason knocked the wind out of me. For a moment I wasn't sure what I should do. It was like when I was little and suddenly an impulse would pop into my head; run, stop, climb, turn around, go in there, follow that. Sometimes I thought of it as a survival instinct, like it was leading me away from danger or toward something good. But it was more like an impulse that was very difficult to ignore.

But this one was different for one reason in particular; I didn't want to listen to it. I didn't want to let my not-dream go and fade from my memory. My legs were almost hurting from how bad they wanted to move. The impulse wanted me to stay, but this time I stuffed it away in the back of my mind.

I could jog, maybe, as a compromise. To be safe, I decided to go the opposite direction that my Wolf went. The Wolf went. Shut up. He was the catalyst for the conflict in my mind, so maybe it would better to avoid him.

But jogging turned out to be a horrible idea. Maybe I don't know how to jog right, or maybe I just felt it more, but it turned out a lot more up and downy than a run might have. While the gauze should have been a constant reminder, I seemed to have forgotten that underneath were not quite healed tears in my skin.

I tried to ignore the pain, and managed a go for a small ways before I remembered my promise to my mother and stopped. I checked and made sure the wrappings hadn't loosened, which they had, and then pulled them here and there to make sure they did not fall off. It wasn't a very effective attempt but it was the best I could do.

So I guess I was walking then.

I walked for ten minutes at least, not quite reaching the end of the park. There was no new message from Max and no impulse or supposed sign telling me where to go. But then I saw it.

It was a bush; or rather, a long wall of really tall bushes close together. Usually the big bushes were only on the edges of the lake. But these were slightly different, thicker. They appeared here and there throughout the park, but this was the biggest assemblage of them. When I was little I used to imagine they were the last remaining wall of a giant castle of sticks and leaves, and that the rest of it had been lost in a battle. This wall was the last remaining piece of the ruins. There was a slight diagonal gap near one end that I always thought might have been a secret entrance. But at that moment, with the sun shining through it with almost supernatural brilliance, it looked like the front door.

I felt my body tense up, my fur bristle in anticipation. And something else that I couldn't quite place deep in the pit of my stomach. First one leg, then the other, until I was walking, running, sprinting towards the angular opening. On the other side would be some sort of answer. The blurriness of the not-dream would clear and I would understand why my mind was so preoccupied with it. I went as fast as I could, ignoring the growing sensation on my side. The wind picked up violently just as I starting crashing through the bush, making the whole wall shake. I hadn't anticipated that the gap would have a bunch of sticks crisscrossing between the bushes. I felt them snapping against my body in the second and a half it took me to smash my way through. The last bit of the wind blew as I made it out of the bush and-

SMACK

-crumbled to the ground, bringing a victim of circumstance down with me. I didn't need to look to know that the gauze had come apart again or that I was going to have to wash the stains off my shirt. The wounds were bleeding again. I clutched my side and tried to get up while simultaneously muttering nonstop apologies.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to knock you down I wasn't looking and-"

"It's fine, I'm alright," said the Wolf, though with a slight groan as he stood. The Wolf. Oh. Oh crap. Maybe he didn't recognize me. "Hey, you're-" yeah, figured as much, but then "Oh crap are you okay?"

"Yeah." I looked down at my side. A visible stain had started to form, already bleeding through my jacket. "I just cut myself a little." There were a few bits of sticks still clinging to me, so maybe it seemed like a convincing enough excuse. In fact, it might have actually been true.

"Crap you're bleeding! Do you need to go to a hospital or something?" His voice was full of concern.

"No," I said a little too loudly. "It's fine. I just need to..." I looked around and saw one of the small brick bathrooms, "clean it." I started to walk over to the small building before he could protest, but on the first step I was already blinking back pain tears.

"Are you sure?" he asked as I went.

"Yeah," I called back to him. By the time I reached the building my vision was starting to swim. There was no door; instead an L shaped brick wall covered the entrance from the general public. There were small rectangular openings right below the ceiling, acting as both the lighting and ventilation systems. I walked into the dimly lit structure, trying not to focus on the smell. I unzipped my jacket and for a moment wondered if I should be worried about infection from the germs in the air. Just a quick look then, I decided. I lifted up my shirt, causing most of the loose wrapping to sag. I had to catch some of it to make sure it didn't fall onto the questionable floor (though some questions are better left unasked). Everything was wet, sticky, and every shade of red from pink to deep maroon. The world spun for a moment and it was only by some miracle that I didn't fall onto the bathroom floor. My breath was starting to become irregular, so I tried to take slow, deep breathes. Unfortunately this wasn't the best place to be if you were looking for refreshing air. I bundled the wrappings over my side and pulled my shirt back down, holding them in place.

I was about to head for the door-less entryway when a shadow signaled that someone was about to come in.

Hide.

I quickly stepped into one of the stalls, sliding the lock in place behind me. A pair of running shoes appeared under the door.

"Hey," the voice tentatively sounded through the door, "Fox, is that you?"

"Alex," I replied, "My name's Alex." Why, oh why, did he follow me in here? Guilt? He can't possibly think running into him did this to me. How the hell was I supposed to get out of here now?

"Alex?" He said it like question.

"Yeah. Why, what's wrong with Alex?" Not that I should actually be offended.

"Nothing." He paused, exhaling a bit. "Look, are you sure you're okay? You looked pretty bad." My fingers became acutely aware of how sticky they were, and I had to try really hard to not think about why. I really needed him to stop talking about it or I was going to throw up.

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing," I told him. He sighed against the door.

"It didn't look like 'nothing'. I have my car in the parking lot. Just let me take you to a doctor or something." I knew it wasn't a threat, but it definitely felt like one. "Come on, open the door. Please?"

"No, really it's fine."

"You were bleeding and limping, I don't think that counts as fine. At least let me take you home or something." I suddenly remembered that eventually my mother was going to find out about this. There was something to look forward to.

Between that and the pain from my injury all I could mutter was a lame "That's okay." Outside I heard the wind pick up again, but even with the openings around the top of the building the sound was muted.

"Come on Alex," he said, slightly tapping at the door, "just let me come in."

Not by the hair of my chinny chin chin. Something about the familiar way he used my name, albeit a fake one, made me nervous. Why wouldn't he just leave? "Occupied," I tell him. His shoes turned around and I thought he was finally about to leave. But instead of disappearing they just stayed there, facing the mirrors and sinks.

"How much are you bleeding?" he asked suddenly. The urgency in his voice surprised me.

"What?"

"There are bloodstains on the floor. How badly are you bleeding?" This time when the wind blew it penetrated every opening and I could even feel my hair stir a little.

"Really, it's fine. It's not as bad as it looked." Actually it was probably worse than it looked before. "Anyway, my friend is coming soon. I'll tell him to meet me here."

"No. Come on man. It's not good for you to be in here. The air stinks." He was probably right, but I was getting used to the smell by now. Still, the offer was starting to get really tempting.

"It's probably not a good idea for me stand around in public. You know, make a spectacle of myself."

"I have a jacket in my car you can wear. I won't make you go anywhere; we can just wait for your friend okay?" My vision was starting to swim. I needed to sit down and breathe fresh air. And though I may have been down playing it, my wounds hurt a lot. For an average person, I liked to think I had a pretty good pain threshold. I was accustomed to breaks and scrapes and cuts and stuff. But these were definitely pushing my limits.

"Alex?" he pleaded again. So despite really not wanting to let him see how big the stain was getting, I did what I realized was probably the only real smart thing to do. I opened the door for the Wolf.

Again the first thing I noticed about him were his yellow irises. Moonlight may have been a more poetic comparison with him being a Wolf and all, but even in the poor lighting they just made me think of sunshine.

This is the part where he looks at my ruined form and realizes how badly I've been hurt. But even so he sees something in me, and that keeps him from unburdening himself by leaving me like most others would. So he stays, because some part of him does not want this to be the last time we see each other. He steps towards me and reaches his arms out to me. Despite my protests once I realized what he was doing, he lifts me out of the stall and cradles me in his arms.

"I'll try to walk smoothly okay?" he tells me.

"The floor is pretty uneven here. Sure you can manage?" I ask, trying to keep my cool.

"You tell me, after all you were the one spying on me while I was running." My face lights up like a red Christmas light. "How's that for smooth?" he laughs. In response I groan and my bury my head in his shoulder.

This is the part where the second thing I noticed about him was the way he cringed away at the sight of me. Not that I could blame him. At this point even I had to admit that I had almost definitely lost too much blood in the past forty-eight hours, and a large quantity was seeping through my clothes. To his credit though, after giving me a wide breadth to get out of the bathroom, he tried to put an arm around me for support when he saw me limping. And to my discredit, I quickly pushed him away the moment his arm touched me.

"Sorry! I didn't me-"

"No it's fine." I tell him. "Sorry, I just..."

"Sorry, I didn't think it would hurt that bad."

"Yeah. No, it's fine." Technically I wasn't lying. If he came to the conclusion that I was talking about my cuts, that was his mistake. He walked close anyway though, sometimes maneuvering himself to hide as much of the stains as possible from people we passed. For the most part we walked in silence. I spent most of the walk thinking about my new bosom buddy.

Fantasies aside, I didn't have any real delusions about him liking me. The reason he was going out of his way to help was because he was a decent person. He saw me bleeding excessively and felt that he should offer me a hand. Which was good, because I guess I needed it. I wasn't exactly being the most appreciative person in the world though, and yet he wasn't showing any signs of minding at all. It probably shouldn't really have mattered, but it unsettled me for some reason. Maybe it was just my recent exposure to jerks that made me forget some people were actually nice. After all, there were several people that night that had wanted to help right?

By the time we reached the parking lot I was definitely nauseous, but at least I had gotten used to the pain. And I wasn't sure, but I think most of the bleeding had stopped.

"Wait here," he said, indicating a bench. "I'll get my jacket." But before he had the chance I saw a shiny red car drive into the parking lot.

"Actually, my friend just got here."

"Oh."

Max parked a little ways off of us, which was bad because that meant I would have to walk to his car.

Max was a Panther, basically the same height as me, and of course, muscular. Apparently, I was the only person in this rotten city who didn't start their day by figuring out how to exercise the most muscles while getting dressed in the morning. But no, I guess that wasn't a fair thing to say. The city is actually quite lovely sometimes.

As he approached Max's face went from confusion to shock and finally, since we've known each other a very long time, to exasperation. He opened his mouth to speak, but realizing what he might say I quickly spoke first.

"I'm Alex, what else did you expect?"

Ugh.

It sounded clunky and forced and even without looking at the Wolf I could tell all three of us were doing everything we could not to cringe. Hell, even the cars looked like they were using all their nonexistent willpower to keep their faces straight. But it was the fastest way I could think of to let Max know not to use my name.

"Just a brush with death, usually. How bad is it?" He asked.

"Pretty bad," said the Wolf, apparently not trusting me to answer for myself. "He should probably see a doctor, at least.

"Thanks," I told him swiftly. "You know, for your help." If a part of me was upset with how rude I was being, it could leave a comment in the suggestion box: his input was not what I needed right now.

"Oh. Yeah sure," he said, noticeably surprised by my abruptness. "No problem."

"Nice meeting you," I say, hoping to take some of the edge off of basically telling him to leave. I took half a step away from him.

This is the part where he lingers for a moment, not ready to leave just yet. "Yeah," he says. "It was nice meeting you too." Neither of us moves away though, instead we just keep taking turns staring at each other and our own shoes. "Sure you don't want to barrow my jacket?" he asks after a moment. "Don't want to go making a scene everywhere you go, you know?"

"No, it's alright. I don't want to steal it from you ," I tell him

"It's fine," he says, a smile playing on his lips. "That way you'll have a reason to see me again."

This is the part where he answers with a quick "yeah" and leaves, just as abrupt as I was. Well, I guess I deserved that. I watched him go, longer than I wanted. A breeze blew, light but sturdy, pushing on my cheek. So I looked away from the Wolf and towards the Panther. The look on his face let me know I was between a rock and a hard place.

"Jeez Todd, what the hell happened?"

"Can we talk in the car? I need to sit down." Like the Wolf, Max kept close, but he made no attempt to touch me. When we got to his car he opened the door for me. I sat halfway in, and then turned away from the interior of the car to throw up on the pavement. I realized that was the first time I actually threw up from this whole mess. Maybe I was doing better than I thought.

"Okay, I'm taking you to the hospital." He started up the car, and all I could do was groan in protest. "If you don't like the hospital, then don't get all messed up like that."

"I didn't do it on purpose," I replied meekly.

"No, you never do. But it sure happens more often than accidents should. So what happened?" So I told him about the leaf that left me for dead in a dark alley and my literal run in with the Wolf "A white leaf? Really? Wow, that definitely makes perfect sense."

"It did at the time."

"Because no one has ever heard of a white leaf before. Maybe it's a new breed of plant?" The amount of sarcasm in his voice was completely uncalled for, in my opinion.

"I get it. Stupid thing to do. Just take me home, okay?" He wouldn't, but asking made me feel better anyway.

"You're going to see a doctor. I already texted your sister to let your mom know. She'll meet us there." Is that who he was texting when I was telling him what happened? That was just great. "So you're just going to have to suck it up," he said, ignoring the sounds of complaint I was making. "Okay, Alex?"

"Shut up," I whined.

"'I'm Alex, what else do you expect?'" he laughed, talking in an obnoxiously preppy voice. "What the hell was that man? 'Oh, you know me, just Alex being Alex. Isn't this just like me?'"

"Shut up!" I say, half laughing and half groaning. "I don't sound like that."

"I mean, what was the point of lying about your name to that guy if you were going to do that."

"Just to make sure you didn't say it."

"Why couldn't he here your name? Something wrong with him?" he asked. "Or, maybe something right?"

"N-no!" I answered, unsure why I hesitated. "Don't be creepy. It just would have been awkward if he found out I gave him a fake name."

"You know, you could just use your actual name."

"Maybe if it didn't try to choke me every time I said it."

"Weirdo," laughed Max.

And he was right. For whatever reason, my name always got stuck in my throat whenever I tried to say it. Not that I couldn't say it, but it required significantly more effort than I think saying one's own name should. Eventually that alternative I found was using a fake name when introducing myself to people who didn't already know my name. Add it to the list of things that don't make sense about me.

Outside the vehicle I watched as leave4s ran rampant through the air. "Jeez it's windy today," said Max after a paper bag attacked the windshield of the car.

"That's cause the universe doesn't want me to see the doctor either," I told him.

"Well it should have tried harder to stop us. Here we are." He pulled into the parking lot and parked the car. "You ready?"

In answer, I opened the door and threw up again.

I was wrong when I thought that my wounds had stopped bleeding. My clothes had just been soaking up a lot of the blood so it was hard to notice.

I needed stitches. That's what the doctor's told me. Anesthetics got me through the prepping, but they realized soon enough that they weren't going to get the stitches in as long as I was aware of what was happening.

Our family doctor wasn't in, so my mother tried to explain to them my "special" condition. But I guess she downplayed it, the way Mothers do sometimes, because the doctors didn't think that it would be an issue. Even after several tries, it took me almost stabbing a doctor in the face with the needle when I pushed her hand away for them to understand what they needed to do.

They had to put me sleep.

I wasn't always this problematic, but hospitals made me nervous, and combined that with the hypersensitivity from the fur on fur contact usually required at hospitals, I was a very difficult patient. So they laid me down on a table and put the mask over my muzzle. By then I was already trembling from what had already been done, and as I felt my body go limp I remembered what they were going to do and tried to move off the table. The doctor's gently held my limbs down and each finger felt like an ember of fire through the anesthetic.

When I felt the world slipping away I wasn't sure if I was passing out from the gas or my own hysteria. I really hated hospitals. In a last effort to either avoid or embrace my madness, I don't remember which, I imagined being one of the birds I had seen outside, flying up into the yellow sunshine.