Tralla Posted March 1, 2008 Report Posted March 1, 2008 Author's note: Short and sweet. Keep in mind I haven't really written anything in four years and change. Updates may be slow to come. Like most of my stuff, it will probably have its darker elements. ----- “That’s it, little one. Go to sleep now.” Fingers loosened their implacable hold and stroked the hair on the old patient’s head gently. As the blue fluid finished injecting and the eyes glazed over, Jacqueline Ross gave a sigh and straightened. Resting the small dog’s wizened head on the counter, she gave the curly coat a final pat and started cleaning the various medical instruments strewn around her. Dr. Amanda Hansen scribbled some final notes in the pet’s file, folded the sheet over, and set the file aside. She eyed her technician thoughtfully, and then grimaced. “You always let the geriatrics get to you, Jack,” she admonished softly. “You’re going to have to adapt if you want to stay in the field.” “I know,” Jack replied, her gaze fixed on the instrument she was scrubbing vigorously. Clotted blood stuck to stainless steel like superglue. “I’m getting tougher, really, but some of the old farts just… It’s better than leaving them to suffer, but it’s hard being the one to hold them for that injection. I’ll get over it.” Amanda stared at her a moment longer, then nodded and turned away. Jack closed her eyes and leaned against the sink. Her hands shook. Sweat beaded her brow. She couldn’t tell anyone the real reason for her trouble with the old patients. The old, weakened, helpless patients, that triggered every predatory instinct surfacing so inconveniently in her brain. She couldn’t tell a soul that while the blue killing fluid was flooding their veins, she could hear their little hearts slowing, stuttering, and stopping. The meat was still hot and fresh. It would taste so good going down right away, before it cooled and took on the distinctive musty odour of newly dead flesh. She wouldn’t even have to feel the guilt of the kill. Her accelerated metabolism would handle the euthanyl with little more than a slight buzz. She was alone at the moment. Slipping into one of the empty wards with her little bundle would be so easy. She could- Jack jerked away from the sink with a little gasp. Dropping the clean tool on the drying tray, her eyes searched out the clock over her left shoulder. Relief flooded her when she reverted back to her human brain enough to interpret the minute and hour hands. Time to go. Thank god. Studiously avoiding the body still lying on the counter, Jack rushed down to the staff room, grabbed her purse, and made as fast of a getaway as she could. The drive home passed in a blur. She didn’t remember entering her house, or stripping out of her clothes on her way through. Her heightened senses were with her entirely, however, when she stood completely bare in her back yard, acres of grassy farmland stretching around her. Jack glared up at the weak quarter moon waiting just above the horizon, its glow yellowed and sickly from the smog hovering over the nearby city. Still it pulled at her, foreign but irresistible. Her skin itched and ached, yearning to answer the call. Realization of everything she’d lost, and everything she had yet to lose, washed over Jack in a tidal wave of black despair. A cry burst from her, escalating into a broken wail. When that rose inevitably into an inhuman howl, she wept. It wasn’t easy being a newly turned werewolf.
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