The hospital room's chemical tang made Jessica's heightened senses rebel, each breath a reminder of how far she was from her forest refuge. She shifted in the unyielding plastic chair beside Mark's bed, her muscles protesting with each movement, phantom memories of bone and sinew stretching beyond human limits. The moon had retreated below the horizon hours ago, allowing her to shed her other form, but her body hadn't forgotten the transformation—wouldn't let her forget.

  Mark lay still except for the shallow rise and fall of his chest. Nothing remained of the crimson monstrosity—just a pale, ordinary teenage boy drowning in a sea of white hospital linens. Tubes snaked from the crooks of his arms, monitors painting jagged neon landscapes beside him. Jessica struggled to connect this fragile boy with the creature that had torn through their town's main street mere hours ago.

  "How long has he been out?" Kevin's voice cut through the electronic symphony of beeps. He hovered in the doorway, coffee cups clutched like talismans.

  Jessica glanced at the clock, numbers blurring. "Almost twelve hours now."

  Kevin crossed the room and pressed a cup into her hands. Heat radiated through the cardboard, thawing her fingertips but failing to reach the frost that had crystallized around her heart.

  "Any word from your dad?" Kevin sank into the chair beside her, the vinyl squeaking in protest.

  Jessica's gaze fixed on the amber liquid in her cup. "Still handling the aftermath. Half the town saw me transform. Can't exactly stuff that particular nightmare back into its cage."

  "You saved lives."

  "I exposed myself." The words scraped her throat raw. "Everything I've spent years building—the normal life, the human identity—it's gone. Shredded like my dress during the change."

  Kevin's fingers threaded through hers, callused and steady. "Maybe normal isn't all it's cracked up to be."

  A guttural sound from the bed silenced them. Mark's eyelids fluttered, then lifted. Jessica's muscles coiled, ready to spring if yellow irises signaled the monster's return. But his eyes were human—dazed, haunted, but human.

  "What..." Mark's voice scraped like gravel over broken glass. "What happened?"

  Jessica leaned forward, elbows digging into her knees. "How much can you piece together?"

  Mark's eyes darted wildly, like trapped birds seeking escape. His fingers clutched at the sheets until his knuckles blanched bone-white. "Fragments. Prom. Dancing. Then rage, so much rage. Did I—" His voice cracked. "Tell me I didn't kill anyone."

  "Everyone survived," Jessica said, choosing her words with surgical precision. "Some will need time to heal, but they'll recover."

  Mark's face crumpled, relief collapsing into self-loathing. He turned toward the wall, shoulders hunching inward. "I should be locked up. Or worse."

  "The serum wasn't entirely—" Kevin began.

  "Don't." The word sliced through the air. "I stole it from my father's lab, knowing it was unstable. I wanted power. Wanted to be something more than just... me. The consequences didn't matter."

  The door hinges whined, and Tiffany appeared in the threshold. Mascara tracks mapped rivers down her cheeks, prom dress rumpled beyond recognition, hair yanked back in a hasty ponytail. She froze at the sight of Mark conscious.

  Jessica backed toward the door, avoiding eye contact. "I should check on..." She let the excuse hang unfinished in the air.

  In the sterile corridor, she pressed her back against the wall, her enhanced hearing capturing every whispered word from within.

  "I'm so sorry," Mark's voice splintered. "I never meant to—God, Tiff, I just wanted to be worthy of you."

  "Worthy?" Tiffany's voice climbed sharply. "You think turning yourself into... into that thing would make you worthy? You nearly killed people!"

  "I know. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make amends, if that's even possible. I just need you to understand that creature wasn't me."

  "But it was, in a way," Tiffany said, her voice softening to a painful tenderness. "It was everything inside you—your insecurities, your jealousy, your ambition—amplified until it broke the surface. The serum didn't create those feelings, Mark."

  Silence stretched between them, taut as a wire. Jessica's cheeks burned, suddenly conscious of her intrusion.

  "Can you ever forgive me?" Mark's question hung fragile in the air.

  Jessica pushed away from the wall before she could hear Tiffany's answer, the sound of muffled sobs trailing after her like ghosts.

  Kevin emerged moments later, cocking his head toward the exit. "Let's give them space."

  They walked the corridor together, footfalls echoing off linoleum like distant gunshots.

  "He's got mountains to climb," Kevin observed.

  "Don't we all." Jessica's bitter laugh held no humor.

  Conversation died in ripples as they entered the cafeteria, replaced by the scrape of chairs and the sudden fascination everyone had with their lime green Jell-O cups. Jessica felt each stare like a needle piercing skin—curiosity dissecting her, fear recoiling from her, hostility burning her.

  "They'll find something new to gossip about by next week," Kevin muttered unconvincingly.

  "Hard to top 'cheerleader transforms into mythological beast,'" Jessica grabbed a tray, studying the unappetizing food choices rather than meeting the eyes that weighed and measured her.

  "Room for another pariah at this table?" Salina approached beside them, yesterday's immaculate gothic ensemble replaced by clothes that suggested a night spent in a waiting room chair.

  Jessica's chest tightened as Salina slid into place beside them—no questions, no hesitation, just loyalty that transcended her new monstrous reality. "Always."

  They claimed a table in the corner, strategic barriers against prying eyes. Jessica pushed food around her plate, appetite buried beneath the rubble of what was once her life.

  "Dad texted," she broke the silence, phone heavy in her pocket. "Wants me home after his shift. Probably to tell me which state line to cross by sundown."

  Kevin snorted, choking on his juice. "Yeah, right. Sheriff Tumblerlee might be ten kinds of intimidating, but he'd walk through fire for you."

  "Being a werewolf isn't exactly the same as a tattoo or blue hair," Jessica countered. "His badge means protecting the town from threats."

  "And you just neutralized the biggest threat this town has seen since the mill fire of '97," Salina pointed out, nabbing a fry from Kevin's plate. "That has to count for something in the cosmic balance sheet."

  Jessica stared at the congealing mass on her tray. "You saw their expressions when my bones cracked and reformed. My own squad looked at me like I'd devour them for a halftime snack."

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  "To be fair, you do get cranky when your blood sugar drops," Kevin quipped, then winced at Jessica's glare. "Too soon. Got it."

  Salina's cool fingers covered Jessica's hand, black nail polish chipped and flaking. "Whatever storm's coming, you're not facing it alone."

  Jessica's vision blurred. "This isn't your battle. I won't drag you into the crossfire."

  "Too late," Kevin grinned, teeth flashing white against his stubbled jaw. "We've already got season passes to the werewolf drama. Might as well stick around for the finale."

  A commotion near the entrance drew their attention. Amber, Camella, and Mia hovered at the threshold, scanning the cafeteria with the uncertainty of gazelles at a watering hole. When Amber spotted Jessica, she nudged the others, lips moving in whispers too distant for even Jessica's enhanced hearing to capture.

  "Perfect," Jessica muttered. "The wolf pack arrives."

  "Points for ironic word choice," Salina remarked, eyebrow arched.

  The cheerleaders approached, their runway confidence reduced to halting steps. Jessica straightened her spine, chin lifting in preemptive defense.

  "Hey," Amber greeted, fingers strangling her purse strap.

  Jessica nodded tightly. "Hey."

  Silence stretched between them, taut and uncomfortable.

  "So..." Camella broke first, words tumbling out. "You're actually a werewolf? Not special effects or some elaborate prank?"

  "One hundred percent authentic monster," Jessica confirmed, the words edged with steel.

  "That's..." Mia chewed her lip, searching for appropriate terminology. "Actually kinda badass."

  Jessica blinked, caught off-balance. "What?"

  Amber shifted her weight, designer boots squeaking on the linoleum. "We saw what you did. How you fought that... whatever Mark became. You saved people."

  "Including us," Camella added, tapping acrylic nails against her arm. "That thing was making a beeline for Tiffany when you intercepted it."

  Jessica hadn't registered the detail in the chaos, instinct driving her more than conscious thought.

  "Anyone would have done the same," she mumbled, uncomfortable with their scrutiny.

  "Except nobody else could," Mia pointed out. "Nobody else had your... abilities."

  "We wanted to say thanks," Amber said, words precise as if rehearsed. "And... we're sorry. For how we reacted initially."

  Jessica studied their faces for mockery or artifice, finding only genuine discomfort and something that might, impossibly, be respect. The tension across her shoulders eased fractionally. "It's fine. Finding out your co-captain grows fur and fangs on occasion isn't exactly in the standard cheer manual."

  Amber's lips quirked upward. "Does this mean we need to redesign the uniforms for tail accommodation?"

  The absurdity pierced Jessica's armor, startling a laugh from her lungs. "I think we can work around that particular design challenge."

  "Seriously, though," Camella leaned closer, voice dropping. "What you did was incredible. Terrifying, but incredible."

  "We've got your back," Mia declared with unexpected fierceness. "Whatever happens next."

  Jessica's throat contracted, vision swam. "Thanks. That... means more than you know."

  The cheerleaders departed with promises to check in later, leaving Jessica stunned by the unexpected alliance.

  "See?" Kevin bumped her shoulder with his. "Not everyone's running for silver bullets just yet."

  "Don't push your luck," Jessica warned, but the words lacked teeth.

  *****

  The walk home stretched Jessica's nerves to breaking. Each passing car slowed, windows rolling down for a better look. Pedestrians veered into streets to avoid her path. A mother scooped up her toddler mid-stride when Jessica rounded the corner.

  By the time she reached her modest two-story, earlier optimism had withered like flowers in frost. Her father's patrol car sat in the driveway, a silent harbinger of judgment to come. She paused at the door, hand trembling above the knob, suddenly certain that crossing this threshold would irrevocably divide her life into before and after.

  "Planning to become a lawn ornament, or are you coming inside?" Her father's voice carried through the door.

  Jessica inhaled deeply and pushed forward. Sheriff Daniel Tumblerlee occupied his usual chair at the kitchen table, still uniformed, coffee mug cradled between weathered hands. Exhaustion had carved new valleys across his face, shadows pooling beneath eyes that had witnessed too much in twenty-four hours.

  "Dad—" Jessica's carefully prepared speech evaporated.

  "Sit," he said, the word neither harsh nor welcoming.

  Jessica slid into the chair opposite him, hands twisting in her lap. The wall clock's mechanical heartbeat counted seconds that stretched like years.

  "How long?" he finally asked, question precise as a scalpel.

  "Since the woods. A couple of years when I took the short cut."

  Recognition flickered in his eyes. "You said it was an animal."

  "It was. Just not the species I claimed."

  Sheriff Daniel dragged calloused fingers down his face, stubble rasping against skin. "And all those nights sneaking out? The unexplained absences?"

  Jessica's gaze dropped to the table's scratched surface. "Yes. I had to get away from people when the change came."

  "And have you? Learned to control it?"

  "Mostly. Salina created a tincture that helps. I only transform at night, and the full moon makes the pull..." Words failed to encapsulate the primal surge that overtook her.

  Her father's eyes dissected her, lawman's gaze evaluating threat levels, measuring potential danger. Jessica held herself perfectly still, prey instinct freezing her before predator judgment.

  "You know," he said finally, fingers tracing a coffee ring on the table, "when your mother was pregnant with you, doctors warned us there might be... complications. That you might not develop typically." A ghost of a smile touched his mouth. "She used to joke you kicked so hard it felt like you had claws."

  Jessica stared at him, pulse quickening. "Are you saying I was born this way?"

  "No, no." He waved the notion away. "Just that I always knew you were extraordinary. Different. Even before..." He gestured vaguely toward her altered biology.

  "So you're not..." Jessica faltered, terrified to speak her fears into existence. "Disgusted? Frightened? Ready to drive me beyond town limits with torches and silver bullets?"

  Sheriff Daniel's laugh emerged rusty but genuine. "Jessica Tumblerlee, you are my daughter. Fur, fangs, and whatever else comes with the package."

  Something fractured inside her chest. Tears spilled unchecked, months of isolation and terror breaking through crumbling defenses. "I was so scared you'd hate me. That I'd become a stranger to you."

  Her father pushed back from the table, crossing the distance to pull her against his chest. Her tears darkened the tan fabric of his uniform. "Never," he whispered fiercely into her hair. "Not in this lifetime or any other."

  For long minutes, they remained locked together, Jessica's sobs gradually subsiding into uneven breaths.

  "We'll figure this out," he promised when she finally pulled away. "The town will adjust. Might need time, but they'll come around."

  Jessica wiped salt tracks from her cheeks with her sleeve. "And if they don't?"

  "Then they answer to me." The quiet certainty in his voice left no space for doubt.

  A memory surfaced suddenly. "Dad... Remember sophomore year? When I said a bear attacked the school during detention?"

  His expression shifted subtly, something unreadable flickering across his features. "Yes."

  "It wasn't a bear. It was—"

  "Whatever happened," he interrupted gently, "it's in the past. Right now, let's focus on navigating this current situation."

  Jessica recognized deflection but lacked the energy to pursue it. "So what happens now?"

  "Now?" Sheriff Daniel glanced toward the window where darkness gathered. "Now I think we both need rest. Tomorrow brings its own battles."

  *****

  Dawn painted Moon Valley in watercolor hues, pinks and golds bleeding across the horizon. Jessica perched on the porch railing, watching sunlight creep over mountain ridges that cupped their town like protective hands. The air carried new information to her senses—deer moving in the distant treeline, approaching rain still hours away, layers of scent she was only beginning to decode.

  Her phone vibrated with messages from Kevin and Salina, checking in, making plans. The squad's group chat exploded with supportive messages interwoven with increasingly ridiculous questions about her "wolf powers." Even Mark had sent a simple message: "Thank you. For stopping me."

  The screen door creaked behind her. Her father emerged in civilian clothes, a steaming mug in each hand. He passed one to Jessica before claiming the spot beside her, the wood groaning beneath their combined weight.

  "Beautiful morning," he observed, voice still rough with sleep.

  Jessica inhaled the steam rising from her cup, savoring the brief moment of peace. "Do you think anything will ever feel normal again?"

  Sheriff Daniel considered the question, eyes tracking a solitary bird's flight path. "No. But perhaps normal was overrated to begin with."

  Jessica's lips curved slightly, tasting truth in his words. "A new normal, then."

  "A better one, I hope." Steam curled from his mug like ghostly fingers. "One where you aren't living fractured."

  The concept sent conflicting currents through her—terror and exhilaration intertwined like DNA strands. To exist openly, authentically—it seemed an impossible luxury mere days ago.

  "The path won't be smooth," she cautioned.

  "Nothing worthwhile ever is."

  They sat in companionable silence, watching their town stir to consciousness—shopkeepers raising metal shutters, early joggers pounding pavement, ordinary lives resuming their rhythm.

  "Bet you never imagined raising a teenage werewolf," Jessica said, a thread of her old humor surfacing.

  Her father's laugh resonated deep in his chest. "After dealing with your room during middle school? The werewolf revelation is honestly less frightening."

  Jessica's laugh escaped, unburdened, carrying over rooftops. Her father's arm settled across her shoulders, anchoring her to earth when she might otherwise drift apart.

  In the distance, the full moon faded against a brightening sky, a pale ghost retreating until its next reign. Jessica watched it vanish, no longer bound by fear of its return. Moon Valley—and she herself—stood forever altered. But sitting there in dawn's gentle light, Jessica felt certainty crystallize in her marrow that whatever monsters prowled beyond this moment, she wouldn't face them alone.

  The moon would rise again. And so would things that hunted in darkness.