The walls of the small office were painted in a depressing cream color that absorbed whatever little light was available, plunging the room into a claustrophobic gloom. I sank into the hard metal chair across from Dr. Richardson’s desk, attempting to find a somewhat comfortable position on the unpadded seat. My claws scratched against the metal, producing a screech that set my hair on end.

I hated this place. I hated being caged in, feeling watched and judged. Did my intimidating appearance justify such treatment? My sharp fangs, my piercing yellow eyes, my speckled gray fur... None of that made me a monster. But the stupid system saw me that way.

I glanced at the round clock hanging over the door. There were still 15 minutes left before this mandatory torture they subjected me to each week was over. Fifteen minutes that would feel like an eternity, trapped in this office that smelled of old wood and paper, having to endure the tedious questions and Dr. Richardson’s falsely reassuring smile.

I could almost feel the ticking of the clock hammering in my brain, reminding me how slowly time passed in this place. The hands seemed to move deliberately slow, mocking my desperation.

The gazelle psychiatrist cleared his throat loudly, capturing my attention. I looked up and studied him closely. His fur was caramel-colored, with brown spots sprinkled here and there. His large black eyes examined me with curiosity from behind his thick-framed glasses. His antlers stood proudly, framing his angular face.

“So, how did you feel this week?” he asked, just like he had in each of our previous sessions.

He always asked the same boring and predictable question, feigning interest but actually looking for any sign of violent behavior or instability on my part. He wanted me to break and admit to having murderous instincts so that he could finally lock me up.

“The same as last week, and the week before that... I’m perfectly fine,” I responded through clenched teeth, examining my claws in an attempt to distract myself. Doctors seemed fascinated by them.

Dr. Richardson nodded slowly, as if digesting my answer. He took off his glasses and cleaned them with a handkerchief, then put them back on his pointed snout.

“I see. But you know I need you to be more specific. Did you have any unusual incidents? Did you feel excessive anger or frustration towards someone in particular?”

I rolled my eyes in irritation. He already knew the answer. I was a natural predator, sure, but I wasn’t unhinged. Yet, the system loved to treat me like an out-of-control animal, applying these “preventive” measures.

“No. It was a perfectly normal and boring week, like all the others. I just want this damn session to end so I can go home,” I growled, feeling the familiar burning sensation in the pit of my stomach that flared up when I got angry.

The doctor shifted in his seat, looking for a better angle to examine me from. He reminded me of a hunter stealthily stalking his prey.

“There’s no need to get aggressive. I’m here to help you, not to judge you,” he said with a falsely conciliatory tone.

I clenched my fists, my claws digging into my palms. I felt the metal chair creak under the force of my grip. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He was just provoking me. He wanted to get me out of my shell to prove his theory that I was an uncontrollable savage. But I wasn’t going to give him that satisfaction.

Minutes passed in silence. Dr. Richardson scribbled something in his notebook while I focused all my attention on the sounds from outside that seeped in through the slightly open window. The traffic... anything was better than the torment of being here.

Finally, the doctor put down his notebook and interlaced his long fingers, leaning back against the leather backrest of his chair.

“Tell me about your schoolmates. How do you get along with them?” he asked.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A tricky subject. Many of my peers feared and avoided me. Only a few had dared to get close and really know me. But I wasn’t going to admit that here.

“I get along well. I have a few close friends,” I responded curtly.

“I see... Have you had conflicts with anyone?”

“No.”

“No scuffles, no fights...”

“No,” I insisted, feeling the frustration boiling inside me again.

Why did he keep pushing this issue?

The doctor took his time, adjusting his glasses and smoothing out the non-existent wrinkles on his impeccably white coat. Then he looked me straight in the eyes.

“We can’t make progress if you’re not completely honest with me. Everything you share here is strictly confidential, you know that.”

His brown eyes scrutinized me, as if trying to unravel my deepest secrets. I shifted uncomfortably on the hard metal chair.

He was right, of course. But admitting the truth felt like I was giving in.

“Fine, if you must know... I don’t get along with the larger predators. They see me as... as an aberration,” The bitter words choked in my throat.

It was true. Since I can remember, those of my own kind have shunned me. I guess it’s because of my hybrid features: half hyena, half gray wolf. A strange mix, even in a world where most of us are crossbreeds. But in my case, the combination of scavenger predator with hunter predator seems especially repulsive to some.

The doctor nodded slowly, jotting something in his notebook.

“I see. That must be very difficult for you. Do you think their rejection has to do with your origins? You are an unusual hybrid, after all,” he commented, with a tone of false compassion.

My claws dug into the metal arms of the chair, screeching. So, in the end, he also saw me as a freak. A rare specimen to be studied.

“I suppose so,” I admitted grudgingly. “But that doesn’t change anything. I just want to be accepted.”

I hated showing vulnerability, but frustration overcame me and the words slipped out before I could stop them.

The doctor nodded again, as if my revelation confirmed his suspicions. He made more notes in his notebook, eager to record my confessions.

“Social acceptance is very important at your age. Perhaps we could work on some techniques to help you integrate better...” he suggested.

I couldn’t bear it any longer. I interrupted him abruptly, feeling bile rise in my throat.

“Integrate? Am I some kind of social experiment?” I spat out, releasing a dry laugh. “Look, the session is almost over. Can I go now, or are you going to keep trying to analyze me like a lab specimen?”

The doctor seemed taken aback by my outburst. For a moment, his false calm facade cracked. I saw a flash of anger in his eyes before he could recompose himself. But he quickly regained his composure, clearing his throat.

“It’s okay, you’re right, we’re out of time for now,” he said in a conciliatory tone, glancing at the clock on the wall. “But remember, Jack, I’m here to help you. Not to judge you.”

I snorted. Sure, he wanted to help me. Help me to fit in, to be normal, to suppress my wild nature. That was the job of shrinks like him, right? “Curing” the damaged beasts.

I stood up abruptly, kicking the chair aside. The doctor flinched but said nothing. He gave me a wary look as I headed for the door.

“See you next week, Jack. Have a good afternoon,” he said in a neutral tone.

I nodded curtly and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The cool evening air hit my face as soon as I stepped outside the drab, monotonous building where the doctor had his office. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart.

I started walking quickly down the street, seeking to get as far away as possible from that den of torture masquerading as science. The wind tousled my grayish fur, so different from the jet black or auburn brown of pure wolves. My long triangular ears flickered with each step, picking up the sounds around me. Passersby glanced at me sideways, some with curiosity, others with suspicion, most with indifference. To them, I was just another face in the crowd, one more oddity in this city of oddities.

I kept walking aimlessly, crossing streets and avenues, letting my legs take me wherever they wanted. The tingling of anxiety still hadn’t left my body; I needed to release the frustration built up somehow.

Eventually, I arrived at a secluded park surrounded by trees and underbrush. It was one of my favorite spots to hang out, away from prying eyes. I headed towards a hidden corner, well sheltered from curious glances, and let myself fall onto the grass. The scent of moist earth filled my nostrils, comforting.

For a long while, I just lay there, looking at the clouds swirling in the darkening sky. Gradually, I felt the tension leaving my muscles. The stillness of the park was just what I needed after the upheaval of the session with the doctor.

Suddenly, a crackling of dry leaves put me on alert. I jumped to my feet, senses sharpened. I sniffed the air, looking for any sign of the intruder. A vaguely familiar scent reached me, accompanied by another crackle. I crouched down, ready to attack.

“It’s okay, it’s me.”

A figure emerged from the trees. I raised my eyebrows in surprise when I recognized the chocolate-furred wolf girl. I relaxed a bit but remained tense.

“Were you following me, Mia?” I asked suspiciously.

She shrugged with a mischievous smile. Her bright yellow eyes looked at me without a trace of fear. She was one of the few who had never made me feel like a freak.

“Maybe. I saw you storming past my street and got curious,” she admitted. “Bad day?”

I exhaled with bitterness.

“The same as always.”