"Because I killed them!" The words explode out of him, raw and jagged. "I killed my entire unit. Not through negligence or bad planning or tactical errors. I physically tore them apart with my bare hands because I couldn't control what I am!"
My mind scrambles to make sense of it. Tore them apart with his bare hands? How is that even possible? He's strong, yes, enormous and powerful, but that kind of violence—
"You were in some kind of fugue state," I try. "PTSD episode, maybe. I've read about soldiers who—"
"No." He sounds exhausted now, all the fight gone out of him. "It wasn't PTSD. It was exactly what I said. I lost control of the animal inside me and it killed everyone. Friend and enemy alike."
"The animal inside you."
"Yes."
"Rhett, people don't have animals inside them. That's—"
"I do." He sits up suddenly, and I hear the rustle of fabric. "And before you tell me it's a metaphor or trauma or whatever explanation makes sense to you, let me be clear. I mean it literally. There's a bear that lives inside me, shares this body with me, and when I let it out, it kills."
A beat. Two. Three.
Then I start laughing.
I can't help it. The absurdity of it, the impossibility, the idea that this serious, traumatized man actually expects me to believe—
"You think I'm joking?" His voice cuts through my laughter like a blade.
"No, I think you're—" I catch myself before I say 'crazy.' "I think you're using metaphor to describe something you don't have better words for. The beast inside, the monster you have to control. I get it. It's powerful imagery for PTSD or rage issues or—"
"It's not a metaphor."
"Rhett—"
"You want proof?" There's something new in his voice now. Something that makes my laughter die in my throat. "You said you felt fur when I carried you. You weren't hallucinating. You weren't delirious. You were right."
"That's not possible."
"Watch."
"Watch what—"
The sound that comes from him is like nothing I've ever heard. Not quite human, not quite animal. Somewhere in between, terrible and primal.
And then—
The darkness shifts. Something is happening, something my eyes can't quite track but my brain is screaming about. The shape of him is changing, getting bigger, different.
I scramble backward in the bed, my back hitting the wall, my heart in my throat.
"Rhett?" My voice comes out small, terrified. "Rhett, what's happening?"
A growl answers me. Deep and rumbling and definitely not human.
And then the fire flares, I don't know how, maybe he kicked the logs, and in the sudden light I see him.
Not him. It.
A bear. Enormous, covered in dark brown fur, standing on two legs at the foot of the bed. Its eyes are the same dark brown as Rhett's, but wrong, too intelligent, too knowing.
Those eyes are looking at me. I can't breathe. Can't think. Can't do anything except stare at the impossible thing in front of me. The bear takes a step toward me, and I hear a sound escape my throat—half gasp, half scream.
It stops immediately, then… Then it's changing again. Shrinking, the fur receding, the shape becoming human once more. Rhett stands where the bear was, breathing hard, naked in the firelight.
