Page 4 of Monster. Me.

FENN DRAX

Wilhelm wedges a pencil into the gap between his fang and premolar, and absentmindedly rolls it around while staring at the TV screen.

Some sensationalized TV special is playing on the screen, apparently about mysterious events in a snowbound town in Alaska, where people allegedly saw a giant wolf and a polar bear. I can’t really keep my attention on the story, though, because my head keeps drifting off-center.

The room smells like Wilhelm’s filthy lab coat, permanently soaked in cigarette smoke, and I’m constantly nauseated.

A nose clip is clamped over his nostrils, forcing him to breathe through his mouth. It actually looks kind of funny, a big orange piece of plastic sticking out from his potato nose. Everybody has to wear one around me. Otherwise, things tend to end badly for them. Or well, good, depending on how you look at it.

"By the way," Wilhelm finally tears himself away from his mindless TV-watching and mumbles, stretching out every syllable the way he always does. "I've got some news for you. They're moving you to Section AA. Lomax figured maybe spending some time looking at them will get you worked up."

Motionless, I'm lying flat on the bunk with an IV in my arm. They’ve taken so much blood that I feel like I might black out. I've been staring at the ceiling, but now I turn my eyes toward him.

Ugly bastard. He wears scrubs, but he's just an orderly. A pisshead and a sadist on top of that. I don't feel like talking to him. He genuinely enjoys watching me suffer.

Sometimes I curse the day I accepted Welrun's offer. Actually, scratch that, I do it every day. Still, once I survive this torture, I'll be a free man. The only problem is, the days crawl by way too slowly. Pain is my constant companion, and to keep myself sane, I build things in my head.

Beautiful things. Wooden furniture, gazebos, log cabins tucked away in the scenic mountains. I build them from the ground up, piece by piece. I pick the perfect board, one without knots. I can already see the cut line before the saw ever touches it. Measure, mark, slice, sand. Shapes emerge beneath my hands. Planers, chisels, drills all working with me to create something magnificent.

Before my life went to hell, that's what I did. I built houses. Made furniture for them. Finished every detail myself.

Then everything fell apart, and now I'm just a caged monster. A freak. A criminal.

But that’s not surprising, to be fair. That's how it goes for mutants. When we need a way out, we end up selling blood and pieces of ourselves, and right now I'm doing exactly that.

"What do you mean, watching?" I mumble, only half paying attention.

Wilhelm shoots me a quick sidelong glance.

"The cafeteria’s got a one-way mirror. They built you a little room behind it. You’ll be able to watch our beloved program participants during meals and all the other little gatherings. Dr. Lomax’s idea."

Wilhelm leans over my shoulder, and the heavy, sweat-soaked stench coming off him is killing me softly. My sense of smell is far better than that of an ordinary alpha, so other people’s lack of hygiene is pure torture.

The disgusting orderly brutally rips out the IV, and a sharp stab of pain tears through me.

Fucking asshole. He’s being rough on purpose. An ugly, acidic bruise blooms across my skin.

The pain throbs.

I look away from the butchered wound. He doesn’t even bother to disinfect it.

The constant pain…

Fuck, I hate it. It keeps dragging old memories to the surface, violating me with horrifying visions. A bloodbath. My parents sprawled in red pools on the floor. My brothers… No!

Sometimes the flashbacks are worse than the physical side of this whole nightmare I’m living in now.

But I've only got three months left. I can do three months, right? I have to. When I walk out of here, there'll be two million dollars sitting in my account. I'll get a fresh start. Maybe find work somewhere isolated. Perhaps open my own company building custom log homes. Though I'd probably need somebody to handle clients for me, because the second most humans get a look at my face, they'll run for the hills.

Humans.

Am I even one? Nobody's treated me like one for a very long time. Not since my parents.

I squeeze my eyes shut. The weakness and exhaustion bring what they always do.

Another memory slams into me.

My brothers and I are running through the forest.