8 September 2012

I sat on the bed. And stared. At the wall. At the ceiling. At the floor.

Behind me, my tail moved, twitching, thumping against the ground.

I lifted a hand to my face and nibbled a fingernail.

Bored.

So, so, SO bored.

My ears flickered, atop my head, as I caught the sound of footsteps moving towards my room.

I rose to my feet and walked across the room, my bare flesh slapping against the cold tiling.

One of the whitecoats greeted me with a fake smile, full of fake optimism and fake appraisal.

Fake. Fake. Fake.

'C'mon then, time for your treatment.'

I followed him down the block of rooms, listening to the movement of others behind the metal doors.

One boy was crying, and I could smell his fear, like a sour breeze in the air.

I wrinkled my nose.

We arrived at 'Room 48'. This was my testing room.

I sat in my chair, in the middle of the room, a bored expression still fixed on my face.

My tail brushed my upper back, frustratedly.

The whitecoat team strapped me down.

Then they brought out seven huge needles - the size of my forearm.

I balked.

I hated it when the treatment involved needles.

'Do we have to do needles today?' My voice emerged from my throat in a breathless rasp, with a hint of growl - betraying my feline genes.

'Now then, Girl, don't misbehave. Maybe you can do Assault Courses tomorrow.'

A felt a sharp sting and claws extended automatically from my knuckles.

Then, I drifted off into a restless, agonising unconsciousness.

HeatherAnnePart Girl, Part Lion. • Opuss № I