Cherry
Iwake to a familiar burning pain on my skin, near my stomach, and gasp as I try to sit up, but my limbs are still cuffed to the table. A minute passes before the pain eases into more of an intense throb. I know from experience that it will fade completely over the next few minutes.
“Ah, you’re awake. That was your longest death yet. Ninety-four minutes!” Dr. J says happily. I tilt my head and see him sitting in a chair in the corner, checking his watch and writing in his notebook.
Something about the length I stay dead seems to interest him.
The type of death somehow factors into the time it takes for me to recover.
My theory is that the more of my body that needs to regenerate, the longer it takes.
Which makes sense that this would be the longest one. I had to regrow all of my skin.
I shiver as I remember the pain and realize I’m no longer paralyzed, thank goodness, though I am still tied down and muzzled.
I’m not sure what my body looks like while I’m dead, if they watch it fix itself, if I stay in my wolf form the whole time, or if I change to human as soon as I die.
My family stayed in wolf form when they died.
Of course, they never came back to life.
Wolf shifters don’t have that power. Not until whatever experiments Dr. J did to me to give me immortality.
Whichever form I die in, is the form I wake up in. Although, it’s been years since I tested that theory with my human side. But I tended to feel a whole lot more in that body.
Besides, I don’t have any clothing to wear, and it’s freezing in my cell. Plus, the raw meat they feed me has to be eaten by my wolf side. I also feel safer in this form, able to better hide my body, pain, emotions, and thoughts from them.
“Alright, you can take her back now,” Dr. J tells the guards.
They take the leather cuffs off my legs and carry me back to my cell, making me internally wince when they drop me on the cold, hard cement floor. They take the muzzle off, but I have no energy to try to bite them.
They probably taste disgusting anyway.
After I regenerate, my energy is completely depleted. It takes me a long time to recover, which I think is the only reason they make me wait a few days between sessions.
What I really need is food, water, and rest to help me heal faster, but they never go out of their way to speed up my recovery. I’ll be lucky to be fed in the morning, if I even wake up for it. Sometimes I’m out for days, although it’s hard to tell most of the time.
Unable to move, I just curl up into a ball where they’ve dumped me and close my eyes, wishing I was anywhere but here.
I try to recall a fond memory from my childhood. It hurts to think about them, but I also want to hold on to those memories and not forget my family. To remember that even though I’m here, in this awful place, there are good people out there.
There has to be.
I think it’s only two days before I’m led back to the lab.
I’m usually given more time to recover, so my body is still extremely sluggish.
When the two guards, Thatcher and Jason, escort me into the lab, the doc is nowhere in sight.
I turn my head to watch as they shut the door, then they turn to look at me with cruel smiles on their faces as they exchange a knowing glance.
“Shift,” Jason barks out with a glare aimed at me.
My stomach drops. I’ve never been alone in here with only the guards before. What is it they want from me? I turn to face them as best I can with the leash stick still attached around my neck.
“I said, shift!”
Thatcher takes a step toward me as Jason holds the stick firmly, not allowing me to retreat. I growl as Thatcher moves around behind me, where I can’t see him. Suddenly, a muzzle is pulled over my head, and I try to shake it free, but he clips it in place with expert speed.
“It’s been a long time since anyone here has seen your human body. Rumor has it, it’s quite something. We want to see for ourselves. Now don’t make us mad, shift!” Jason says with a mix of anger and excitement.
Ice runs through my veins at what they’re implying. There is no way I’ll ever let them violate my human body. Being sexually assaulted is the one thing I haven’t had to endure yet. It’s one of the main reasons I’ve been in this form for so long. It’s the only protection I can give myself.
When they see I’m not going to shift, Thatcher moves to the table nearest him and plucks up a large knife. “Shift, or this will get messy.”
I shake my head, trying to pull away to no avail. I’d rather die than shift for these assholes.
Thatcher narrows his eyes at me. “Fine, have it your way.”
Before I can react, he darts forward and plunges the knife into my side, making me cry out as the sudden pain takes me by surprise. In my weakened state, I’m unable to stay upright and collapse to my side.
I don’t think it’s a fatal blow, but fear of what he’ll do next has me lying as still as possible. He frowns down at me as if this isn’t what he expected. It gives me an idea: if I act as if I’m dying, maybe he’ll stop his attack.
Closing my eyes slowly, I try to slow my breathing as much as I can. I’m not sure if he’s buying it, but a minute later, my patience is finally rewarded.
“Thatcher, you idiot. You weren’t supposed to kill her. Now what do we do?”
“She’ll regen in about fifteen or twenty minutes, then we'll try again. This time I’ll try a different method of persuasion."
“Is she really worth it?” Jason asks, sounding a little worried.
“Yes. I’ve had my eye on this little bitch for years.
I got a glimpse of her once, years ago, and I imagine she has only gotten better since then.
Besides, you heard Dr. J. They were so happy with her fur that he’s been instructed to produce two of her pelts per week.
They’re going to sell for a huge price. Sounds like that’s all they’re going to do with her from now on.
I mean, she’s been here so long, they’ve probably done all the experiments possible by now.
I want to get a piece of her before she shuts down.
I don’t imagine she’ll last many skinnings before her mind completely breaks. ”
It takes everything I have not to vomit at the thought of not only being skinned repeatedly for the rest of my life, but the thought of someone walking around wearing my skin as a goddamned coat.
“Fuck, man, that’s kinda sick. I need a drink to get that image out of my head.
Let’s come back in ten minutes to make sure we don’t miss her regeneration,” Jason says, sounding put off.
Good. At least not everyone is totally unaffected by what’s being done to me.
Not that it matters. He apparently still wants to rape me even though he knows what I’m going through.
The sound of their heavy boots has me holding my breath until I hear the slam of the door.
My eyes fly open and I glance around quickly.
They left me here… alive and alone. What a pair of idiots. They didn’t even check to make sure I was dead. They aren’t normally that incompetent, but then again, they’ve never taken me out of my cage for anything other than my sessions either.
The problem is, I’ve got a giant stab wound in my side, a muzzle on my mouth, and the leash stick around my neck. I need to shift to get these things off me and bandage myself up.
But it’s been years since I shifted. So long, in fact, that I’m not sure I can anymore. I try to focus on my human form, but nothing happens. I try again but feel absolutely nothing. Not even a stir of my magic.
I’ll have to escape in my wolf form. It will be hard, but I’m not going to let this chance pass me by.
I use my front paws to try to loosen the rope around my neck. After a minute, I finally manage to get a paw through it and work it loose, pulling my head free.
I can’t think of a way to get the muzzle off without fingers and thumbs, so I decide to leave that for later.
Right now, I need to get out of here, but the trouble is, I’ll need an access card to open all the doors.
Looking up toward the workbench at the side of the room, I remember seeing a card there on occasion when I was trying to distract myself from one of the doc’s experiments.
Standing on my hind legs, I grunt at the pain in my side but push through it as I glance around the tops of the benches. I move over a few feet and look again. The tables are covered in all sorts of stuff, so I keep going, praying I’ll find something.
Then, finally, I see it—an access card!
I move closer, using my front paw to pull it to the edge, then realize the problem. I still have the muzzle on. How am I supposed to hold it?
I try to work my jaw open and find that the muzzle has a small amount of give in it.
Just enough for my jaw to open half an inch.
But now the metal cage of the muzzle is in the way.
The bars on it are a few inches apart, so I turn my head at different angles, trying to figure out if there is a way for the card to fit through enough for my teeth to latch onto it.
I refuse to give up, but it’s like trying to grip onto a splinter under your skin. Over and over, I try to grasp it, getting more frustrated with each pass.
Finally, I tilt my head at just the right angle, allowing the corner of the card to slip between my front teeth. I bite down hard, unwilling to let it drop as I know that if it lands on the floor, I’ll probably never be able to pick it up again.
When I move back onto all fours, I notice drops of blood. The wound in my side is bleeding, but there’s no way to bind it in this form. I just have to hope my fur absorbs enough of it that it doesn’t leave a trail behind me.