This Place Isn't a Hospital

*Hezzlie*

“What the fuck is going on?” I ask Dr. Bolton as he sits, uncomfortable, across from me in the seating area by the window that looks out over the mountain range. The sun is starting to set, painting the sky in hues of pink and gold. I can only imagine how breathtaking this view will be of the mountains blanketed in starlight, but right now, I need to know why I’m here.
And where here is exactly.
“I’m sorry, Hezzlie.”
“You said that before, as I recall. Why are there wolves everywhere I look? Why are you paying my mother so much money? Why can’t she stay for my birthday?”
“Slow down.” He holds up a hand to try to get me to calm a bit, but it’s useless. I’m just getting started.
“How long will I need to stay here? Since this isn’t actually a hospital, will I even get any better? Are you even a doctor?”
“Hezzlie–”
“And who is this Rowan asshole and is he really even a king–”
“Enough!”
I lean back in my chair, my eyes enlarging as the color fades from my face. I’ve never heard Dr. Bolton shout before, and he looks like I hit a nerve.
It was probably the part where I called his king an asshole. My bad.
“Hezzlie, I understand you want to know what’s happening.” He runs a hand through his light-brown hair and takes a few deep breaths. Turns out sometimes doctors do practice what they preach since he’s always telling me to do that. “I’ll explain what I can to you, but I cannot tell you everything. And don’t call Alpha King Rowan names–it’s not a good idea.”
“Why not?” I’m, apparently, still feeling defiant. “Can he hear me in here?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Are you going to tell him?” I fold my arms across my chest.
“No, but someone else might overhear, and you just never know. One thing you’ll have to learn about living in a house with servants is that the walls have ears.” He looks around, but I don’t see any indication that anyone is eavesdropping.
Still, he has a point. I’ll try to remember that. “Why am I here?”
“This is where I live,” he begins. “I wanted to treat you in a place where I’d have more resources. You won’t be here that long, Hezzlie, but while you’re here, I think you’ll find out the reason why you’re having these dreams about being a wolf.”
I stare at him, unblinking, for several seconds, not sure what to make of that. “Is my treatment going to change?”
“Yes. No more medication. No more restraints.”
My eyes go to the window. “It’s a long way down.”
“You can’t break this window.” He reaches over and taps on it. Though it looks like an ordinary window, it doesn’t sound the same. I believe him. “You will be locked in your room at night.”
“Where’s your room? Will you be able to hear me if I need help?” Sometimes, when I’m lost in a wolf dream, I can’t wake myself up.
“I’ll be nearby.” He’s nodding, but something about his expression makes me question whether or not that’s the whole truth of the matter. Maybe he’s got nurses or other staff that could also potentially help.
“No more booty juice?”
He drags a hand down his face and curses under his breath. “I really hate that term.”
“I really hate that place.” Thinking of Peripheral sends a chill shooting down my spine.
“Me, too,” he admits. “You don’t have to worry about it anymore, though.”
“How did you find me there?” I change the subject abruptly again.
“I’m a specialist.” He shrugs.
“A specialist in people who think they are wolves?”
Letting out a sigh, he leans forward a bit. “Do you think you’re a wolf?”
“Not when I'm awake.”
“I am a specialist in individuals who have disorders associated with wolves, yes.”
My forehead crinkles. “Is there a high demand for that?”
“You’d be surprised.” He shifts in his chair slightly, like he’s uncomfortable but doesn’t want me to know.
“Do you think you’re a wolf?” I narrow one eye and lean the top of my head at him.
Dr. Bolton shakes his head. “I know exactly who I am, Hezzlie. Give me a week or two, and so will you.”
I should find comfort in his words, but I hear the same tone of foreboding in them that I noted when we arrived, and he apologized because I’d seen the wolves on the porch.
Something about this place is off. I’m trusting this man because he says he’s a doctor–because he says he can help me–but I’m not entirely convinced.
Yet, I have no choice but to stay here. I couldn’t escape if I wanted to. And then, there’s the money.
“Are you really giving my mother a half a million dollars?” I ask bluntly.
Again, he nods. “That’s right.”
“Why? If people who have some mental illness associated with wolves are a dime a dozen, why do you need to pay her to get me here?” None of this is adding up to me.
“That’s not quite what’s happening.” He shakes his head and lets out a stuttering breath. “Hezzlie, I’m in a position where I have a budget that allows me to compensate patients who have been mistreated by other facilities, such as yourself. Your mother clearly needs the money. I was happy to give it to her.”
“Are you some sort of a charity?” I don’t like this answer one bit.
“No, not exactly. This is a wealthy kingdom. Rowan has more money than he knows what to do with, so he allows his staff a budget. I made her an offer I thought was fair.” He says it so nonchalantly, but this answer just sparks a million more questions for me.
“Does Rowan want me here?” I think back to how unbelievably rude he was to me earlier.
Yet, Dr. Bolton doesn’t hesitate. “Absolutely he does.”
A laugh erupts from my mouth, and when it hits my ear, it sounds so unhinged, I’m almost certain I’m crazy. But Dr. Bolton doesn’t even flinch. “I got the impression he doesn’t like me much.”
“I get that impression from him all the time, but I’m one of his best friends.” Another shrug. “That’s just how he is. It doesn’t matter. You probably won’t see much of him while you’re here.”
Most of me really likes that idea, but I have to admit to myself it also makes me a little disappointed. Rowan is… well, he’s fucking hot. He’s definitely easy on the eyes. And when I was standing in front of him, even though I looked like I’d just fallen out of a turnip truck, I liked having his eyes on me.
It’s for the best, though. I’m not here to try to impress some king. I’m here to get the idea that I’m a wolf out of my brain.
“I need to go.” Dr. Bolton slaps both armrests before pushing up out of the chair. “If I don’t see you before you go to bed… try to remember not to be scared. I’ll be nearby.” He meets my gaze, and I find myself nodding in understanding.
“Thanks, Doc.” I watch him walk to the door and then let out another long sigh.
He’s right–tonight is going to be hard. I won’t have any medicine to help me calm down after the nightmare. I’ll be on my own, and if I start getting loud and unruly, I might wake up a whole bunch of other people. I remember that Mom’s room is on the other side of the house from me. At least it’s on the same floor.
For the next few hours, I wander around my room, check out the clothes in the closet, eat dinner with my mom–in my room–and watch the stars twinkle over the top of the mountains. At Peripheral, I had to go to bed at exactly 9:00. Now, I can stay up as long as I want to. Part of me wants to stay up all night because then I’ll never dream.
I’ll never think I’m a wolf.
But I am exhausted, and around midnight, I finally find a pair of pajamas in one of the drawers and go put them on. I brush my teeth with an actual toothbrush and wash my face before climbing into bed.
The mattress is soft, the sheets are silky, and the pillow is just the right amount of fluffiness. I should sleep safe and sound until the first rays of morning awaken me.
But I know I won’t.
Not long after I close my eyes, I find myself walking through a beautiful, enchanted forest in the mountains. The moon beams down on me, and a sense of adventure has me rushing further beneath the canopy of trees. I shift into my wolf form and run wherever my four legs take me.
Then, I get that familiar sense that something isn’t right. I try to shift back into my human form, but I can't.
I begin to scream.