I’m approached a few times by random chicks but sinking balls deep inside some broad isn’t really inspiring a hard-on tonight. If the need gets to me, I have two hands.
50
Maximus “Max”
He’s back. I can hear his footsteps on the stairs outside the door. I don’t know what day it is or how long he’s been gone, but now he’s here for more teasing and provoking.
The light from the stairwell brightens my darkened cell, and this time he doesn’t shut the door. He’s followed in by two more men with guns. They’ve come to gawk at the human Genocide is holding hostage, waiting for an animal to emerge. Keep waiting, fuckers.
The shortest man looks at Genocide, then back to me. “Oh, Gen, she’s a beauty.”
“I know. Her lynx will be a gorgeous edition to my collection of game and fur rugs. I plan to put this one in my living room.”
The other guy, tall and balding, steps between Gen and the shorty. “Yes, she certainly will be. How long before she phases?”
“I don’t know, Jim, she’s a stubborn one.”
“I’m not an animal,” I shout, pulling at the cuffs around my wrists, rattling the chains in the floor. “I don’t have the ability to shift, you asshole!”
All three of them laugh. The guy Genocide referred to as Jim steps in front of him and reaches for me. I cringe, pulling myself back on the tiny cot until I’m up against the wall in the corner. “I’ll pay good money for part of her fur,” Jim says, reaching for me and yanking on my ankle. He pulls me to him, running his slimy finger down the side of my face in the same manner Genocide had several days ago. He is revolting.
My stomach coils at his touch and I have the intense urge to bite the shit out of him. I grit my teeth, a growl escaping from the depths of my throat. “Get away from me.”
“She is a feisty one, Gen,” Jim says as he continues to touch my face.
“Let’s leave her be. When she gets tired of being in those cuffs, she’ll emerge,” Genocide says, heading for the door.
Jim pats me on the head as he follows the shorty and Genocide to the door. “Sleep tight, animal.”
I yank on the cuffs, the chains clanking against the floor and stirring up the dust each time they hit the concrete. “Get bent, you asshole!”
The light shuts off once again and I’m back in darkness except for the tiny lamp in the corner of the room. I’ve lost track of the hours I’ve been down here. For all I know, it’s been months, but I hope not.
I crawl off the cot and pace the length of the tiny room. It’s more like a cell inside of a prison that’s locked away in the depths of hell. Right now, I wish I were a lynx because I would be ripping the throats of those assholes wide open. I’d disembowel them all one at a time and make the others watch as one dies.
I can only hope and pray that the faceless man I keep talking to in my head hears me and comes to find me. I can’t explain the link to him, I’m just thankful it exists. I don’t want to die down here, but the longer I’m stuck, the more I feel like my fate is death.
51
Salvation
I felt her last night—all of her as she pulled and yanked against the chains keeping her captive in a small, dark place. I’m linked to a woman whose cries invade my mind. The connection is so intense, so raw, that I’m finding it difficult to contain the panther within.
Her agitation coursing through her body bleeds into my veins and before I know what’s happening, my animal is clawing his way out. I shed my clothes, boots first, jeans next, followed by my kutte and my t-shirt. I step off my porch and race for the trees behind my home. Leaping into the air, I clear the brush just beyond the fence and land hard on the ground before breaking into a full sprint. My arms and legs snap, bringing forth the giant cat that lies within, my black coat shining in the light of the sunrise. I keep running, my heart rate accelerating as my claws sink into the wet grass beneath my paws. This is my release, my freedom.
I break through the trees at the top of the hill, slowing my run to a trot. I find a comfortable spot to watch the sun come up and lie down in the grass. My body relaxes into the softness of the wooded forest floor and time slows to a crawl as the world around me comes to life. The sun rises over the treetops, birds chirp overhead, the wind blows across my fur, and I stretch out under the sun. I roll across the leaves, stirring up the ground under me. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. It’s peaceful here and no one is around to bother me. I don’t have to worry about anyone seeing me phase or being hunted by some asshole who likes large game for their trophy wall, or the fur of my coat used as a rug laid pretty in front of a fireplace or bedroom floor. I’ve never understood the sport of hunting, I think it’s stupid, completely barbaric and it puts the animal at a disadvantage. Give us the gun and let us hunt the humans for once. They wouldn’t stand a chance against a big bad cat with a gun and claws as sharp as razor blades.
I spend most of the morning surveying the area behind my home, letting the slight breeze ruffle my fur and tickle my whiskers. I take a dip in the spring that trickles through the creek and lie in wait for my breakfast, licking myself occasionally. Once
