I felt exhausted

[Vivian's POV]

The room was decorated with various pictures of nature sceneries from all over the world and an assortment of knickknacks and other trinkets. It felt cozy for someone like me, a stranger who had spent three days sleeping under a tree. Cool rays of the sun streamed in through the window, disturbing my sleep.

The curtains were open, allowing the sunlight to create patterns on the marble floor. I could hear distant birds chirping and smelled the fresh grass—definite signs that it was morning. The air was clean, and the sounds and smells were both familiar and unfamiliar, a reminder of everything I didn’t know about the world beyond my beautiful city.

Even after sleeping for eight hours straight, I felt exhausted, as if every ounce of energy had been drained from my body. I scratched at myself with my eyes closed, inadvertently hitting my hand against the side table. I grabbed a couple of tissues from the box and wiped my runny nose, which felt damp and uncomfortable.

Reluctantly, I sat up on the bed, facing the wall. My head hung low, and my hair fell across my face as it often did. I struggled to open my eyes, still watery and puffy, making it hard to keep them open.

The sound of a bell rang in my ears, and I tried to suppress it with my fingers, but it was no use. The taste of blood lingered in my mouth, and visions of raw beef flashed before my eyes, making me feel nauseous. My body temperature fluctuated rapidly, causing goosebumps and shivers at the same time. My lips were chapped and dry from a lack of water.

I glanced at the clock on the wall—it was 9 AM. Panic surged through me as I threw the blanket aside and got up to take a shower; I only had an hour left to get to the police station.

But suddenly, with a loud scream, I pulled myself back onto the bed, tucking the blankets around my legs. I closed my eyes, taking deep breaths to regain my composure. Hesitantly, I removed the blanket from my feet and looked down, only to find them covered in white hair. I slowly pulled off my trousers and saw the same hair growing there too.

This was the first time I had seen it with my own eyes, and I couldn’t comprehend it. This wasn’t ordinary hair; it was wolf hair, as silver as snowflakes or the clear night in winter. No one had seen anything like it before—it wasn’t black, brown, grey, or blonde; it was pure white.

My heart raced as fear engulfed me completely. Panic overwhelmed me like nothing I had ever experienced before. This was not normal; it was something far more dangerous than I could even imagine. I reached out to touch it, and cold sweat dripped down my face as terror gripped my heart.

I jumped up and ran to the bathroom, my mind racing with tension and fear. I didn’t know what to do, so I grabbed whatever razor or scissors I could find and began to cut the hair from my feet and legs. But the realization of how painful that would be suddenly hit me. My hands froze as my eyes fell on my toenails and the soles of my feet, darker than the rest of my skin.

I stared at my feet in the bathroom mirror for a long moment, my heart heavy. Then I turned away from my reflection and emerged, wiping my eyes. I wasn’t sure if the tears were from fear and anxiety or just water from damage.

Back at my bed, I curled into a fetal position, my head hanging heavy with exhaustion. Every muscle in my body protested against moving, but I had to get up and go to work, especially after the murder cases. I rummaged through the closet for a pair of shoes to cover my white wolf hair and dark toenails.

How much had I changed in just one night? Watery eyes, a damp nose, white hair sprouting from my lower legs and feet, black toenails and soles, constant ringing in my ears, and that lingering taste of blood. Bruises bloomed across my body, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Even at the police station, everyone looked at me with strange eyes.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Emily asked, concern etched on her face when she saw my condition.

"Yes," I replied curtly, wiping my eyes and nose with tissue paper.

Emily examined me from head to toe. My voice felt strange today—heavier, louder.

"Have you seen a doctor?" she asked.

"No, I have a little cold and fever. I’ll self-medicate and be fine," I insisted, fingers flying over the computer keyboard.

"A little cold? Does this look like a little cold? Your eyes are so watery and puffy as if you’ve been crying all night. Come on, get up and go to the doctor," she urged, grabbing my arm. I jerked away, causing her hand to slam against the table.

I sensed pity in her gaze, and it stung. She retreated to her seat, leaving me alone.

It’s strange how, when a person tries to save themselves from their own turmoil, they become impulsive. They start to view everyone around them—family, friends—as enemies. I felt that there was no point in explaining anything to anyone; they wouldn’t understand.

In my case, things felt even stranger. Who could I tell what was happening to me? How could I say that I couldn’t handle this alone anymore, that I needed someone with me? I didn’t want to scare anyone by revealing my condition. My whole body ached, as if all my bones had been broken.

I felt like an old lady with arthritis; my joints throbbed. It was as if I had traveled centuries in one night, gripped by an overwhelming sense of loneliness. I didn’t want to endure this, but there was nothing else I could do.

My current state made me feel utterly depressed and helpless. I lost track of time, staring blankly into space, my mind swirling with thoughts. Suddenly, I was startled by a knock on the table. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a man standing nearby, playing with the table using two fingers.

"Yes," I replied without looking up.

"It seems that the world of fantasy is better and more interesting than reality," a deep male voice said, startling me.

His words felt intrusive, and he was so close I could barely move. I felt frozen, as if time had stopped. I couldn’t feel my legs or move my fingers. My body was a statue in the center of the room, trapped in a moment that felt eternal.

I tried to scream for help, but no sound came out, and even my ears seemed to go silent.