Chapter 4

"I did what?" Dominic asked. He fell back onto the bed, rubbing his wrists, which itched like mad.

"You attacked one of my nurses, teeth bared and ready to rip. Like a wild animal," Dr. Miles said. She stood over the bed and looked at him. "You don't remember anything do you?"

Dominic shook his head - not a thing. Dr. Miles walked to the hallway and called out a name, "Jasmine". A small woman in her mid-twenties appeared at the door like a mouse facing off against a huge cat.

"It's ok, Jasmine. You can come in. You'll find him quite stable now." Jasmine winced, but approached, Dominic watching her and feeling something inside - lust? No, it wasn't lust. He didn't want to have sex with her. But he wanted her. He could tell that much. He just would never be able to articulate how, exactly.

"Do you remember Jasmine?" Dr. Miles asked. Dominic again shook his head. "But you feel something for her, don't you?" Dominic shot her a look. How did she know? "Thank you, Jasmine. You can go." Jasmine didn't wait for another offer. She took off out of the door and down the hall, her white rubber-souled shoes squeaking down the hallway.

"Remnants of a desire to feed, I'm afraid." Dr. Miles continued.

"What?" Dominic sat up in the bed. This was not going at all as he expected. Then again, what can you expect when you wake up shackled in a hospital bed?

"You suffer from what's called Clinical Lyncanthropy. It's a self-identity disorder in which the patient, you, believes themselves to be an animal, usually a dog or a wolf, although there can be other types of associations. Birds, tigers, that kind of thing. It's a form of schizophrenia-"

"What? I'm schizophrenic?" Dominic shot up, a sick feeling growing in his stomach.

"Technically, yes. But your case is interesting in a couple of ways. One, the quickness of its onset, unassociated with any trauma or repression. And two, the normal state is quite, well, normal. You exhibit no other symptoms during the day or night when the full moon is not out. It's one of the more advanced cases I've found."

Dominic flopped back into the bed. "Holy shit. I'm a whacked out werewolf."

Dr. Miles laughed and patted his hand. "Not to worry. Usually psychotherapy or neuroleptic drugs do the trick. I'll get you started on a prescription for Risperadone, small dosages to start with, then leveling off once it takes hold. That should do you fine."

"Not necessarily," came a voice from behind her. Dominic leaned over to look around her as Dr. Miles twisted around. An older man with a bald head and goatee stood tall in the doorway and smiled. "Forgive my intrusion," he said with a thick eastern European accent. Almost Russian. "I am Dr. Andrei Debrovich. I am an expert in Clinical Lycanthropy and I believe I can help young Dominic here without the use of drugs.