It's hard enough being an undergraduate student, an intern at Downtown Manhattan's police station, and a bouncer at a local bar. Add her now ex-boyfriend who recently dumped her for the school's resident bimbo—oh, and she's a werewolf.
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With shaky fingers, I tried inserting the key into the lock. After a few unsuccessful tries, I was finally able and flung the door open. Taking three steps at a time, I got to the third floor and slammed my shoulder into my apartment door, leaving it hanging off the hinges. My canines and claws were out and the hair on my arms were thickening. Once I passed the threshold of my apartment, I started to strip my clothes off as I walked towards the back bedroom.
I let out a shriek as my shoulder bones snapped and I involuntarily hunched over while holding on to the door knob. I’m almost there, c’mon, hang on, I told myself as I struggled to open the bedroom door and slam it shut behind me. I reached a distorted arm towards the cage and gripped one of the steel bars—flinging myself inside. Now on all fours, I crawled to the lock and clipped it shut.
As if the sound of the bolt was permission enough, a howl ripped through me and the wolf was set free.
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