Page 325 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

I have to pause because I feel like fucking shit and I'm tired.

"Take your time," Dr. Jackson says.

I try again. Constant pain. Can't wear a mask without feeling like my face is on fire.

She writes on her clipboard, nodding, not rushing me. When I'm done, she sets the pen down and rolls closer on her chair.

"Can I take a look? Same as always. You tell me to stop and I stop."

I nod reluctantly.

She stands and angles the overhead exam light toward my face. The beam hits me, the brightness burning through my eyelids when I shut them. She adjusts it, dimming it as much as she can, but it's still a spotlight aimed at the worst parts of me.

My stomach turns.

"I'm going to start on the left side," she murmurs. "Light pressure. Okay?"

I grip the armrest with one hand and Ivy's fingers with the other, trying not to squeeze too hard.

Her gloved fingertips make contact with the tissue below my left ear.

FUCK.

My whole body jerks sideways. A snarl rips out of my ruined throat before I can stop it and I'm halfway out of the chair before Ivy's hand on my arm pulls me back.

I breathe hard through my nose, chest heaving, and force myself back down.

The exam takes fucking forever.

Every touch is its own private hell. She presses along the nerve clusters along my jaw, my chin, the exposed muscle where skin and flesh should be. She checks the sutures and probes gently along the scar through my eyebrow, which doesn't bother me.

I hold still through all of it.

Barely.

By the time she finishes, I'm panting like a beast.

Sweat is running down my scarred throat, soaking the collar of my hoodie. The hand Ivy's clutching in both of hers has gone numb from how hard I've been squeezing, and when I try to ease up, I realize my fingers don't want to cooperate.

Did I hurt you? I try to sign with my free hand, but I can't, and my quivering, twitching hand drops uselessly into my lap.

Dr. Jackson pulls her glasses off and cleans them with the hem of her coat. She takes her time putting them back on.

Not a good sign.

"You mentioned in your email a packmate brought up BioMuzzle," she says.

"Plague sent some research," Ivy says quietly from beside me, rubbing the back of my hand, massaging the bones until my fingers flex. "I read it and watched some videos, but Wraith has been too out of it to read much."

"Is he the one who did the sutures?"

"Yeah. He went to pre-med."

"Well. He should go back. He clearly knows what he's doing," Dr. Jackson says, picking up her pen again. "BioMuzzle is a stabilizer. It targets the neural pathways responsible for feral dissociative episodes and aggression. It won't cure anything. But it can keep those pathways from deteriorating further."

"What are the side effects?" Ivy asks.

"Dulled scent perception for the first couple of weeks while your system adjusts. Fatigue, mild nausea during the adjustment period. Anxiety. All temporary in the reported cases." She checks her clipboard. "Compassionate use protocols were just approved in Canada. You can bring it into the States through the program. I've already started the paperwork on our end, just in case. Given your profile, I'd recommend an injection every month. You can pick it up from a compounding pharmacy and self-administer them at home. I'm sure whoever did those sutures can manage that."