Page 327 of Pucking Feral: Part Two

"Halfway," Dr. Jackson says calmly.

The plunger depresses further and the fire spreads, branching like lightning along the nerve pathway from my ear to my chin. My vision whites out completely and I'm gripping the armrest so hard the leather splits under my fingers.

She withdraws.

I gasp.

One down.

Three to go.

The second injection goes behind my right ear. This one is worse, so much worse that my body bucks involuntarily and Dr. Jackson has to pause and wait for me to breathe.

Ivy's forehead presses against our joined hands. I feel her lips moving against my knuckles. Words I can't hear through the roaring in my skull.

Third injection.

Along the left jawline, directly into the exposed muscle.

My teeth snap together so hard they catch my tongue and my own blood fills my mouth.

Dr. Jackson pulls the needle free and sets it on the tray. "One more."

Please…

The needle enters and the pain crests into something beyond pain, beyond fire, beyond anything I have a word for even if I could speak.

And then it's over, and Ivy is halfway in my lap because I pulled her with me somehow.

"Done," Dr. Jackson says. "You did well."

I'm so fucking dizzy I almost pitch forward and end up on the floor. Ivy's behind me now, rubbing my back, and I bend all the way forward with my free hand digging into my hair and the other still wrapped around Ivy's.

Dr. Jackson says something to Ivy about prescriptions and a follow-up appointment but the words pass through me.

No masks.

Ever.

No. Masks.

By the time I come back into my body and stand up, my doctor is gone. The room swims and Ivy catches my arm, steadying me, but I'm already reaching for my throat with my other hand. My fingers find the gaiter bunched around my neck and I pull it up in one motion, settling it over my nose, over my jaw, like I've done a thousand fucking times.

"Wraith…" Ivy says softly.

I'm already at the door.

My hand hits the handle and I pull it open, ducking through the frame and into the bright white corridor. The light sears my retinas and I yank my hood forward, head down, moving fast. My boots eat the linoleum in long strides.

Ivy's footsteps are right behind me, quick and light, almost jogging to match my pace.

The sliding doors open and the cold air hits me and I keep walking, around to the side of the building where there are no cars and no people, nothing except a dumpster and cracked concrete and weeds pushing through.

I stop, panting.

Every breath feels like hot lead's being dumped into my face. My vision swims. A snarl, a dangerous one, rumbles through my aching jaws.

My knees buckle and I rip the gaiter off, the seams tearing.