Six long hours of blood transfusions and endless stitching, and the ward had finally calmed down. Dahlia curled up next to Holly’s wounded side. The nurse gave Holly powerful painkillers. She said she would be out for at least two days. I planned on staying by her side the entire time.
The heavy black threads that ran across my friend’s cheek in four long, neat rows sent my stomach plummeting. She would carry those scars with her for the rest of her life. Tears welled up in my tired eyes and fell. I flicked them away with my finger, unable to look away from her horrific, swollen wounds.
When Holly eventually woke up, she would barely be able to recognize herself. She might not have contracted the werewolf virus, or whatever caused a human to Turn, but she went through an entirely different transformation—a gruesome one that would compete in haunting my dreams for the rest of my life.
The Records Room