Such Sharp Teeth

by Rachel Harrison

“I’m getting Aurora’d? How am I in trouble?”

It’s a particular form of torture that I wish I were alone in, though I know I’m not. For some reason I can never fully trust my own experience. I’m always treating myself like an unreliable witness. I offer no empathy, only an endless cycle of interrogation.

Bad things have a way of severing your life into “before” and “after.” It’s really annoying. “After you” is never quite the same, so I’ve learned.

“Hey, your wife was wondering, do you have a spare cow to give to Ian Pedretti in exchange for my hand in marriage?”

“I’m making an executive decision,” I tell Reaper, who is busy eating a leaf. “Time to go home.” He ignores me. “I’ll give you so many treats. A bounty of treats.” An ear perks. “Treats beyond your wildest imagination.” The other ear. Additional bribery and a few tugs of the leash and we’re on our way. I lead us at a brisk pace, afraid we’re being followed.

When you’re sad, you cry. When you’re happy, you smile, you laugh. But what do you do when you’re angry? Not just mad, but filled with this ugly, consuming rage? And the thing is, women aren’t allowed to be angry. Nobody likes a mad woman. They’re crazy, irrational, obnoxious, shrill.

The werewolf thing only enhances all the parts of me that were already broken and wrong. It’s trapped me with the worst of myself. It’s my reckoning.

I’m going to resolve this calmly and maturely and then move on with my life as a charismatic lady/terrifying beast.