Seth and I haven’t always been friends. I sometimes wonder if it ihadn’t been for necesity would we be friends at all? As I lay propped up on pillows I will vent my tale on to this notepad, so as I heal I dont die from boredom . This is a good form of therapy or so my good doctors tell me, who knows maybe I will have time off for good behaviour. St Theresa’s is always encouraging good behaviour, either that or the tank.

That’s how I came to be here. Not in St Theresa’s but in their infirmary. The doctors say that I did myself a mischief in the tank. They go on about how I howled and snarled like a caged animal, how I savaged the tank like one as well not to mention my own body. But what can you do? There’s nothing to bite in the tank but the sterile padded walls or your own salty flesh that bursts with hot sweet pain and flows with blood when pierced. It’s not that I feel the need to bite it is an unconscious necessity. Like breathing. Like breathing I’m unaware of doing it. Sometimes. Biting was how I met Seth.

I was delivering engine parts to Auto mania a garage in the heath lands. I will not say where exactly for there are “others” there and I will not impose my fate on them. To be hunted down and end up here, no one deserves St Theresa’s. Back to Seth. He was a part time temp. Always looked so peaky and pale, his clothes though modern and neat looked worn. His eyes always looked bright when they caught mine. They seemed to get brighter more intense every time I saw him which was whenever I could over the short months he worked at the garage.

The back yard where cars were kept for scrap, with its loose soil floating around in the air like dust. Nothing seemed to grow there except the shrubs of exotic rust corroded metal. I tugged my cap down over my eyes, pulled up my cotton scarf over my mouth and nose to keep the dirt out. I shifted the box on my hip and carried the clipboard under my arm. Paulie came to meet me as I held out the clipboard to anyone who would sign.

“You came in from the back?” his voice was harsh.

“Yep”

“Just be careful there’s a stray wandering round in there somewhere, none too friendly either.”

“Yep” I wasn’t interested in Paulie and certainly wasn’t interested in any strays. I wanted to see Seth. I remember looking past Paulie. “Seth in today?” I tried to sound casual; I think I tried too hard because Paulie said.

“No. didn’t even have the common decency to call in sick; we’ve had to let him go this isn’t the first time. About the same time last month he pulled this stunt. And through June now I come to think of it. His contract was going to end soon anyway, cheer up gal. Aint the end of the world. Many fine mechanics on this yard would take ya dancin’ I nodded as he handed back the clipboard and took the parcel from me. Dancing! I’m just as sure now that “dancing” was not what Paulie or any of the others had in mind.

“Catch you later Paulie”

 I was already turning the corner out of sight by the time he called a reply.

The backyard of the garage seemed to be a graveyard of cars. Ancient spare parts, old tyres, skeletal frame, useful junk lay forgotten. I took a well trodden path weaving my past the obstacles, the same path I always tread. My mind as busy as the westerly wind kicking up just as much fuss. I walked past an old off road truck. Thinking as I always did  what colour it was originally. My mind working  that way a distraction.  I wasn’t thinking of Seth. Seth would have known the model of it damn. Think of something else. My bike. I could see it on the other side of the wire fence. It’s tyre flat. Seth had promised to help me change it. I remember thinking Seth wouldn’t have come this way any way. I mean in the backyard .he hated dogs and they really didn’t like him. As though summoned by my thoughts the stray appeared from behind the truck. In my mind I cursed Paulie it was as big as a bear. Why hadn’t he said it was this huge? It’s a well known fact that dogs can smell fear and I was scarred. I did what I advised other people not to do when faced with a strange dog. I ran.

Unlike the movies I didn’t scream out for help. Unlike the movies I didn’t trip or stumble. Unlike the movies my prince wouldn’t rescue me. No I just ran a couple of steps before I felt its hot breath then its jaws clamped around my calf.

I hate the word “movies”. Film sounds so much classier.  Americanisms I feel are taking over the language. Not that i'm posh.

Any way to skip the dramatics. It hurt a lot. I think it would have quite happily sat there taking chunks out of me all day, as it happened Paulie and a couple of the junior mechanics threw stuff at it, chased it off. I escaped with would-be scars but my leg intact. A close call, doctors told me. That was repeated by the nurses, the porters, and the cleaning staff when I had to stay the night after the tetnus and rabies jabs for observation. Or as I call it come and stare at the freak. A close call. I was off work for a while resting. Healing. Couldn’t ride the bike. Work said they’d hold the job open for me. I never found out if they did or not. Probably not. It s been too long. It was almost a month after my “close call” when I saw Seth. He was hanging around a supermarket. His eyes lit up when he saw me. He hobbled over. He was dressed as shabby as ever. Worn jeans, bobbly jumper. Pale and peaky again. I remember thinking he didn’t have my excuse. How wrong I was. I expect you reader will have already guessed ahead. I expect you know what I suffer from and it isn’t what  the doctors are medicating me for.  I expect what I’m writing wont be read. I expect I’ll destroy it.

What I didnt expect was how friendly Seth was.  He’d always been pleasant. Always ready for a chat. But it seemed as though he had held back. I thought the garage sapped some of the life out of him he always had to be careful, act “cool” in front of the lads.  I guess he did. He was considerate about my leg, asked how it happened. I told him. He said “he remembered” I thought that meant that he’d heard. Someone else must have told him. It was in the papers. I hadn't made the front page. Some story about a dodgy politician beat me too it. Any way Seth said he was glad as it meant that we could spend a lot more time together. I went as red as the supermarkets logo.

Actually lets just pause a moment. Why didn’t I get I get the front page. All politicians are dodgy. It’s a regular occurrence. Girl mauled by beast- dog. That’s a story that you don’t hear everyday. Once in a blue moon, that is … 

The moon I became obsessed by it. I’ve always been romantic, loved sun sets. When we lived places where there was   no smog and not a cloud in the sky, I would always take the time to look at the stars. I can’t name consolations, I certainly don’t believe in horror scopes. I just liked to look at them. Twinkley. Now I look at the moon. I’m obsessed. I love it and hate it in turn but always drawn to it. I used to drag Seth out side to watch it. The moon.

As the week passed Seth and I spent more time together. Seth suggested I meet his parents. Mine were living in another part of the world I’d decided to be independent a long time ago. I wasn’t feeling up to it. I felt ill. Sort of squashed and stretched, hot and cold. Something was tugging at me. I said I was ill snapped at Seth. “I’ve caught what you’ve got” he wasn’t looking his best either. Seth wouldn’t take no for an answer. We got in his battered car and drove for hours.  I don't remember much of the journey other than I spent the time with my eyes closed, the window rolled down and the air conditioning on. We shouldn’t have been driving the state we were in.

We got there late afternoon. Famished. Really fancied fried chicken. His mum met us at the front door she looked how I felt. His parent’s house was nice. Comfy. A little odd. The house was three storeys in the old Victorian style. It was narrow, the rooms were narrow, the stairs were narrow and the halls were narrow. The rooms were decorated beautifully in Victorian colonial style. I would take these details in later. When I was more myself.

We made polite chit chat then excused ourselves to Seth's room. Too ill to think about dinner too and much too ill to think about driving back.  I wanted to lie down. I wanted to pace. I wanted to sink my teeth into a pillow and howl about how wretched I felt. Nothing in my opinion   beats a good cry into a pillow. Relieves so much tension/stress.  Except the moon, that calms me. Seth’s window was locked shut; a draught blew in from it. Seth locked the door. I lay down on the bed my head thumping. He took so long locking the door. How many locks were there?

 I honestly began to think he was locking and unlocking the same damn lock over and over again just to annoy me.

 Night fell. The moon rose. Seth and I left ourselves behind. For days we were locked up together, nights too of course. Caged animals. The desire to bite, the urgency to run, the need to howl. The city passed by the Victorian house never knowing what occupants it contained. There was a sink for water; food for just such emergencies was under the bed. It wasn’t well thought out. Animal’s dont think about tomorrow. We ate it all the first day. Snarling and growling loud “Mine! Mine! Mine!” Until it was gone then we went hungry. At least I wasn’t alone no matter how traumatic the experience was. I was always with Seth, sort of...

Soon the moon began to die. As I call it. We found ourselves hungry. Weak from hunger my jaw aching from where I’d tried to chew the leg of the bed off. Seth unlocked the door and slipped out. I pulled the blanket around me and sat on the floor thinking about the last couple of days. It was as though I was seeing the world through my nose. It still is. The first time was so; I still can’t find the right words, different I suppose... yet highly instructive Seth came back in warily. He was carrying a tray. I was so hungry. As we ate he’d glance at me, out of the corner of my eyes I caught him. His mum came in and was talking, looking at me nervously.  She looked a lot better. I wasn’t listening I just ate.

I remember telling Seth I wasn’t angry with him it was an adventure. His look was one of disbelief. I really meant it. I was with Seth and we’d always be together. I told you I was romantic. It’s true though we are of the same kind. We understand what the other goes through.

We spent several months at Seth’s parents. When the madness got to us we’d lock ourselves away “to protect others then oneself” Seth always muttered that as he turned the locks. We decided we should travel and we did. We visited remote places, cities, towns, we followed the road. Finding places hard to reach.

To get to the point we were enjoying life. All aspects of it including our moon days and nights. Until one fateful night. Well to put it in perspective Tuesday the twenty second of May, twenty past three in the afternoon.  A moon day. Seth and I argued. We snapped at each other before, when sometimes literally but this time he really got my hackles up, he said something stupid: “It’s a nice day for two friends to go for a walk in the woods” or something like that all I heard was the word “friends” I loved him. We’d been together   almost a year and he called me nothing but a “friend” I was angry. We yelled. Snapped, snarled, growled, shouted, screamed, and barked. Then I walked off on my own into the woods.

Seth is a good friend. You know only a true friend would tell you what they really think. I miss him you know. A dear friend.

Enough sentimental Jane Austen - Shakespearean mush. I lost my friend the only true person who could ever understand me and my monthly illness and I wandered into the woods. Got lost.  Got ill. Woke up in a ditch a couple of days later my clothes in tatters remembering little but the nights  where my ears were pressed lat against my skull howling at the moon. Wallowing triumphantly in my own self pitying despair.

 I was found about an hour later by a ranger’s patrol car. I was wrapped up in a blanket, taken to the station, given a cup of tea and ignored their questions. To me it was white noise. To be filed away to sort out later. I found out later the reason the patrol car was out where I was, was because a man was found dead. Savaged they think. Animal not man. I don’t remember doing it. I’m pretty sure I didn’t it was miles away from where I was found. Although I remember thinking whilst sipping my tea that I had a strange after taste in my mouth. I took a few panicked seconds to identify it, to my relief it was of rabbit. Atleast I’d eaten.

The sergeant and rangers were telling me I had a close call. Another one apparently. A close call I hadn’t met the animal. They did ask how I got the bruises. I distinctly remember thinking I should tell the truth but my moon day illness still had a hold on me. I think I barked at them before I said with a little more self awareness “me”.

I was given small pitying smiles, which I have come to know intimately during my stay here. I was interviewed in a quiet room. , the tape recorder whirring before being sent here to St Theresa’s. Being judged not of a sound mind. But a self harmer no danger to others. Except that’s not exactly true. I had to work really hard to get in to the isolation tank.  It makes me feel queasy to think what would have happened when the moon rose. I’d have lost myself; others would have lost their lives. I’m still not entirely comfortable about my other self. I still value   human life my friend Seth taught me that. Not all werewolves feel the same.

You know the worse thing about this place is you’re always being watched. You have no privacy. The doctors watch you; nurses watch you, cameras, specialists, security guards, other inmates, guests and complete strangers. I can feel someone watching me now. Tapping the glass. In some ways we are like fish we hate people tapping on the glass. I’m in half a mind to give the grinning moron a piece of my mind …

 Seth….