Chapter 3: Monster Girl University 1

Why am I doing this?

It was quite a staggering realization to come to, walking home in the snow. A few days before graduation, I’d finally asked an important question. What the hell am I doing?

I’d spent my whole life on my studies. While other people in my school were having fun, building relationships, and leading meaningful existences, I simply hadn’t. I felt like a ghost. I woke up, went to school, studied, came home, studied again, then went to bed, repeating the process. By doing this I became a straight A student, with a perfect GPA and several advanced courses under my belt, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d missed something far more important in the process.

This may seem like a minor problem to others, but this was a truly staggering realization to me. I’d wasted my high school years, the ones everybody told me were the best I had, on something that was truthfully meaningless.

I had no fond memories of my time in high school. I didn’t have any memories of them, actually. Standing there in the snow I couldn’t bring myself to remember any one part of my time in high school.

I had no memories, no friends, and no romantic experience. While the rest of my classmates were graduating with lives, and things to look forward to, what did I have?

With my grades I could get into any college I wanted, and likely not have to pay a dime my whole time there, but what was the point? If I went to college, would I just have 4 more years like this? Would I graduate and find myself in the same position, unable to recall even one memory from my entire time there?

What the hell was the point?

There was a bench next to me, so I sat down and continued this line of thought. Where was my life going?

I’d always thought that everything would work itself out as long as I did well in school, yet here I was, cold, miserable, and alone. If I kept going down this path, would my whole life be like this? Would I find myself on my deathbed, completely devoid of not just worthwhile memories, but any at all?

As I’m sitting there, thinking about simultaneously nothing and everything, a short woman walks out of an alleyway to my side, followed by a pale, lanky man. Both of them are underdressed for the weather, with the man in a loose white tank top and jeans, and the woman in tattered shorts and a black t-shirt. There’s one thing I’ve forgotten to mention, of course. The woman is an orc.

She’s a bit short for an orc; quite short, actually. The average orc is a bit above 6 feet tall, and she’s a bit above 5. She looks mostly human but has small tusks where her lower canines would be. She’s also quite pretty, with large, doe-like blue eyes complementing her otherwise sharp features. Her hair is a bright bubble-gum pink, and I can’t imagine why she chose to dye it that color. She’s silently walking, trying to ignore the pale man accosting her.

I wouldn’t say I’m an expert on such things, but the man appears to be tweaking like a motherfucker. His exposed arms are covered in scratch marks and he’s acting twitchy as all hell.

“You don’t just get to walk away, bitch!” He grabs her shoulder. From her side profile, I can see how wide her eyes are. She’s terrified.

Generally, I would try to ignore this. I live in the city, so keeping out of other people’s business is an ingrained response. I’m generally not trying to get shot, after all. Something’s different today, however. Maybe I’m just feeling a little suicidal.

“What the hell’s going on over there?”

The tweaker looks away from her for a moment, takes a quick scratch at his neck, then answers, “‘Fuck do you want?”

I stand up, “I asked what you’re doing! Are you stupid?”

The tweaker runs a hand through his greasy hair, completely forgetting about his original mark. “Hell’d’you just say to me? You tryin’ ta die?”

“You’re tweaking dude, step off it.”

“Fuck you! You don’t know anything!”

He starts to mumble to himself and walk toward me. There’s a flash of metal as a knife comes out of his waistband. Uh oh.

I’m not about to stick around to get stabbed. I start to run in the opposite direction, and he follows. I glance back for a second to make sure the orc-girl is safe, and she’s just standing there watching me get chased down by a methhead. I don’t think she picked up on what I’m doing.

I’m not gonna pretend like I’m the most agile person out there, but I can outrun an emaciated tweaker. I’m only running for a solid 3 seconds before he realizes the same thing. He lets out an angry shout… no. An angry howl.

I look back just in time to see the start of a horrifying transformation. In a few seconds, he’s ceased being human and has transformed into a mangy four-legged dog, a bit bigger than a pit bull. The clothing that he was wearing is tangled on his body, but he quickly finds his way out of it.

That dude’s not a tweaker; he’s a lycanthrope. Fuck.

The gap we had between us is quickly closing as the dog runs toward me.

It’s at this incredibly opportune moment that I find myself slipping on the ground beneath me. Ice had formed under the thin layer of snow, and I was scrabbling just to stay upright, forget any kind of forward movement. I look back just in time to see the dog in pouncing distance, ready to take a jump at me. The orc girl from before is watching in horror, seemingly frozen in place. 

Well, shit.

My mind is going at a million miles a minute as the dog’s paws leave the ground, entering into a pounce, its face locked into a drooling snarl. I’ve got a fraction of a second, yet nothing comes to mind. Am I going to die?

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The more I think, the more nothing I find. It’s like I’m burning out my mind in neutral. I’m revving it, and I’m getting nothing. The only output I’m receiving is nothing; An all-encompassing nothing.

My mind is completely blank when the air between the dog and I seems to solidify. It lets out a yelp as it smashes into something solid, bounces off, and hits the ground hard. The dog, pain evident in its body, climbs back to its feet and lets out a snarl, backing away from me.

It’s at that moment I hear a sneeze. I look up from the dog and see the orc girl is still standing there, not having moved an inch from when she was being accosted.

The dog notices this as well and takes off like a bolt toward her.

You have to be fucking kidding me. This whole thing was supposed to be to help you! The least you could have done was walked away!

Realizing the danger she all of a sudden finds herself in, she tries to run away but her movement is painfully slow, the dog will be on her in just a moment.

I have no idea what force just saved my life, but I can’t count on it again. I need to do something.

After regaining my footing, I see something in the snow. The lycan’s clothing. Right next to the clothes, a gleam. The knife.

I start running toward her, nabbing the dirty combat knife on the way, but I’m going to be too slow. I’m still 25~ish feet away, and the dog is already getting ready to pounce on her. She turns around just in time for the dog to pounce on her and chomp down on the arm she holds out to protect herself. She lets out a scream and falls to the ground.

It’s several seconds of tearing at her arm before I arrive. In its rage, the dog doesn’t even notice as I plunge the knife into his side.

Once it feels the knife, however, things change. It immediately lets go of her arm and jumps to the side. The stab wound drips deep red blood into the snow as the dog snarls at the orc and me. I brandish the knife and step between the girl and the dog. It takes one glance at me and the prone orc and makes a decision.

With a whimper, the dog runs into the alley both the orc and him came out of, away from me as quickly as his legs can carry him, leaving a trail of blood the whole way. I don’t know how things are for Lycans but for a pure human that’s a fatal wound he’s carrying. I don’t like that I may have just killed a man, but I couldn’t very well just leave things alone, could I?

The orc girl lets out a groan.

“Shit. Are you alright?” It’s a dumb question, and I knew that before it even left my lips.

She just groans again, so I crouch down and examine the bite on her arm. It’s not a pretty sight, the dog had a few seconds to tear at her arm before I got there. Bright red blood drips off of her arm into the snow.

“We’ve gotta get you to a hospital.”

It’s then that she says her first word to me, “No! ” She stands up in a panic, her arm dangling uselessly by her side.

“What?”

“No hospital!”

“What? But you—”

“No hospital!” 

“You have to get that treated. You’ll lose that whole arm if you don’t.”

“I can’t!”

She tries to walk away, but I stop her. I guess I’m the harasser now.

“I’m serious! Lycanthrope bites aren’t a joke!”

“Let me go! ”

“Do you want to lose your arm!?”

“I… no I don’t.” She appears to be on the verge of tears, “but I can’t go to a hospital!”

I pause for a moment before responding. I have a solution, but it’s not a very good one. “There’s a first aid kit in my apartment. At least let me use that.”

Her eyes are wide, I don’t think she expected that. She sheepishly looks at the ground before giving me a slight nod.

Looks like it’s time to play doctor.

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