Hard Choices

[Hyacinth]

“Is that how you and my mother decided to keep me safe,” my body grows rigid as my tone grows cold. Sensing my change he retracts his hand. “Did you block my wolf?”

“Yes,” he admits, not denying that he was responsible. “It was what your mother wanted. She knew there were witches who would hunt you as soon as they saw you had inherited the full Monrovia gift. You were only 3 when you started to show signs. We waited until you were 5 to give you the first dose.”

“First dose?” My anger is starting to boil over as bile threatens to rise from my tightly-clenched gut. “How many times did you do this to me?’

“Only twice,” he confesses. “The treatment lasts 10 years and is designed to wear off in time for you to develop your wolf at an age where your body is better able to control the strength of your abilities. Your mother had the same procedure done herself. She was one of our test subjects at the institute.”

I remember the file I had found in my office, the one that showed