Gabriel settled onto the edge of his bed, elbows braced on his knees, still looking at me like he was trying to reconcile the human he’d known with the creature standing in front of him.
“So…” he said slowly, “why would anyone want to beat this out of you?”
I stayed standing for a moment, the weight of his question hanging heavy in the air. Then I shifted back, letting the fur retreat, the claws draw in, until I was just me again. It felt colder somehow, even though the room hadn’t changed.
“Because it scared them,” I said simply. “And scared people… they try to control what they don’t understand.”
Gabriel frowned. “Your parents?”
“Mostly them,” I said, pacing a slow line along the side of the room. “They decided I was ‘wrong’ before I was old enough to know what that meant. Said I was dangerous. Said I needed help.” My voice hardened on that last word.
He was quiet, watching me.
“They sent me to a place,” I continued. “Not some summer camp with therapy dogs and arts and crafts. This was locks and straps and needles. Doctors who never looked you in the eye. People who spoke about you like you weren’t in the room. Or like you weren’t… human.”
Gabriel’s jaw worked, but he didn’t interrupt.
“I learned quick that if I let anything slip — anything — they’d make it worse. Sedate me. Isolate me. Call it treatment while they chipped away at me until there was nothing left but what they wanted to see.”
I stopped pacing, meeting his eyes again. “I don’t give them that satisfaction anymore. I’ve kept it buried. Hidden. I don’t even let myself…” I trailed off, realizing my fists had curled again.
“…until now,” he finished for me.
I nodded once. “Until now.”
Gabriel leaned back, the mattress creaking under his weight. “I don’t know how anyone could look at you and see something broken. But I guess I should say thank you.”
“For what?”
“For trusting me enough to show me,” he said. “For letting me in.”
That one landed deeper than I expected, enough that I had to look away for a beat. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
He smiled faintly. “Not a chance.”
From the hallway, a floorboard creaked — distant this time. Probably Nathan keeping his distance. Gabriel’s eyes flicked toward the door, then back to me, and for the first time, I realized the fear wasn’t mine anymore.