Can't Tame Me

He suddenly sits down in front of me, lowering his head a little more to get level with my eyes. Her steel blue irises make me miss several heartbeats. I feel like I could stay like this for hours. I have the hairs that are straightening.

Without letting go of my gaze, he walks a little further before laying his head on my thighs with a sigh of exhaustion. As delicately as possible, I reach my hand towards his muzzle so that he feels it, then I slide it over his skull. He softened at my touch before lying on his side, totally relaxed as he looked truly exhausted.

I vaguely wonder what breed of dog it is. I know some Tibetan Mastiffs are really huge. I know more than one man in New York who hopes to cross with them and Bullmastiffs to succeed in having a large, impressive fighting dog. I may have one of his specimens in my hands.

In any case, wherever he comes from, he is really in a bad state!

I don't want to leave it like that, but I wonder what leeway I have. It doesn't have a format that allows me to carry it under my arm.

I decide to give it a shot, slowly getting up as he looks at me. With a paw as big as my arm, he tries to hold me to the ground, but he lacks strength. I pull away easily, stepping back to pull him in, hoping I can get him home to safety.

"Come on, my little wolf…"

I hold out my hand so that he can feel it; seeing that he stretches his neck as expected and gets up, I get my can and my empty bag, then I shift a little further back. At first he hesitates, then he advances slowly with a difficult gait. Leaving the park, he limps at my height, leaning against me so as not to waver.

His back is almost below my shoulder, and he's heavy, but I end up bringing him home.

Once down, it crashes to the ground, taking up all the space left after my mattress. I have to step over it to move around. He remains surprisingly calm and stoic. Which means that he has already lived in a house, despite his extraordinary size.

I shrug my shoulders; his story doesn't matter to me for the moment; he must first be treated. I squat next to him, showing him my hands so that he can feel the material that I went to look for to take care of his wounds. After a few sniffles, he rests his head on the ground, reassured, so I begin to work calmly. The wounds are fortunately not deep, but it looks like he fought against a bear... Or maybe just against a dog like him...

Once all his lacerations have been cleaned, I give him food again. He doesn't seem to have much of an appetite, so I thaw my leftover cheese pasta, to which I add gravy. It's not very balanced, but it really needs energy.

When he finally finishes swallowing the last noodle, it's four in the morning. With a sigh, I throw myself on my mattress, rolling myself into a ball to recover as much as possible during the last hour of sleep I have left.

A few minutes later, when the alarm clock rings, I growl, banging on it to silence it. As I try to get up, I feel my wolf around me as it has embedded itself on my mattress. His head weighs heavily on my waist as his warm body immobilizes my legs. I give him a small caress between the two eyes while he yawns. Then as I move, he shifts, letting me get up. I then go to the bathroom.

The reflection is not flattering: my emerald green eyes are surrounded by circles worthy of a panda, while I am terrifyingly pale. Hoping to give myself human form, I vigorously brush my brown mane in order to tie it in a high ponytail, and then I quickly go to the shower. I put on black jeans and a gray t-shirt before scampering towards the front door.

My wolf is standing, staring at me curiously. I see that his wounds have closed surprisingly well since a while ago; even his hair seems less dull. Maybe he just needed to eat. I'm a little hesitant to leave him at home, but he sticks his muzzle under my arm. I feel that he wants to go out, and then I don't want him to relieve himself here.

So I open the door wide for him, watching him cross it with a more alert step than the day before. Going down the stairs, he wanders off like a young puppy with his nose in the wind. It's rather pleasant to see him go so well so quickly; moreover, he is not risking much at this hour. I watch him disappear around the corner as the bus arrives. I climb inside, reassured about his condition. Maybe I'll see him again tonight, or maybe he'll have found another place to sleep. I don't always see my regulars, but to avoid having the bumblebee, I tell myself that it's because they found a good place to live and not because someone ran over them.

I sit on the bench as the bus restarts. Suddenly, a howl rings out that breaks my eardrums and my heart. The driver also heard it, but instead of stopping as I desperately asked him, he accelerated. I'm stuck in my seat.

I try to look through the window to see what happened; however, we have already turned the corner. Running ahead despite the rolling of the road, I again ask to stop the bus; however, the driver still doesn't listen to me. He's too terrified for that.

I watch the streets go by, my heart sinking. I may do well to get off at the next stop to return to my wolf. Was it hit by a car? There was no traffic on the road, though!

I'm still standing, clinging to the bus railing when my phone rings. I look at the screen while my heart crashes to the floor, I want to swing the device against the glass on my left. Yet I pick up because I know I have no choice. The voice of my father-in-law, Carlos, sounded on the other end of the line.

"You have money?"

"Yes…"

"Tonight, 9 p.m. at your house! Be on time!"

He hangs up. That filthy bastard!

I hate this man from the bottom of my heart. He's the one I'm trying to run away from with all my might: I'm not even sure that Canada is far enough from him. He turned my mother into a stripper before turning her into a call girl. His only dream is to do the same with me. He has made every day of my life a hell of fear and pain since my earliest childhood.

He must gather around him all the dregs of society, which feed on everything that the city can count as illegal and atrocious. All I can do to get him to leave me alone is give him the money he asks for raising me since I was.

I could hit him and break his teeth: he's barely taller than me and paunchy. Except no one says no to Carlos. I wouldn't have time to give him the slightest blow before his henchmen would kill me. I already tried to run away; unfortunately, it was the police who brought me back to him. It took me a good month to walk again after he beat me up.

I sit with my head down, trembling; I still fear encounters with this man. My wolf will have to fend for himself; I absolutely have to keep raising money, or he will end up having my skin.

I can hardly control my tears of rage, but I keep in mind that one day I will be free!