The young man rolled his eyes again, "Come on, Officer, how many times I gotta tell you the same friggin' story?"

"Just until I get to the truth, son," the officer replied, taking another sip of cold coffee.

The young man sighed and shifted in his chair, the hand-cuffs clattered.

The officer sighed."Tell me again, from the beginning."

"My story's not going to change, just because you want it to," the young man shrugged. "The bottom line is that I have a fuckin' werewolf in my bedroom closet and I need your God-damned help. I don't know how many different ways I can tell you that."

"Okay, let's just get down to earth and understand each other, shall we?" The officer replied, staring the punk down. "Until the results of your drug-tests come back, you and me... Well, we just ain't going anywhere. The way I see it, you just busted my Deputy's nose and where I come from, well, that means that I can keep you here as long as I like. Are you gettin' my drift here, Skippy?"

"With all due respect, Officer; it's not what you think."

The officer nodded; his eyes unresisting.

"I came here tonight for help, okay? That deputy of yours got all uppity and shit with me... Then, I dunno, it just got way outta hand. But, I swear..."

"Why don't you tell me, again, what brought you here?" The officer interrupted him. "Then we'll see just how serious your problem is gonna be."

"Again, huh?... Holy crap... yeah, alright."

Unshaven, disheveled and frustrated, the young man turned his gaze towards the bank of fluorescent lights whining above him as he scratched at his stubbly chin. He took a deep breath and started again.

"For the fifth time... I've been away at college for two years and I flew back here for the winter break, to visit my family, like I said. Like all my friends do."

"Have you had any trouble at school?" The officer asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"Of course not, Jeez... Look, I'm in pre-med and working my ass off. You can ask any of my friends or ask my folks."

"Trust me, we will," the officer chuffed.

"Anyway, when I got to the house, I found out that my folks hadn't come back from their vacation yet. They left a message on the machine and you can check it, if you don't believe me. So, I had the house all to myself for at least a few days, near as I could tell."

The officer nodded.

"Then, like I told you, the doorbell rang," the young man grumbled. He was quickly tiring of the officer's disapproving stare.

"And what were you doing at the time?"

"I had opened a beer and started washing some clothes."

"And how many beers did you have?"

"You're missing the point, officer. Look, I walked into the kitchen and opened my first beer... Then I heard the doorbell and when I answered it, there she was."

"Now, this woman, had you ever met this woman before? Maybe at a party or something?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Kiss my ass... Of course I'm sure," the young man barked; his brown eyes dark and angry.

The overhead fluorescent lights flickered and hissed again, annoying them both.

The officer sighed as he jotted-down the young man's answers on a pocket-sized note pad. There was something about this scruffy teen that made him nervous; the kid was just downright twitchy.

His stomach growling, the officer wished that the station's interrogation room was not so small and stuffy. He wished for a cheeseburger and a weekend of fishing. He wished that he wasn't listening to this young man, who appeared to be so young that his balls hadn't even dropped yet. But the officer knew that, thanks to this pimple-faced-nut-bag, he'd have a great tale to tell at the bar tomorrow night.

"Were there any other people, maybe outside, at the time that you opened the front door?" the officer asked, determined to keep the amusement from his voice.

"No, sir."

"Can you describe this woman for me?"

"When I answered the door, Molly... Well, she was beautiful, like I said. But at the same time she had blood all over her and really looked like she had been through the ringer."

"Molly, you say?" the officer chuffed. "And you know her name how?" "She told me later... That's not important, see, but at the time, she just passed out on my porch so I grabbed her."

"You grabbed her?"

"Yeah, she fainted, or something, so I grabbed her. The girl just collapsed in front of me. What the hell was I supposed to do? I was thinking that maybe she'd had a car accident or she had been through some fucked-up domestic thing."

"And, tell me again, why didn't you call 911?" the officer asked. "Well, it was freezing outside, so I brought her in the house and put her on the couch. And before I could grab the phone, she woke up. She got really upset and begged me not to call the police."

"And you were more than happy to help, am I right?" the officer sneered.

"And, what would you do if a beautiful, green-eyed blond fell into your arms?"

"Well," the officer stammered.

"Exactly," the young man nodded. "I didn't know what else to do." The fluorescent lights whined.

For no apparent reason, the officer suddenly felt strange and light-headed. Too long in the box, he decided, shaking it off.

"And then, I went and got Molly a wet towel and helped her clean herself up. The dirt or blood, or whatever it was, came off real easy-like... But it was weird; her skin was hot to the touch, like she had a fever, or something."

"I have to ask you again, if a girl is injured, or in some kind of trouble, why didn't you call 911?"

"She seemed fine."

"This shows what a rocket-scientist you are, now doesn't it? Alright, what happened next?" The officer asked as he flipped his note-book shut.

"Molly said that she had been at a party and she had done one too many shooters. I didn't have any reason not to believe her."

"And did this "Molly" person say where all the blood had come from?" "She swore that it wasn't blood... I guess I wanted to believe her. I mean, she was so pretty, and she seemed so drunk."

"So you let her sleep there... on your couch?" the officer coolly asked. "Yeah. I didn't see the harm in it."

"Are you sure the two of you didn't have sex? Maybe, just a little quickie?" the officer smirked.

"No, of course not. I told you, it seemed like she was drunk."

"So, then you went to bed?"

"Yeah, believe it or not... You know, I'm gettin' real tired of you looking at me that way," the young man growled.

"I understand," the officer replied, trying to keep his obvious disbelief in-check. "This is all just procedure, son. Go on."

"Alright... Well, when I came downstairs, the next morning, it was like I dreamed the whole thing. But, I'm telling you, when I walked in the living room... Man, I almost lost it when I saw all the blood."

"Who's blood?"

"Not who's blood, what's blood. My folks have all this super-fancy furniture and shit, right? Well, that morning, everything was covered in blood. I mean, I'm going to med-school, but the sight of that blood-bath in the living room... I'd never seen anything like that... There was blood; guts... fur...even bones. And Molly was sitting right in the middle of it."

"And what was this Molly doing?"

"Like I told you before, she was eating our cat."

The officer cringed; wishing again that this was not happening on his shift.

"Eating? What do you mean by 'eating'?" The officer asked, dreading hearing the same answer that he had heard so many times tonight.

"'Eating', as in covered in A-1 and I haven't-had-a-bite-in-days-eating. This chick was devouring our family pet, okay? What do you want me to say? And don't you dare fucking ask why I didn't call 911... It wasn't an option. I'm telling you, I couldn't move when I saw that."

"Why?"

"I don't know! I don't know! Maybe I was just too scared. It felt like she was some kind of dangerous animal, but, it was her eyes that really freaked me out, man... Her eyes... They flashed like reflections... Like weird mirrors."

"And you," the officer suddenly heard himself stutter, "You didn't partake in this meal?"

"No, like I told you... For Christ's-sake, eat a cat? I ain't crazy... And quit friggin' looking at me like that."

"Okay, take it easy... You keep saying that this 'Molly' is a werewolf. Now you have to understand how crazy that sounds, son. There is no such thing as werewolves, you got me? So, I have to ask; where do you get the idea that this woman is a werewolf and not just some nut-job that tears up animals for kicks?"

"I dunno, like I said... It was her eyes; they just weren't normal. Her pupils were all green and weird. They weren't natural, like she was wearing some kind of new contact lenses and she had these crooked long fingers and..."

"Alright, son, have you ever considered that person wasn't a woman?"

The young man sighed, "That's what I've been trying to tell you all night; Molly's a werewolf, dammit. I don't have some hairy, psycho-transvestite locked in my closet, so you can just stop right there, okay?"

"I am just covering all the bases, son. Now, you said you caught her 'devouring the cat', as you said. What happened then?

"Well, then suddenly she acted like she was ashamed about the cat and she kept apologizing and shit."

"Really?" the officer asked.

"Yeah, Molly like totally freaked-out... She started screaming and flailing around... Scrubbing the carpet and saying that she was sorry about the cat... Saying that she couldn't help herself."

"Couldn't help it, how?" the officer smirked; his disbelieving gaze un-checked. "Was this 'Molly' on drugs? Perhaps cocaine or PCP?"

"No, Officer, it's not that... I think I'd know if it was drugs, believe me, I'm in college. I've seen just about everything."

"But, your new girlfriend was eating your family pet, right? Didn't you think it was odd?"

"Yeah, of course," the young man shrugged. "But, at the time, it seemed like it was happening to somebody else; like it wasn't real."

"After this person, Molly, ate the cat, what did she do next?"

"You keep acting like I'm making this shit up," the young man sighed as the lights whined and sputtered overhead.

"Don't take this personally," the officer replied, increasingly more uncomfortable as an oily sweat trickled down his back. "You have to remember that this is a small town and we don't hear claims like this everyday."

"Yeah, I know... Okay, what happened next...? Let me see... Well, that's when Molly started begging me to lock her up for two days."

"Why for two days?" the officer coolly asked.

"She said that in two days that it would all be over."

The fluorescent lights whined.

"What would be over in two days?"

"Believe me, I asked her the same thing... But her eyes were so green... I don't know, okay? I just couldn't argue with her. I just did what she asked and I put her in my closet."

"Why the closet?" the officer mumbled, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Because it had a lock on the knob, I guess, I don't know! Shit, I couldn't think of any place else!"

"Okay," the officer started, "Explain it to me one more time; why a blood-soaked, blood-crazed girl--who needs 911, more than anyone I've ever heard of-- needs to be locked in a closet?"

The young man sighed; he had lost patience for this line of questioning some hours ago. The overhead florescent lights whined and fluttered. The lights were almost tangible now; like another character in the room.

"I locked her in there because she asked me to," the young man replied.

"Let's just say, for a minute, that you are telling the truth, okay?" the officer nodded, "Why, on God's green earth, did it take you the better part of a month to come into the police station to report this?"

"Like I keep telling you," the young man fumed, "Molly's been locked in there for weeks, and I didn't know where else to go."

"So, are you telling me that this girl's been locked in your closet for almost a month?"

"That's what I said," the young man nodded, "And tonight, I heard her howling, so I ran."

"Howling? Okay, I'll be needing a written statement from you before we can do anything, alright?" The officer stuttered, feeling nervous and not understanding why he was so uncomfortable around this boy.

The overhead lights flickered again and, to the officer, the small interrogation room suddenly felt as if it were closing in on him. Grabbing his note-pad and rising to leave the room, the officer was determined to find out what the problem was with the lights. As he turned to speak to the young man, the boy peered up at him, through his tousle of greasy hair.

The strobe of fluorescent lights made the young man's eyes flash, if just for a second.

Had the boy just giggled at him? he wondered as he reached for the doorknob; fighting the sudden and overwhelming urge to run.

"Please, sir... don't go just yet," the young man hissed, grinning up at him as his eyes turned to fluid green pools. "Because, you see, suddenly I don't feel so well..."