Stella's Journal

October 27 2012

When my husband died the police counseler suggested I started keeping a journal. I am writing again because life has gotten way too wierd in ways I can't expect any other human to understand.

I guess other isn't the proper word. I am not exactly human anymore.

It all started because I was being stupid and juvenile. Volk, a stranger with a sexy European accent and a nice physique asked me out. I felt like I had just walked into a Danielle Steel novel. I should have known better. I am far to old to think that storybook romances happen, especially to me. So I got a primped up and went out one one date where he was a perfect gentleman interested in my work and family and everything seemed very pleasant.

Than he decided to make me a warewolf. Seriously. The night of the Homecoming bonfire there was a wolf attack. Students died. Two boys I know -- Henry, one of my ATO kids, and Werner, one of the kids that was in the scouts with my son have been afflicted with warewolf-ism . . . The movies always say the warewolf curse. We are talking full on shape shifting into a wolf man, super strength, moody, werewolves out of spooky stories. And I am one too. I have never felt such anger and desperation. I've never been this out of control. I literally lost control at work and threatened the ATO board. I chased and attacked one of my boys because I knew he was withholding information. I hear and smell things like never before, even intimate things like lust and fear. I fear what I will do next.

Tonight a pretty girl came up to me and told me that Volk asked for me to be attacked. I feel violated on every level. It is so much worse than anything I could have imagined. Nothing else turns you into a dangerous monster.

I am a monster. I want to die. It seems like the only rational solution. I should be put down. I'm basically a rabid dog. But it also seems like such a waste. I don't want to leave my son an orphan. I also like to think that I am helping these kids and doing some good in this world. I don't know what to do.