“I don’t remember killing anyone but I’ve had dreams of the killings,” I explained. The room was quiet for a moment, spiking my already jumpy nerves. Squeezing my hands tighter, I focused on the pain of my nails digging into my skin.
“What happens in these dreams?” Yet another man asked. It’d be really nice if I could put a face with the voice, but I kept my eyes down.
“I’m the wolf,” I told them. “I see everything from its perspective and its thoughts are the ones that I hear.”
“That’s very…” one of the men started.
“Bizarre, it’s bizarre,” another one finished.