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Sam wheeled around, his heart wanting to hammer himself to death. What was that that furry thing that brushed across his leg?

The wolves were suddenly all around him again in his head.

“No! I thought we were friends! Stop!”  He entreated the wolf, but it turned on him savagely, a strange new red fire in its eyes.

Sam turned, spilled his hot chocolate, and slipped to the floor, regaining vision in time to see a squirrel scampering away. He turned red. People were looking at him. Had everyone just heard him shouting? Probably. His hot chocolate was spilt, and suddenly he knew he had to leave. Now.  He groped at the counter, but seeing had backed out again. He couldn’t get up. His leg hurt. Sam rolled over and pulled himself to a crawling position. He slowly crawled forward, his hurt leg dragging behind him. Which way was the door?

His skull cracked into contact with the counter, and he collapsed, putting his hand to his head.

Why had he come here? For relief. Yah, well he sure had found it, he thought sarcastically. This wasn’t setting him up right for tonight.

Why wouldn’t someone help him? Normal humans were supposed to be kind and stuff like that. Well, why wouldn’t someone help him?

“I need help,” he called hoarsely. “Someone help me!”

Laughter.

“Please.”