The December full moon had just ended. It was my first full moon after that fateful night. I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. The first transformation had been quite painful, and I was having trouble recovering. I hadn't done much during that full moon; I'd lain down in a corner, as isolated as possible. I know that when you're a werewolf, you lose your human consciousness, and I don't know what came over me, but I bit myself. So here I was, the morning of the first full moon, lying in a bed in the infirmary, wondering what I'd been thinking when I bit myself. They had bandaged my right arm. I hoped it would heal quickly because it was with that hand that I wrote, and if I missed a lot more classes, I wouldn't be able to cope. I turned over in bed to rest, but my mind didn't want to sleep. He kept reliving that night when my life was turned upside down. My heart started beating faster, tears welled up in my eyes, and a few seconds later, they were streaming down my cheeks. I'll never get used to this life.
I spent most of my time alone, and if a malicious person found out I was a werewolf and told everyone, I would find myself even more alone.
