Ravished by the Beasts

"Miss Isobelle Harding," our principal, Mr. Saunders, called me to the stage.

Shaking with adrenaline and sweating like a bitch in heat, I ascended the steps with the sound of applause ringing in my ears. All my focus went into not tripping in my graduation gown and looking like a complete dickhead in front of all these people. The pressure of having a hundred pairs of eyes following me across the stage scorched my face with embarrassment. I wasn't exactly an outgoing person and despised being the center of attention. Perspiration formed across my upper lip like a sweaty mustache, making me feel sticky and gross.

Why did this gown have to be made from black polyester?

In temperatures of eighty-six degrees, the heavy material was suffocating. By the time I had walked across the stage floor, I was a flustered mess. As subtle as I could muster, I wiped my damp palms against my gown before accepting the diploma. The principal grasped my clammy hand as we exchanged an awkward handshake. I couldn't get away quick enough, scampering off down the opposite steps to where my best friend, Joanne Prichard, was waiting for me.

A beaming smile spread wide across her face. "We did it!" she squealed jubilantly, bouncing on her heels.

"I know," I gushed, relieved that the torture was finally over. "Thank fuck for that. No more essays. No more exams. We’re fully-fledged adults. Productive members of society," I expressed, reminiscent of all the caffeine-infused nights that we had endured over the last few years.

“Soon-to-be taxpayers you mean,” Joanne replied, bursting my bubble. 

My heart dropped. “Oh, yeah. And repaying the student loans.” The thought was daunting. 

"Fuck the loans. I can't believe you're going away tomorrow. I'm gutted I can't come with you," Joanne grumbled, pouting her lips to display her envy. “You’re such a lucky bitch.”

It was true. I was lucky to have been chosen out of all the other candidates. The university had secured a grant for one person to travel abroad to study a rare species of Canis lupus, more commonly known as wolves. An unknown species was found in the faraway state of Whitehaven, and I had been chosen to research them. All the necessary equipment, also food and lodging, would be provided. I didn’t have to worry about anything. When the information pack came through the mail, I obsessively scoured through it to find out anything I could about the place, the culture, and whether I’d be staying in the wilderness or a town with lots of people. I decided to run a Google search to see if it would bring up a street view, but each time I tried, the search engine didn’t recognize the location. Whitehaven was so remote, there weren't even any news articles available. It’s like it didn’t exist.

"I know . . . I've never been as far as Spain before," I replied. "I've always wanted to go to America. Now my dream is becoming a reality." I clapped my hands with excitement, feeling proud of myself.

My mum was concerned about me traveling alone, which didn't ease my anxiety. As much as I craved my independence, I was nervous about taking this giant leap and it surprised me when my professor mentioned I would be going alone. It would have been nice to have a companion. Joanne was visibly disappointed. Not that she wasn’t happy for me, but because this would be the longest time we would ever spend apart.

"There you are, girls," Dad chimed as he rushed towards us.

My mother was hot on his heels, as were Joanne's parents. They were all bleary-eyed after shedding proud tears of joy during the ceremony.

"Let's get a decent photo of you to commemorate this occasion," Joanne's dad, Gordon, urged.

"Just the girls first, then we'll do one with the mums, then the dads, and then finish with a group photo," Gordon directed, organizing things.

I posed beside Joanne, both giving our best smiles before our mothers ambushed us.

After taking lots of photos, Gordon passed around the camera, allowing us all to view our pictures on the digital screen. My smile faltered as I witnessed the unfiltered reality of a bog-standard image.

Where the hell was a Snapchat filter when you needed one?

"This is one of the proudest moments of my life," my dad, Arron, gushed with pride. "The other times were marrying you, Fiona, and of course, when you were born," he said, as he pinched my flushed cheek.

I cringed, baring my teeth.

"Shall we go to The Smoke House for dinner?" I suggested.

That was mine and Joanna's favorite restaurant, and I wanted us to enjoy one last meal together before I leave for the summer. I would be gone for twelve weeks. That would mean three long months of missing everybody. I wasn't going to hold my breath that they would have sufficient WIFI out in the sticks. It would be just my luck to be given a carrier pigeon to send messages back and forth.

"We've never been there, have we, Gordon?" Joanne's mum, Norah asked.

Gordon pressed his lips together as he thought. "Isn't that the one that serves cowboy food?"

"That's the one," Joanne replied, rolling her eyes. "Honestly, Dad. Cowboy food." She chortled.