Stories and Other Random Things

:1: The Wolf Curse

I'm still setting up how this is going to go, so there's not much going on in this chp.

[Chapter One]

Blood drips off my hands, splattering on the hardwood floor almost in slow motion. My stomach churns at the thought of where it came from, I gag at the thought of wanting more. Isn't it enough that he's dead now? I have to want more of what I know I'll only end up puking all over the back of my car? He's dead now, these hungers should stop now that his heart has, that's what Dad said would happen if I ever lost control. He said that the only temptation is the sound of the heart beating, of the blood rushing through his veins, he said the cravings would end as soon as the heart stopped beating. So why do I find myself only wanting more?

I don't look at his limp, mangled body lying on the floor, I can't, as I move towards the bathroom. If I look at him I'm going to lose this battle going on inside me, I'll only end up hating myself more if I look at his dead body. I promised I wouldn't hurt him, not only myself but the one person that knows exactly what I am, I swore on my parents' grave that I'd never harm a hair on his head. And now he's dead, because I lost control. I should have known better than to come out tonight, I should have heeded the warning in my father's notes, but I'd been so bored and he'd already made me promise to come over tonight. I knew better than to leave the house tonight, I should have just listened.

When I look up at myself in the mirror my eyes are no longer silver, but the natural brown of my eyes is too bright, too excited, too hungry to make me feel any better. Why hadn't I just listened to my father's notes and locked myself in the basement? None of this would have happened if I had stayed home. Chase would be upset, hurt that I stood him up, but at least he'd still be alive for me to apologize to. He wouldn't be lying on his living room floor dead, if only I had stayed home.

“I'm so sorry,” Who I'm whispering the words to I don't know. I'd made promises to both my parents before they died that I wouldn't put myself in a situation where I would be tempted to lose control and I broke that promise. From the day I met Chase the cravings were worse than ever, but I couldn't let him go. He was mine from the day we met and he ended up paying the price for my foolishness. I always knew I'd end up losing control when I was near him, but I had never once thought that it would be this bad.

I figured I'd end up scaring him away from me, that he'd see what kind of animal I am and never want to see me again. It never occurred to me that I could end up losing control so severely, that I'd end up killing him. I should have realized as soon as I'd walked in the door that coming here was a mistake, I should have recognized the ache in the pit of my stomach for what it was instead of ignoring it. I should have listened to the subtle warnings my body was giving me.

But no, I had known that after tomorrow I wouldn't be able to see him as much and I'd been greedy. I'd wanted to spend as much as time with him as possible before I had to start ignoring him. It would have been too dangerous to be around him too much after tomorrow and I had been too selfish to listen to the little voice in my head that had told me to stay away from him tonight as well. I was too selfish to care about the changes I knew were coming and look where it got me.

“What am I going to do now?” I couldn't just leave his body there, no matter how much I knew I should just leave, I couldn't. And I didn't know what to do, calling the police would be the simplest solution, but I couldn't embarrass what little family I have left that way. So where did that leave me? Burying his body myself would be too much for my shattered control to handle. I can't just leave him like this, though, its cruel and the guilt is already eating at me, there's no need to make it worse.

Walking out of the bathroom I hold my breath as I step over his body, ignoring the sickly feeling of hunger that settles in my stomach. Oh god, why couldn't I have just stayed home? If I had stayed home I wouldn't have to do this. Picking up the phone I glance over my shoulder as I dial the number, swallowing back the bile that rises in my throat, praying that no one picks up the phone.