Werewolf Bodyguard

Scarred

So, my friend has been repeatedly punching me in the shoulder because she is impatient for me to post another chapter to this story. Because she wouldn't leave me alone - meaning I could not concentrate - it is probably not very good. I don't think so at least. Here it is anyway.

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~Charlie~

I’m still completely pissed off at my father. I mean, what the fuck? He wants me to be protected by a lycan? Really? His little monologue had me cringing as I remembered it. It was practically burned into my brain. The words were causing me physical pain at the moment.

Last night, it had taken me hours to fall asleep. Even though I would rather not admit it, it scared me to have a lycan under my roof. I’ve heard stories since I was a little girl about how they maul people and cause gruesome deaths and rape and pillage and perform any other crime I’d ever heard of. And my father felt it was safe for this one to be near me?

The bite mark on my shoulder throbbed.

I rubbed the wound in hopes that it will stop hurting. No such luck.

As I crawled out of bed, I made sure that I’d sufficiently covered everything so that he wouldn’t get any ideas. He was massive in height and had enough muscle mass to…well, I don’t want to go there. I had never understood why they hadn’t muscled their way to the top of the hierarchy, though I was glad they hadn’t. I stand up to my full height and make myself think of something else. Like the fact that we were getting to Romeo and Juliet today in Lit class.

I walked to the bathroom door. I was reciting the lines in my head, which was probably why I didn’t notice the fact that the bathroom was occupied. I pushed open the door and was met by a surprising sight. It was of Kent, bent over the sink, shaving away his morning stubble in nothing but a pair of faded gray jeans. I know I stood there for a minute, completely confused and wondering what to do as my eyes traced a plethora of scars all over his upper body.

“Um…..” he started, but seemed unable to continue.

“I’ll just….yeah.” I backed out the door and closed it before running down the short hallway to the living room and sitting on the couch. I didn’t know what to do. Do I apologize when he comes out; do I shrug it off as nothing? Do I mention the scars? The curiosity was burning for me to ask him, to find out why he had so many.

I heard the door open a few minutes later, and Kent walked out. My eyes went back over the lines etched into his skin and suddenly I couldn’t help myself.

“Where did you get them?” He didn’t pretend not to know what I was talking about.

“It depends on which ones you’re talking about,” he replied as he leaned against the wall. “Some of them are from my ‘keepers’, others are for my supposed rank, a couple were accidental.”

“Which ones are which?”

I don’t know why he was being civil and telling me these things, but I was going to take advantage of it.

He pointed to his back where the scars seemed in disarray and slightly crosshatched. “These are from the keepers who thought torture makes the man, or wolf. Depends on how you see it.” Fingers traced several thick lines that started at the top of both his arms and came a few inches towards his elbows. “These are for my ‘rank’. That’s what they say, but it was really a fake reason to give you more reminders about why we are the lowest to everybody.”

“What do you mean?”

“We accept pain, because it is second nature to us. We are in torturous pain every time we transform, so we can stand a lot of it. Apparently, that is not right. The peoples your father govern think that pain is something only received by low life’s, such as me.”

He went on, pointing to his chest. “These were purely accidental. While they tortured us, they told us not to move. But when they inflict so much pain it is hard to breathe, well….you move. And in doing that, you somehow get these. I’m not sure how, I was not paying attention at the time.”

He pushed away from his perch and stood tall, just a mere few inches from the ceiling. I was about to open my mouth to ask another question. He raised a hand.

“No more questions.” He turned from me. I watched him go with narrowed eyes. What an ass. Just when I thought I wasn’t going to feel like killing him every second of the day, he says something like that.

I walk to the bathroom and start my day, fuming over my growing irritation. I predict that I will start every day like this from now on, just because he brings out that reaction from me just being in his presence.

I guess the only time I won’t want to hurt him will be when he’s answering my questions. I don’t know why, but lycans are actually interesting creatures. I had looked some stuff up online last night. Not to mention I read Twilight. I didn’t particularly like it, too much wrong information about vampires, but her werewolf stuff could be right on the money for all I know.

Lycan hierarchy. That’s definitely what he will be explaining next.

I think I’m gonna start a list to make sure I ask him everything I want to find out since he’s a primary source for this stuff.

I made my thoughts return to Romeo and Juliet. We were finally going to start it and I was so excited. It’s one of my favorite plays. My dad knew Shakespeare when he was in Europe around that time. He always went to his plays and stuff. I wish I had been born then. That would have been fun.

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Yes, I know. It is especially shitty today. But my arm is bruised, so I'm just happy it's up and she stopped hurting me. I love her, but sometimes she can be a pain in my ass. Bye now :^)