The Werewolf [COMPLETE]

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I opened my eyes.

And I felt awake, fully awake. I didn't stretch my tired arms and legs. I didn't even yawn. I frowned, sitting up on my elbows. My gaze drifted around my bedroom, searching or pretending to search for hints. My eyes glanced over my alarm clock, my chair, my desk, and stopped, and backed up.

6:02 A.M.

I sighed. Too early. My head crashed on the pillow. I tried to close my eyes, maybe get an hour more of sleep, or half an hour, but I ended up entranced by my open window and its regular beating against the old wooden frame. The corners of the windowpane were framing with ice the glass and the sight behind the glass. The emerald firs were covered in snow, and the forest just a few feet from my house was wearing its winter coat of whiteness. The sun was just rising over the horizon, and its rays seeped through the tree trunks, warming the plants, and the grass, and the earth, but not the air, I could feel the wind blowing its coldness into the Village and into my room, but I ignored it out of habit.

I turned away from the window and rested on my back, gazing at the ceiling. I stayed still, perfectly still, not making a move or a sound, just looking. Not a single thought crossed my mind as my eyes stared the white wall over my head, staring, staring, star‒‒

The sharp smash of my window banging shut drew me out of my contemplation. I absently looked back down and noticed my alarm clock and the red digits blinking and flashing back at me. 7:38 A.M.

It ran as an electroshock through me.

I snapped back.

And my entire body jumped ten feet up at the sudden high-pitched screech of my alarm, blaring into my ears. My hand bumped over a lamp, over books, and books, and books on my bedside table before finding the switch of my alarm clock and finally turning it off. My tense limbs sagged down in relief and my heartbeat calmed down, allowing me to breathe in and out, and in and out, and it sank in.

I was going to be late for work. I couldn't. I couldn't be late now. Not when I was so close, closer than I had ever been in three years, or in twenty-one years altogether. I couldn't lose my job. I cursed my alarm clock and skipped out of bed. I blinked against the dizziness and the shifting and spinning of the world, grabbed some clothes and rushed to the bathroom.

I was running down the stairs in no time, washed and dressed. I raced down the corridor, by the living room without stopping, by the kitchen without stopping, giving up on the idea of breakfast. I caught the sight of my mother and my little little brother at the table and backtracked to greet them. I popped my head in the doorway and beamed at them.

"Hi Mum! Hi Sam! I don't have time for breakfast but enjoy! Got to go, bye!"

I rushed to the front door without waiting for their answer. I jumped into my shoes and tied my shoelaces in three moves. I slipped into my coat, caught my bag, grabbed my beige scarf and my woolly hat, and I was out! I opened the door and stopped.

There was something wrong. Something bothered me, a thought, a feeling, an impression nagging me, niggling me. I looked back into the house. I frowned. I couldn't figure out what the problem was. I stood on the doorstep a moment, I didn't want to walk away without solving the issue, or at least knowing the issue. But I didn't have the time for this, I was late enough already. I shook my head and stepped outside.

The cold immediately hit me. I tucked my nose into my scarf and pulled my hat over my ears. I rubbed my hands together to warm myself up and started down the lone and silent streets. The snow on the ground was still immaculate, there were no footsteps on the pavements, no tire marks on the driveways or on the roads. No one had come out, the Village was still waking up, lying in bed under warm covers, holding tight onto a parent, onto a husband, onto a wife, and I was alone. I walked on, lost in my mind, distancing myself from the world, trusting my legs and my feet alone to lead me.