Deadly sweet Lycan

okay so this is anew story that i thought up! i hope you like it! this is just sort of a test run i dont know if i should continue with it or nah so im going to see how you like it.

tell me if it is worth continuing!!!!!!!!!!!! if i get over 10 votes by the end of the month i'll continue with it!!!

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ch.1

I could feel the change coming. My veins were twitching and writhing under my skin, trying to break free of the burning sensation within me. My fingers were itching and clawing at the carpeted floor of the run down motel I was staying at. My bones were breaking, one by one, settling into an unnatural, inhuman position. This was hell.

I literally felt like I had gone beneath the earth and entered the dimension that so many people feared. I could imagine the devil himself laughing as he poured the gas on my body while igniting the flames.

Agony.

Pure and simple agony. Nothing but black and red were on my mind. I couldn't concentrate on anything except the pain.

I faintly realized, in an abstract way, that I was screaming. I couldn't help it. I needed to let a fraction of it out.

I wanted to die. That was the only release that I felt I could have. Nothing else would alleviate the pain. I wanted the Angle of death to save me.

Unfortunately no angle appeared to me. Just more red.

What felt like hours later, I looked up to the dank, molded ceiling with great reverence. The smell of mold and mildew was a relief, because I could actually smell it. My senses were working past the red.

Finally it was over.

The first shift. I knew it was coming. That was why I had rented a sleazy motel three towns over.

If you haven't guessed already, I am lycan. And if anyone knew, I would be a dead lycan.

You see, lycan were never highly regarded or excepted in the world. They were all just tolerated and looked down upon like dirty mutts. But when an unknown lycan attacked a senators daughter, well, they had to be eradicated because they were deemed unstable and a threat to society.

Lycans used to live in packs, or little communities where they all stayed together and secluded. But after their eradication, they all died or went into hiding. I guess a few, myself included, slipped through the governments fingertips though.

I didn't even know I was a lycan until a few nights ago when the dreams came. Dreams of the moon, and death and agony. Of war, soldiers and wolves. There was a voice telling me to run and hide. To conceal myself away. That I was an official monster now.

And it's not like I could turn to anyone. Sympathizers to the Lycans were sent to a re-education schools. They were horrible, I guess they had rabid lycan kept alive and made them show the sympathizers just how terrifying the hunt could be. That the bloodlust can turn even the gentlest soul into a cold hearted killer.

And the genes that are privy to only the lycan kind, were randomized. They didn't run in families or certain groups of people. So I was truly alone.

If you would have asked me a month ago what my opinion on lycan were, I would have told you they were dirty mutts who were unnatural. My knowledge of them only included brutality and uncontrollable aggression. I didn't ever voice my opinion, but it was known.

Now, I have become one. I have become the monster that children fear are under their beds. I am the stalker of the night now.

I don't know how to handle this. I look down and see black paws. The color of shadows and nightmares. That's what I am now. A nightmare. I look up into the mirror hanging on the wall and whimper at the image staring back at me. I'm huge and ugly. My eyes are all black, my oily slicked fur is the same. I have fangs that don't quit fit into my mouth, causing me to look like I'm snarling even when I'm not. Saliva is dripping from my top fang and I honestly look evil. And all I want to do is hunt.