Grayson Snaps

Chapter 6: Complications

Chapter 6: Complications

I pace back and forth in front of the restroom stalls. The lights buzz lowly above my head. There's three stalls and two urinals; the floor is an off-white, chipped, and stinks of piss and cheap lemon scented disinfectant. There's the drip, drip, drip of a leaky faucet somewhere to my right.

The moment we got inside the building, Grayson headed straight to the restroom. Following, I ended up seeing him slide into the stall on the very left. Now, it's just him and I.

I glance at the off-white metal of the stall door.

"Gray, what's going on?" I say, walking back and forth. He won't let me in.

Silence.

Pure, dead silence. Thoughts are racing through my head. I mean, the way Grayson is acting...it's weird. He'd never get anywhere near Cheyenne before, much less get inside a van with her and her friends to smoke pot. And why had Tristan's dog seemed so hell bent on making Grayson dead meat?

"Something's wrong." I say, and the sound of my voice echoes off the walls. I let out a breath and I can still smell the lingering scent of dope coming from Grayson. He's going to have to spray himself down with the AXE I have in my locker. Mom will be able to smell it on him.

"It's more than you just being...you." I say.

He doesn't reply, although I can hear the soft sound of his Vans on the tile floor as he shifts his weight from one leg onto the other.

"Can you just say something please?"

Silence.

I am tired of this. I stop in front of his stall and throw my hands against it. To my surprise, it isn't locked. The door slams into the inside stall wall and I'm left seeing eye-to-eye with Grayson standing right in front of the toilet. I push all the way inside. The door swings back, closing.

But my eyes only linger on his concerned, frustrated face for a moment because he has the collar of his shirt pushed down, completely exposing his shoulder. I stare because What the hell?! The slash wounds from last night are like thick scars. Three thick scars that have hair sprouting out of the slight pink lining of the wounds. I reach over and let my fingers skim his healing skin.

"Woah." I breathe out, my eyes lingering on the dark gray hairs that seem imbedded into the wounds.

"Woah. That's it? Woah?" He says, eyes widening. A look of agitation crosses his face and he slams his hand against the side of the stall.

"I can't have hair coming out of my scars, E. That's fucked."

"No...way." I shake my head and finger the wounds gently.

Now, I don't know much about medicine or healing or whatever but having hair here doesn't seem very normal to me.

"What the fuck!" He bangs against the stall with the side of his hand. Bang, bang, bang. It shakes the whole structure.

"This isn't..." I pull my hand away, staring.

I mean...that can't be possible. No. No way. But what if it is?

"What? What?!" Grayson practically bites out, his jaw clenched, as his eyes meet mine again, one hand still on the stall's wall and the other roughly pulling the collar of his shirt back up, hiding the claw marks.

"No way, Gray, but like..." I can't get the words out...they seem so arbitrary.

But what else could it be?! I mean, think about it. Grayson was attacked by a wild animal that didn't look like a wild animal at all. He was attacked by the thing on a full moon...now he's acting all pissy like he has a stick up his butt and his wounds have hair sprouting from them.