To Control The

Chapter 7 (Layla's POV)

     Headlines read, MURDERER STILL ON THE LOOSE! BE ON THE LOOK-OUT! I look at the TV screen in shock. My hand covering my mouth in utter disbelief. The video of the crime scene that happened 3 days ago, a young woman's face displayed before the coroner zips her up as she is carried into the coroner's van. A slow chill surges down my spine as I stare at the Tv screen. All I can hear is the sudden echoes of Rachel's voice as she says my name repeatedly to get my attention away from the screen. Finally, I snap out of it. "W-What's up?" "I've been calling your name for the past 5 minutes, since the news came on.. Is everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost.." I shake my head briefly as I fight the urge to go puke my guts out at what I saw on the screen. "No.. No. I'm all good. Just haven't heard from Damien.." "Maybe you should go check up on him.. Just to be sure he is okay.." I nod as I grab my coat and keys and look once more at my friend before making my way out the front door.
      I speed through the city of Chicago as I make my way to Damien's place. I keep texting and calling his phone, but straight to voicemail and no reply. I roll my eyes and think to myself, "I'm gonna tear this man a new one if he keeps ignoring me..". I see Damien's building and turn into the parking garage to park the car and notice that Damien's car is indeed in its usual parking spot. I rush out of the car and make my way up the elevator to his floor. While in the elevator, I have an eerie sensation as a tall slender man stands in the far left corner in a trench coat and a hat. Not saying a word. As the elevator makes its way up, the light flickers suddenly and the man chuckles softly almost hysterically. I turn to look at him and he shuts up and as if God has answered my prayer. The elevator pings.
I spring out of the elevator as quick as I could and make it down the hallway and see that Damien's door is slightly open. I press my hand firmly against the door as it creaks open. "Damien.. Are you here?" I step inside slowly and cautiously. It's dark and very, very quiet. I look around and notice that the place is completely trashed. "What the fuck.. What happened here?" I think to myself. I walk down the hallway to where Damien's room is and see what seems to be huge claw marks. I trace my fingertips over them ever so slightly and feel the ragged pieces of the wall where the claw marks are. I get to Damien's room and see that his room is also trashed and the window is shattered all over the floor. The walls have claw marks everywhere and the bed was ripped and the feathers of the pillows were drenched everywhere in the room. I see a lamp flickering and a dark figure huddled in a corner. "Show yourself.. Where's Damien?" I grip the keys in my hand, ready for my flight or fight instincts to kick in. The dark figure stands abruptly and turns and I see that it is Damien and my eyes widen as I rush to him and hug him hard, but back away as I slap the crap out of him. "You had me worried sick! Thanks for not picking up the phone once in awhile. You jerk!"  My hand stings from the slap I just threw at him. He looks stunned at the notion.
         I begin to try to speak once again, but, smooth, warm lips crash against my own as my eyes widen. A soft moan escapes my lips as he deepens the kiss with his arms around my waist. We pull away as he chuckles at my sudden outburst of affection. I straighten myself up and whisper, "What happened here..? Those claw marks on the walls.." He looks at me somberly as he sits on his broken bed. "I'm not.. I'm not normal.." I look up at him as I kneel between his legs. "Who is ever normal in this lifetime?" A hushed whisper passes his lips, "Normal really isn't the word for it. More like abnormal.." I look at him confused, "Tell me.. Please. I'm pretty sure nothing will change between us.." He looks at me as tears roll down his face. "I'm a werewolf.."
        "What the.. No.. No.. Werewolves can't be real.. They are just a myth.. A scary story parents tell their kids.." I think to myself as I look at him in utter shock. I burst into laughter at the mere thought. Tears begin to well up in my eyes. "This can't be real. This man couldn't hurt a fly.." I recall the fact that he chased a man who stole my bag and nearly beat him to death. I shiver at the recollection of that memory. I look at him and think, "Or could it be.. Could this man be telling the truth.. Is he a werewolf? Would he hurt me?"