Post by Deleted on May 22, 2021 11:57:58 GMT -7
When Julian woke up, it felt like all of his limbs were made of stone.
He tried moving his head first, but soon found that it was painful to move his neck very much at all. He reached up, cautiously touching the spot on the back of his neck, only to feel that it was covered with a bandage.
When he opened his eyes, he was immediately hit with a splitting headache that made him furrow his brow in pain. As his vision adjusted, he noticed that he wasn't at home in his bed.
He was in a hospital room.
His gaze flicked around wildly until it landed on his mother. Her face was red and blotchy, and when she noticed him, she wiped her face with her handkerchief. When Julian tried to speak, he found that his mouth was incredibly dry and his throat, sore. But it didn't matter in the end, he thought, because he didn't have the words to explain what it was like to see his mother, normally impassive and stony, who had barely grieved in front of him for her husband, cry for the first time.
-
At first, it was difficult for to understand what had happened to him. He didn't remember sneaking out of the house. His memory skipped like a broken record straight to the hospital whenever he tried to force himself to figure it out. It wasn't any easier to understand when papers were shoved in front of him by the hospital staff. It took a few weeks to realize that he'd filled out paperwork to put his name on the Werewolf Registry - and that his life had changed forever.
-
The first time that he transformed - on a damp July night - his mother had warded him into the basement. He wasn't sure if she and Audrey had left, though he couldn't bring himself to feel mad about it. For the first time, he thought - Audrey deserves better than this.
The mark on the back of his neck had scarred over, and when he touched it, it sent a shudder through him.
Waiting was the worst part.
No - the fact that he'd waited and waited and couldn't remember the first transformation was the worst part, because it made him feel like he was dreaming in nightmarish technicolor.
No, no - the fact that this was the first transformation of all the transformations that would encompass the rest of his life, that was the worst part, he thought, curling in on himself as he waited for his mother to undo the wards. The worst part was that he had no friends--that he'd bullied his classmates--that...
This was his life.
Crap.
He tried moving his head first, but soon found that it was painful to move his neck very much at all. He reached up, cautiously touching the spot on the back of his neck, only to feel that it was covered with a bandage.
When he opened his eyes, he was immediately hit with a splitting headache that made him furrow his brow in pain. As his vision adjusted, he noticed that he wasn't at home in his bed.
He was in a hospital room.
His gaze flicked around wildly until it landed on his mother. Her face was red and blotchy, and when she noticed him, she wiped her face with her handkerchief. When Julian tried to speak, he found that his mouth was incredibly dry and his throat, sore. But it didn't matter in the end, he thought, because he didn't have the words to explain what it was like to see his mother, normally impassive and stony, who had barely grieved in front of him for her husband, cry for the first time.
-
At first, it was difficult for to understand what had happened to him. He didn't remember sneaking out of the house. His memory skipped like a broken record straight to the hospital whenever he tried to force himself to figure it out. It wasn't any easier to understand when papers were shoved in front of him by the hospital staff. It took a few weeks to realize that he'd filled out paperwork to put his name on the Werewolf Registry - and that his life had changed forever.
-
The first time that he transformed - on a damp July night - his mother had warded him into the basement. He wasn't sure if she and Audrey had left, though he couldn't bring himself to feel mad about it. For the first time, he thought - Audrey deserves better than this.
The mark on the back of his neck had scarred over, and when he touched it, it sent a shudder through him.
Waiting was the worst part.
No - the fact that he'd waited and waited and couldn't remember the first transformation was the worst part, because it made him feel like he was dreaming in nightmarish technicolor.
No, no - the fact that this was the first transformation of all the transformations that would encompass the rest of his life, that was the worst part, he thought, curling in on himself as he waited for his mother to undo the wards. The worst part was that he had no friends--that he'd bullied his classmates--that...
This was his life.
Crap.
