I fucked up so bad. Last night I killed a man. He deserved it right enough, I just wish I knew what to do now.
I was born a monster and even though I have stuck rigidity to the golden rule I always knew this could happen.
We’re so much better at controlling our inner wolves these days. Most of us are perfectly capable of living as normal people, albeit people with strangely demanding metabolisms. It’s over 50 years since scientists worked out that shifting, even at full moon, isn’t necessary so long as we’re eating enough protein and getting enough physical exercise to keep up with the werewolf metabolism. That urge to hunt is driven by biological deficiencies that can be kept at bay just by maintaining the right lifestyle, a couple of nights eating at the all you can eat barbeque each month and hitting the gym hard and it’s no more hassle than any woman goes through on a monthly basis.
With that knowledge we were able to integrate into society, live normal lives, just lives with a closely guarded secret. No one could ever know. In practice that means never hunting humans, not shifting where any non lycan might see it, and making sure to clean up your own messes. Sounds pretty easy. It was; until last night.
It had been one hell of a day. You get them in my line of work as a family support officer. Kids don’t come into our care unless things are really screwed up at home. Our role is to remove them from danger and give them a chance at a future. I can’t deny that the system is a mess and only a handful of them ever really get to escape to a decent life, but it’s better than where they were and that’s got to be worth something.
You learn to recognise the ones that are really broken. They’re too quiet. They don’t cry. They blend in with the furniture as though they’re used to being invisible, until someone moves too fast and the way they flinch and retract into themselves speaks volumes about why they were hoping not to be noticed.
Mia was one of those. She was a skinny little waif, six years old, wearing a dirty dress that was so tight it left marks where it dug in around the armholes and so short it barely covered the nappy you would think she was too old to be needing. She was in desperate need of a good meal, and a wash. She was dropped off for safeguarding in such a hurry the officers in charge had hardly spared her a second thought, the parents had been arrested and there was no family who could take her.
I’d found her a placement with Linda, one of our most experienced carers, warm and caring and quiet enough not to scare such a timid child. Mia was tucking in to a happy meal when I left, eating ketchup with her fingers after Linda finally managed to convince her that the food was hers. I hadn’t even made it home before Linda called me back. She’d put the kid in a bath and as the dirt came away she’d been shocked at the scale of the bruising that was uncovered. She had stopped mid bath when she began to suspect that there was more to the child’s sore red bottom than just an awful nappy rash.
Together we’d spent a fraught night at the hospital while Mia was examined, photographed and x-rayed by a team of horrified doctors. The list of injuries was extensive and Linda’s fears that Mia had been sexually assaulted were confirmed. Throughout this ordeal Mia flopped like a ragdoll, so silent and passive it sent chills down my spine. How many times had she been manhandled? Forced to go along with whatever treatment the adults in her life deigned to give her. I didn’t even notice she was crying until Linda stepped forward to wipe the streaks from her face left by silent tears. Eventually everything was documented and Linda was allowed to take her home. I went along with them and while Linda tucked the little one into bed I made tea. I couldn’t leave Linda alone with her thoughts, and sure as hell didn’t want to be alone with mine, so we drank tea and munched our way through a pack of chocolate hobnobs while we tried to wash away the images in our heads.
The next few months were gruelling. I stayed on as Linda’s main liaison, together we found out that the parents were being prosecuted following the death of Mia’s older brother Dylan who had taken his own life as the only way he could find out of the nightmare he was living through. The CPS tacked Mia’s case on with his, it made sense, her case was minor in comparison and any sentences imposed would almost certainly run concurrently. Then the negotiating started and bit by bit the case was whittled away. By the time it came to court Kelsey and Joshua Watson were sentenced to 18 months each and a slapped wrist. Then of course they appealed and because one sloppy officer had fucked up one reference on one piece of paperwork they were aquited.
What happened next was the real shocker, now they were officially innocent they applied to have Mia returned to them. Yesterday I had to tell Linda she had 48 hours to prepare for Mia to leave.
It broke me. Mia has changed so much in those few months, she’s grown a good couple of inches and filled out from regular home cooked meals and occasional treats. She laughs now, and runs around, she chatters about anything and everything. She says “No, thank you!” if she doesn’t want a hug. Linda was asking about adoption and I really thought she was going to be one of the rare success stories.
I left Linda shaking and in tears and did the only thing I could think of to calm my own emotions. I hit the gym. For two hours I pushed my body as hard as I could. I beat the crap out of a punch bag, lifted weights, worked my way around circuit after circuit. I can’t say it didn’t help, but it wasn’t enough. The other people were too damn happy, chatting about nothing, giving each other high fives as they hit a personal best, taking in the endless “positive mental attitude” signs and totally ignoring the fucked up mess that was just outside the door.
I had to get away but I wasn’t ready to go home and be alone, so leaving my car in the gym carpark I turned towards the woods and the lake and started to run. I wasn’t thinking where I was going, it definitely wasn’t intentional, but somehow I ended up in Castle Park, by the playground where Dylan had hanged himself. When I realised I stopped and sat on one of the swings. It was just starting to get dark so the playground was empty. I couldn’t hold back the tears and just sobbed.
I hadn’t noticed him approach until he was right behind me and was shaking my shoulder, asking “You Ok, Kid?”
It’s not the first time I’ve been mistaken for a child, being less than 5 foot tall and gracile which sounds a lot nicer than scrawny or skinny, I get it all the time. Having come from the gym I had no makeup on, my hair was tied back in a simple pony and I was wearing a t-shirt and jogging bottoms that had been bought from the kids section in Primark.
He clearly had no idea who I was, but I recognised him from the mugshots in Mia’s file, Joshua Watson. The picture’s hadn’t done him any favours, he looked nice in person, like any bloke you might meet in the street. He was carrying a paper wrapped bundle with a distinctive scent of vinegar and hot oil, loot from the local chippy no doubt. I sniffed and muttered “I’m ok”.
“You lost?” he asked “Where’s your home?” he looked around but of course there was no-one else around. He grabbed my arm and gave it a tug saying “You’d best come with me, we’ll go back to my house and see if we can get you sorted”.
I don’t know why I let him lead me away, or how quickly I realised that he wasn’t leading me in the direction of his house at all. My blood started pounding as he steered me towards the wooded area just before the trainline. I could smell his excitement, feel him quicken, and suddenly I knew. The sick bastard was planning on celebrating his freedom by assaulting a sad teenager he had stumbled across by accident.
It didn’t go the way he intended, he pulled me towards a “shortcut” and tried to force me to the ground. I let him. He kneeled on top of me while I lay still as though in shock. He thought he had me overpowered and looked away to fumble with his jeans. That was all it took, I shifted beneath him and let all the disgust and anger flow as I transformed into my wolf self. I tore into him tasting the metallic warmth of blood, he only managed a choked moan before he passed out. I howled as the frenzy overtook me, sinking my teeth into him time and again tearing through the flesh and splintering bone. I don’t know how long it lasted but it can’t have been more than a minute before I realised a dog was barking nearby and a woman’s voice was trying to calm it down. It must have heard my howl and some primitive core had responded. Even in wolf form I knew that a dog walker was more of a risk than I could take. I’d heard police experts say that 40% of abandoned bodies are found by people walking dogs. I crept into the shadows and slinked away, breaking into a run as soon as it felt safe to do so.
I got back to the gym carpark before I remembered that my keys were in the jogging bottoms that I’d left behind when I shape-shifted. It was a long time since I’d shifted unprepared, usually I’d have stashed my clothes, key, phone etc somewhere safe beforehand. I knew enough about crime scenes to know that anything I left behind was an invitation to the forensic team to come find me so I had to go back. I got lucky, everything was exactly as I left it, the woman I heard must have gotten her dog under control. Thank fuck for well trained pets. I didn’t even look at Joshua, I was still in wolf form and the smell of his blood was almost overwhelming. I was afraid I’d lose control. I hated leaving a mess for someone to find, but what else could I do? My clothes were badly torn, but the pockets had survived and my keys were still there. I dragged them further into the wood and when I was sure I was out of sight put the rags on anyway, figuring that was less likely to draw unwanted attention than wandering around naked. I made my way back to the gym carefully, staying hidden as much as I could, keeping my head down when I couldn’t. I only saw a couple of people and they didn’t pay me any attention, even so I didn’t leave the shadows to make for my car until I was sure the car park was empty and stayed clear of the areas covered by CCTV. I took the back roads home, avoiding traffic lights and anywhere else there was likely to be cameras. As the adrenalin wore off, the fear slowly overtook me along with the realisation of just what I had done. I’d hunted a human, I’d shifted in a public park, and I’d left my mess behind to be found by whoever stumbled across it first.
I’ve been listening to the news compulsively ever since, just waiting for them to find Joshua and start hunting for me. Will it be the police that find me first or the Lycan Council? Either way I’m screwed.