Melissa gasped, her heart pounding in her ears as she sat up as quickly as possible. A name sat on her tongue, something familiar, a name that had meaning to her somehow.
"Scott." She whispered softly, pressing a hand to her chest.
A face popped into her head, the face of a little boy, no more than 5 years old wearing a thin blue jacket and a cotton t-shirt. He was smiling slightly, and she knew, she just knew that he was smiling at her.
As she sat there in the dark of her room, more memories came rushing back. That same boy bringing her dinner, now almost a teenager. The boy giving her cash he'd saved up for himself, just so that she could pay the rent. The boy, wearing thrift shop clothes and holding a worn lunch box and never once complaining.
A more specific memory popped into her head, that same boy, baring fangs, with wolf like ears and excessive facial hair and her turning him away. Melissa felt gut wrenching pain at that specific memory, the pain of turning someone that important to her away because of something they didn't get to choose.
She knew right then and there, that the boy was hers, he was her son. And she didn't know why or how she knew that, but she knew one thing only, she was going to do anything to get him back.