Shades of Grey: Althea's Story
Chapter 7 - Scars

The very first bolt of pain that hit Althea ripped through her spine. She threw her head back and screamed with the force of it. Her entire body tensed up, her hands drawing into fists and her toes curling in on her feet. She was still seated on the floor, pressed up against the stone wall of Marek's basement. Althea dug her heels into the floor, trying to find purchase on the blankets that dragged across the floor. She pressed her back into the wall, vaguely hoping that that would do something to stop the impending transformation, even though she knew it wouldn't.

In the end, that only served to make the pain worse. A few moments later, another spasm of pain exploded in her back, throwing it violently into the wall. Althea squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders throbbing. She tried to scream again, but she found her voice itself had almost died; nothing escaped her throat but a strangled groan. She slowly leaned to her right, gently lowering herself to the blankets on the floor, hoping that that would help instead. It didn't.

The next wave of pain didn't stay in her back, but radiated out all over her body. Her arms and legs screamed, and this time, it lasted for far longer than a few seconds. It felt like someone might have been running a car over her limbs. She'd never felt pain like this before in her life, and the transformation had only just begun. Tears began to leak out of the corners of her eyes, because she knew she was in for a hell of a night now. Much worse than she had ever even imagined.

She began to writhe, her body twisting about on the floor to try and find a more comfortable position. Nothing helped, of course, because there was absolutely no stopping this until it had run its course. Althea slowly rolled over onto her back, an exhausted groan escaping from her. She couldn't handle this. She had known that before this had even started, and she knew that now. This was too much for her. She'd never had a high tolerance for pain to begin with, and this was just absolutely unbearable. The thought of doing this month after month made her head spin and her stomach turn.

Then again, she tried to hold on to what Marek and even Healer Smethwyck had told her - that the first transformation was always the worst. Once this one was over, the pain would never be this bad again. Still, that did little to comfort her. Even if the subsequent transformations weren't as bad, they would still hurt, and that thought scared her so badly. Then again, she supposed she was getting ahead of herself. All she should have been focusing on was getting through this initial change. Of getting this obscene amount of pain to end. She'd deal with next month's transformation as it came. And the next one. And the next one after that.

Out of the corner of her eye, Althea saw Marek. He was on his right side, facing her, his body too caught up in tremors of pain. He was breathing heavily, his blue eyes just narrow slits, but they locked with her eyes immediately. Marek thrust out his right hand, reaching out for something. It was almost like he was blindly trying to find something in the dark. Finally, he found what he was looking for, his strong and firm fingers closing around one of Althea's own hands. He squeezed it tightly, trying to offer about the only comfort to her that he had left to give at the moment.

Just when it seemed like Althea's first throes of pain were fading, it began again, this one even worse than before. It felt like someone was ripping her spine apart - like a giant had grabbed her by the neck and legs, and was pulling as hard as they could. That same sensation spread throughout her body, radiating out to all of her limbs. It even extended to her fingers, causing them to cramp up. Althea had never broken a bone before in her life, but she imagined that this was what it would feel like, everything being stretched impossibly far and into positions they weren't meant to go. Still, she didn't let go of Marek's outstretched hand. Her fingers throbbed more with each passing second, and then it felt like pins were being shoved through the tips of them. Althea wasn't even sure how much longer she could sustain her grip, but she didn't care. Right now, Marek was the only thing she had to hold on to. The only thing she had left in the world.

"Please," Althea moaned. She was having trouble focusing on any one object, but she spotted Marek through the haze that her overworked senses seemed to create. "Make it stop," was the only thing she could think of to say. She wasn't necessarily talking to him, but she felt Marek's fingers close tighter yet around hers.

Next, her tailbone began to pound, almost like she had slipped and fallen on it. It caused her back to arch up off the ground, and she opened her mouth in a silent scream. She didn't even have the energy left for that, to give any power to her vocal cords. Even if she did, she doubted she'd even want to scream, because she would eventually make them raw, and she couldn't stand anything else hurting at the moment. She was actually surprised that her vocal cords didn't hurt, because everything else did.

Sweat broke out on her skin, feeling like tiny pinpricks all over her body. It was the same thing she'd been feeling for days, but so much more intense. Althea imagined that her skin might have been boiling, tiny bubbles forming underneath it and exploding. She couldn't stand it anymore. She got the urge to rip it off again, to tear it from her body in an effort to gain some kind of relief, to release the demons that she was sure were inside her. Althea knew she couldn't have stopped herself even if she wanted, because it was much stronger than ever before.

Pulling her hand out of Marek's grasp, she laid it across her own stomach. She sunk her nails into the fabric of her clothes before they planted themselves firmly in her skin. She had no idea what she was even doing. It vaguely occurred to her this was the mark of an insane mind, but she couldn't help it. The only thing that currently mattered to her was finding a way to bring herself some relief, and this seemed like the most logical way to get it.

She dragged her nails across her skin, fresh spikes of pain popping up in their wake. The area immediately felt wet, and that was when she realized that she didn't have fingernails anymore. They were claws, tearing her skin apart and leaving trails of blood behind. Still, she couldn't stop herself. It was some primal urge, overtaking her. Some animal instinct that had been awakened inside her.

Althea whimpered in pain, but she threw her paw over her stomach once again to repeat the process. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought that the wolf was completely in control, tearing her to shreds of its own accord. But no, she'd had the Wolfsbane, and she was still having completely coherent thoughts. She was well aware of what she was doing and exactly how insane it was, but it was somehow out of her control, which made no sense. What the hell was wrong with her?

She braced herself for the sensation of her claws digging into her skin again, but it didn't come. It took her a moment to register that it was because Marek was there. Or Marek's wolf. Althea's vision was oddly blurry, but she could see a large red wolf with a white muzzle standing over her. She could still make out his bright blue eyes, watching her with concern. It was still Marek.

He had wrapped a paw around hers, grabbing it and pulling it away from her body. But no. Her wolf wasn't going to stand for it. It had decided that this was the best course of action, and much like Althea's mindset as of late, no one was going to stop it. Althea struggled against him, throwing her paw out towards him and digging her claws into his muzzle and scraping them across his mouth. Bright red blood sprang up in the white fur, and that made Althea's heart hurt, but the wolf didn't seem to care. Althea threw her paw back over her abdomen, fully intending on carrying on with what it had started.

Marek whimpered, but he, however, wasn't deterred. He simply tackled her next, throwing himself across her body and pinning her limbs under her. Althea's wolf was angry, because she thrashed wildly under him, attempting to throw him off. In the end, Althea was no match for him, because he clearly outweighed her, both in human form and in wolf form. That didn't deter her wolf. She kept scrambling for something, anything that would allow her to throw the large red wolf off. She kept snagging her claws into Marek's fur and skin, pulling more blood with it, but still, he didn't budge. He didn't even flinch.

That was when a large drop of blood formed on the very tip of Marek's black nose. It hung there for a few seconds before splashing down onto Althea's own muzzle. It trickled down over her lip, splashing its coppery metallic taste onto her tongue. It was the most revolting thing she had ever tasted in her life, even worse than when she had sucked cut fingers into her mouth as a child to try and sooth them. Althea thought wolves were supposed to crave blood, but she didn't know what in the hell could have possibly been pleasing about that taste.

It was like someone had grabbed her and had shaken some sense into her. Althea was horrified, and everything became clear, driving anything that was left of her wolf from her mind. She stared up at Marek in dismay, trying to convey the sense of regret that she was feeling.

It was only then that Althea realized that the pain had stopped, and the sensation of pinpricks along her skin had subsided as well. The transformation had ended, and she had been so caught up in doing everything in her power to make it stop, she hadn't even realized when it had. Was that possible? That she had been so consumed with wanting to end it that her wolf had been able to break free for a few moments? Had been able to ignore the effects of the Wolfsbane potion? Had been able to take over her mind?

That scared Althea. Marek hadn't warned her about this. Or maybe he didn't know. Maybe there was something wrong with her wolf. Or maybe it was more powerful than his anyway, at least in terms of their minds. Then again, perhaps the problem was with her. Was Althea just unable to control her wolf because she was weak?

Althea decided that she was too exhausted to care just then anyway. It felt like she had just run a marathon. She wasn't in pain anymore, but she was so tired. Her muscles felt absolutely dead, and her body felt abnormally heavy, like it weighed a million pounds. Even her eyelids felt heavy, because they began to droop against her will.

Before she could pass out, Althea flicked out her tongue, laving it across Marek's bleeding mouth. The taste of his blood was like a punch in her stomach, one she had been anticipating, but it had seemed like the most natural action in the world to her. It was Althea's turn to whimper, trying to best to offer Marek her apologies for harming him.

Marek squinted his eyes and thrust his nose into hers, nuzzling it. That, however, was the last thing that Althea wanted. She felt horrible for hurting him, for making him bleed, and the last thing she deserved was his forgiveness. She simply pulled her nose away and tried to turn over. Marek let her go, finally standing up and releasing her limbs, albeit seemingly reluctantly.

Althea flipped over onto her right side, her back to Marek. She signed, not only from fatigue, but from absolute embarrassment over what had just transpired. Marek had been doing everything in his power to help her, to keep her safe. He had even thrown himself across her in an attempt to keep her own wolf from injuring her. He hadn't even been concerned about his own safety, just Althea's, and this was how she repaid him? By drawing blood?

Althea's vision had cleared, but then tears began to well up in her eyes. Through the veil of tears, Althea spotted her paw resting against the mound of messy blankets beneath her. It didn't even seem like it could belong to her, because once again, that was something that humans just didn't have. It felt completely foreign laying there, and Althea was afraid to move, because if she did, then she would know without a doubt that it was hers. She wasn't ready for that yet. Still wasn't ready for this to be completely real.

Her fur was grey, and Althea couldn't think of a more depressing color. Then again, she supposed it was appropriate, because that was how she felt at the moment - grey.


"Althea?"

Althea felt her shoulder being shaken, and she blinked her eyes open. The first thing she spotted was her hand, still thrown across the disarray of blankets before her. Only this time, it was actually her hand, not a paw, and she stared at it for a very long time, almost like she couldn't believe that it was back. She stretched her fingers out, watching as they responded to her movements, but then she regretted it. It awakened some dormant ache, sending a bolt of pain up through her arm. It had also taken a tremendous effort just to do that much, because it caused a wave of sleepiness to flow through her.

She continued to stare at her hand, at her very human hand like it was some kind of alien being. Had it really been a wolf's paw just last night? Had she transformed back into human form without it even waking her? And now all of that – the transformation and the wolf – seemed gone, just like a bad dream. Althea only wished it was, but she knew it wasn't. The soreness and stiffness in her joints was a testament to that. So was the fact that her hand didn't even feel like her own.

"Are you all right?

That was Marek again, fussing over her like she even deserved it. Althea was afraid to look at him, afraid to face him, to see the damage she had done to him. She already felt bad enough without needing the visual evidence shoved in her face.

Marek didn't seem to care. He placed a hand on her shoulder again, but this time, he used it to pull her over onto her back. That was when Althea couldn't deny what she had done anymore, because the proof was scrawled across Marek's otherwise handsome face. Three bloody scratches had been dug into his skin, running diagonally from his left cheek, across his lips, and down to the right side of his chin. They looked painful.

"How are you?" Marek asked again, apprehension flooding his voice. His eyes went up and down her body, looking any signs of injury. Some of Althea's hair had been matted down to her forehead with sweat. He pushed it away, then wiped her face dry. Why was he being so nice? Especially when he was the one that had been injured and not just her? Besides, everything had been Althea's own fault, so she should be the one taking care of him, and not the other way around.

Althea realized Marek was still waiting for an answer, so she tried her best to get her thoughts together. They were all in a jumble in her head. She wanted to apologize to him for hurting him, for wanting to be the one to spend the night in the same room together against Marek's own misgivings. He was the one that had the most experience with transforming, after all. She should have listened to him and not tried to change his mind. They'd both be better off for it.

At first, Althea was too embarrassed to talk about what she had done, so she settled on, "S-sore. Tired." Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, Althea regretted them. This should be about Marek, not her. "I'm sorry," she said hurriedly. She closed her eyes, unable to meet his gaze.

"For what?" Marek sounded genuinely shocked.

That made Althea feel worse. How could he seriously act like nothing had even happened? She hesitated for a long time before she forced herself to open her eyes and face him. This wasn't going to get any easier. Unable to speak, she reached up a hand, gently touching the very edge of one his cuts with her finger.

Marek flinched away, but gave her the best smile he could. "It's fine. They're just scratches."

"It's not fine!" Althea yelled, surprising both of them. She regretted that too, because even her throat hurt now, feeling impossibly dry and parched. Her breathing had become hard and heavy, her chest heaving with each one in and out. "They'll…scar. Werewolf wounds are cursed. I know nothing about this yet, but at least I know that much."

Marek's eyebrows went up like he was entirely surprised. "Don't you think I know that?" he asked in a teasing tone. "They're not the first scars I have, and they certainly won't be the last. It isn't the end of the world. Trust me."

Althea tried to blink back the tears that had suddenly accumulated in her eyes. "But on your face, Marek, where everyone can see. I'm so sorry. Especially when you didn't even want to transform together." Despite her best efforts to the contrary, Althea found her voice cracking. "I should have listened to you. I'm sorry," she said again. That seemed to be all she could say lately. She turned her face away in shame.

Marek placed a single finger underneath Althea's chin and tugged it back towards him, forcing her to look at him. "Hey," he said calmly, giving her another warm smile. "It really is fine." He shrugged and snorted. "So people will be even more freaked out by me than they already are, so what?"

At his words, Althea's bottom lip began to tremble, and she lost the battle to keep her tears inside. Several began spilling over the bottoms of her eyelids, dripping down her cheeks. "Marek…"

Marek moved his hand up, resting his finger over Althea's lips instead. "Althea, please don't apologize," he said firmly. "If this experience has taught me anything at all, it's that it really doesn't matter what other people think of me." He paused, letting out a soft breath. "It's going to sound cheesy, but the only thing that matters is what you think of yourself. I know who I am, and I know what I am, and if other people don't understand that…it's their problem. Not mine. So do I care that people may have another thing to ridicule me over? Hell no. Nor do I care all that much about what I look like. If anything, it was the werewolf who bit me in the first place that permanently disfigured me by making me what I am. Nothing I've done to myself as a result, and certainly nothing you've done could ever equate what he did to me. These were things we simply couldn't control, and this-" he gestured to his face, "is only superficial. It doesn't change who I am. It's nothing I could ever fault you for. Not when I've done the exact same things to myself."

Hesitating for a spilt second, Marek grasped the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pulled it up over his head. There were a few series of scars across his stomach, chest, and arms, but the worst one by far was a large and jagged scar that curved around his right collar bone. Marek laid his left hand over his right shoulder. "This is the bite. Everything else I've done to myself."

Her own shame momentarily forgotten, Althea asked, "Why?" Marek frowned in confusion, so she clarified, "We had the Wolfsbane. You said you've had it every single time, and that means we're supposed to be in control, right? So why would we…?"

"It has nothing to do with your wolf, I don't think." Marek drew himself up to his knees and leaned over Althea, pushing up her t-shirt from her stomach. He used his own shirt to dab at the scratches across Althea's abdomen. It stung, and she sucked in a quick breath.

"Sorry," he said, then quickly gestured to the scars on his body. "These all happened during my very first transformation, and as I said, it is the worst. That itchy feeling under your skin becomes absolutely unbearable, and for a very brief moment, I think you're completely in shock over the amount of pain you're in. You have no clue which way is even up, let alone are you capable of forming a coherent thought, except that you want it to stop. Trying to rip your skin off to get there seems like a completely normal thing to do, because I did it, too. Just for a few seconds right after the transformation ended, and then I realized exactly what it was I was doing, and I forced myself to stop. I haven't touched myself since, so I think it has little to do with your wolf, and more to do with what you've just been through." He smiled again, resting a hand on top of one of Althea's. "You're not crazy, and there's nothing wrong with either you or your wolf. It's normal. At least it was for me."

"So then you knew I would stop eventually," Althea said almost tonelessly. She thought Marek had gotten at least one thing right; she was in shock all right.

When Althea's cuts didn't show any sign of further bleeding, Marek seemed content in the fact that he wouldn't need to send for help, at least not immediately. He shifted his legs out from under him and found a more comfortable spot on the floor, staring across the room at the far wall for a moment. "I thought you would, but keep in mind, I'm only basing this off of what happened to me. I couldn't be sure, and I…didn't want you to hurt yourself any more than absolutely necessary. Not if I could stop it."

"You didn't have to," Althea said, then she sighed at the slightly hurt expression on Marek's face. "I appreciate it. I do. Hell, I appreciate everything you've done for me since I've met you. I don't know where I'd even be without you. I just…wish you didn't have to hurt yourself in the process." She turned her head to the side, away from his gaze. "I'm not really worth it," she mumbled.

"I think you are." Althea looked at him again, but Marek seemed to realize what he had just said, because he flushed. Clearing his throat, he hurriedly added, "Besides, I know this is an awful transformation all by itself. There's no need for it to be even worse."

"Even at the risk of making it worse on yourself."

"I've been through this before," Marek reminded her. "Nearly a year's worth of transformations by now. I'm used to the pain. A little more…no matter. This is still so new for you, and I just wanted to make it as easy for you as possible. That's all." He sounded apologetic, like he had done something wrong, and that made Althea feel guilty.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. Why in the hell couldn't she think of anything else to say?

Marek replaced a finger on her lips again. "I told you, there's no need to apologize. I…" He broke off, but then seemed to decide to forge on anyway, because he said, "I wouldn't have done it if you weren't worth it."

It was Althea's turn to blush. Again. "No," she said, "I mean…I'm not acting very grateful. And I am. Very much so. That someone saw fit to send a savior into my life exactly when I needed one."

Marek grinned. "I think you can thank my own savior for that. I don't think I'd be here if not for him. I seriously doubt that I'd be in a position to help anyone else out at any rate. I wouldn't even be willing to, I'm sure. I'd be absolutely bitter by now. In fact, I was bitter. It took him opening my eyes for me to see that my life wasn't over. But that wasn't the only thing he taught me. You want to know the real reason why the scars don't bother me?"

Althea swallowed hard and nodded.

"He told me that they weren't anything to be ashamed of," Marek explained. "That they were a sign of everything we've been able to survive. They show that we're strong, that we aren't going to let this condition destroy us. And that the people who do care about the scars don't matter, and the people who do matter won't care about them. That was coming from a man who had his own share of scars including three on his face." Marek placed the fingers of his left hand over his right eye and dragged them down across his nose and mouth, careful to avoid touching his own scars. "Right here." When he lowered his hand, he gripped Althea's hand with it once again. "I have nothing to be ashamed of, and neither do you."

Althea tried to push herself up into a sitting position, but as soon as she did, pain flared up all over her body again. She'd forgotten that everything still hurt. It was almost like when she'd first woken up after her bite, the pain lying dormant until the next time she moved. She froze and opened her mouth, letting out a soft whine.

"Careful," Marek warned. He snaked a hand under her back, using it to help her up.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Althea tried to ignore the pain, continuing to sit up. The more she was with Marek, the more determined she became to fight her way through this, to not just take what had been thrust upon her. To not lay on the ground when she could very well sit up. When she finally did succeed in getting off the floor, she paused, taking some deep and calming breaths.

"It'll be sore for another day or two," Marek explained, "and then next month will be much easier. I barely even give the pain a second thought anymore."

Althea had so much she still wanted to say. She felt like she should go on apologizing to Marek until the hippogriffs came home, even though he insisted that she didn't need to. That there was nothing to apologize for. She didn't want to keep telling her she was sorry anyway. Those two little words were beginning to feel so empty and generic to her. Instead, she only leaned into him like she had done so many times before, pressing her nose into his shoulder. He wrapped his arms tightly around her, beginning to rock her again just like he had done the night before.

They sat like that for a very long time, not even bothering to get up off the cold and hard stone floor. Althea's bottom and legs even began to protest against it, throbbing along with everything else. She knew that Marek must have also been in similar pain, but he didn't show it, and Althea was grateful for that. She kept wishing that if she hid her face against him long enough, things would go away. That this entire nightmare her life had become would disappear. After all, in Marek's arms, everything had a way of seeming okay and right. Sometimes Althea even felt normal again. But it wasn't enough.

It was to be the last time Marek would hold her.

To be continued…