Survival
Chapter 37
Contradiction
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Warning, this chapter contains descriptive cannibalism.
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Mr. Weinberg, head of the drama department, looked at the young man standing on the stage, trying to figure him out. He knew of Sean Walcott, most of the world knew his story, the miracle boy who'd come back from the dead after his family was brutally slaughtered. Since then he'd helped solve his family's murder, saved Liam Dunbar's life, captured a pair of psychotic teenage bounty hunters and convinced Patrick Clark to surrender to police, saving Misty Holland's life in the process. He was a remarkable young man, indeed, a media darling and a bona fide hero. And from the disk he'd been given he was quite talented as well. Still, in person he seemed timid and anxious.
Hardly the qualities for an actor.
"So, Sean, you're a gymnast with some experience in acrobatics, minor dance training and a fine singing voice. The question is, can you act?"
Sean gave an odd smile. He'd been acting his entire life, pretending to be human rather than Wendigo. Of course, he couldn't tell Mr. Weinberg that. "I'm not sure, sir. I've never acted before, in a play."
"Then we shall see. Have you read Shakespeare?"
"Yes sir."
That was one thing about Sean, he answered questions in a polite but vague manner.
"Anything in particular?"
"The Tempest, Romeo and Juliet, and A Midsummer Night's Dream."
"Anything else that interests you?"
"Cats."
"That's aiming pretty high. What role?"
"I realize I'm too short and muscular for most roles. Perhaps Pouncival or Carbucketty."
"That would fit your skills, but you'd have no solo. Why not Mistoffelees, he's small?"
"I'd rather be a secondary character. Besides," He smiled, "He's funnier."
"Odd that you'd aim for the Holy Grail of musicals but only want a minor part." A lack of ambition, perhaps? Or a lack of self-confidence? Or just a desire to make others laugh? "You realize that while I sympathize with the tragedies involving your family and yourself, as well as recognize your relative fame, I cannot treat you any differently than any other student."
"I don't want special treatment, I want to achieve things on my own merits, not pity." He swallowed hard, "And I'd rather do without that kind of 'fame'. There is one thing I do ask, that I not be placed anywhere near a prop of an axe, hatchet or tomahawk."
"That's certainly understandable, given the circumstances, but we have nothing planned involving such things."
"Thank you, sir."
"Please, call me Mr. Weinberg."
...
It turned out that Ian McCrae was also a member of the drama club, and was assigned to show Sean the ropes, as it were. He might have talent, but being home-schooled and isolated most of his life had left Sean a bit socially awkward. The fact that he knew his guide helped. Granted, they had first met in The Jungle with Ian practically naked and trying to get into Sean's pants, but that was the past. He knew several of the other students already, Alex Cross, Josh Diaz, and, of all people, Kira.
"You have to be careful around here. When a show or a play comes along, the competition for good roles can be cut-throat, especially towards new students." Ian warned, "I overheard your interview with Mr. Weinberg. There are guys who'd kill for the role of Mr. Mistoffelees. Were you serious when you said you'd rather not play him given the chance?"
"Yes. I'm a contradiction, I guess, someone who wants to be an entertainer but doesn't want the spotlight. Besides, I like Pouncival better."
"It is kind of surprising you'd join drama. You're usually a shy, quiet person, you'd seem the last person to want to be in a production, even if you can sing, dance and perform gymnastics."
"I haven't danced for some time, I'd have to practice as hard as everyone else." He shrugged, "But being all wrapped up in my problems isn't going to help me get anywhere. When I'm on the bars or the rings I'm not able to think about the pain, I have to focus on not screwing up, on being my best. Hopefully the stage will be the same."
Ian leaned closer and whispered, "What about your anxiety problems? The panic attacks? All of the work that goes into a production can be incredibly stressful at times."
"I have to learn to live with my problems. I may stumble a bit, but it's better than not trying at all." Sean felt a sudden pain in his stomach, and winced.
Not now.
"Sean, are you alright?"
"I have to go home. My condition's acting up again. Thank you for showing me around, I'll see you tomorrow." Sean rushed through his vague explanation and headed for the door.
...
A short time later,
"Hey, Stiles," Sean approached the taller boy, "Could you do me a favor and drive Liam home. I... I have to stop at my house and, well, eat. He doesn't need to see that."
"O-Kay. I'll do that. Can't have him ending up as a light snack, can we?" He paused, "Are you alright to drive like this?"
" Thank you. I'm not that hungry, yet. But I will be in a few hours unless I eat." He paused, "I'll tell him when I see him. Do you know where he might be? I have to leave as soon as possible, and don't want him to be waiting for me after I'm already gone."
"He's probably headed to the field for practice. I'm going that way, so I'll tell him for you."
"Thanks again."
Sean rushed out to David's car, not able to wait for the closing bell, and headed back to the lonely old mansion that had once been his home. All of the stress and excitement was getting to him, making him hungry. He definitely did not want anyone to witness him eating his grim repast. He didn't even want to eat it, but he had no choice. His body needed human flesh, he'd killed one innocent man and caused Liam to be turned into a Werewolf last time his Hunger took control. Never again did he want that to happen, for innocent people to suffer because of him.
He had enough grief and guilt to last a hundred lifetimes.
He pulled into the garage and shut it behind him, unlocking the door, locking it behind him and heading straight for the stairs, and the freezer. A slight push on the right board and the freezing air washed over him like a wave.
He hated the cold.
Sean walked over to the body of the woman that he had been feeding on the past few times The Hunger had struck him, and there wasn't much left. He sighed, his breath cloudy in the freezing air, and took down the body, then walked over to another shrouded form, a man this time. He wouldn't let the woman go to waste, but he needed more than what was left. He hurried into the hidden, blessedly warm dining room and began to prepare dinner. Once everything was properly cooked he began carving the meat.
He hated it. He hated desecrating bodies, eating human flesh. But he was a Wendigo. He could at least take comfort in the fact that neither he nor his family had killed these people.
The table was so empty without his family.
So quiet.
Perhaps, one day he could invite Donovan over for dinner, just to have someone to talk to, to share a meal with.
...
Liam leaned back into his seat, "It must be hard for him to be alone in that house."
"I doubt you'd be able to handle him preparing and eating dinner."
Liam crossed his arms over his chest, "I've seen plenty of sick stuff, like what happened with Slender Man and that crazy guy. Or when that girl snapped that nut's neck. And I see Stiles naked in the locker room all the time."
Stiles laughed, "Feeling inadequate at the sight of a real man, kid? Don't worry, you'll get bigger, if you're lucky."
Liam kicked the back of Stiles' seat, a bad idea as he was driving.
"Hey, watch that, you scuff my seats, I'll scuff your ass!" Stiles shouted angrily.
"I bet you'd love to get your hands on my ass."
Brett growled, "Would both of you shut-up! I'm bi, and even I have no interest in hearing about either of your asses!"
"What, you don't think I'm good enough? I'll have you know I've been told that I have a very nice bubble butt." Stiles looked hurt.
Brett just smirked, "You do."
Liam stuck a finger down his throat and made a gagging noise.
"Weren't we talking about Sean, loneliness and eating people?" Scott tried desperately to change the subject.
"Sean has a nice-"
Scott's Alpha growl quieted everyone. He smiled and leaned back in his seat, "Finally. Back on topic, Liam, you've seen corpses, you've seen monsters, you've even seen Slender Man and witnessed a murder. But you've never seen someone chop up a human body and eat it. And Sean wouldn't want you to have to see that. He cares about you and wants to keep you safe and out of Eichen House. We all do, right?"
"I don't know, it might do him some good..."
Scott shot Stiles a furious red glare, "Sean can barely handle the sight of his... Food, and he's a Wendigo. I don't think any of us could handle watching a Wendigo eat, except maybe Peter, because he's a sociopath and has killed people horribly in the past."
"And we hang out with him why?" Stiles asked.
"It's better than letting him roam around on his own. Besides, he has helped us a lot."
"And he killed The Mute."
"That's not a good thing, Liam." Scott said sternly.
"Well, at least we know that mouthless freak won't murder anyone again, thanks to Peter." Liam argued.
"That's not our way, we're not killers. We're not monsters."
"That depends on your definition of 'monster'. Most humans would consider Werewolves, Wendigo and Banshees to be monsters. Well, Banshee are typically considered ghosts or spirits and Wendigo are traditionally considered evil spirits in most cultures-"
Scott shook his head, "But they're not. I'm not talking about what other people think we are, I'm talking about what we actually are. People. Plain, ordinary people with superhuman abilities."
"Like mutants in The Marvel Comics Universe."
"Right."
"I still prefer DC. Batman. Of course, I get stuck being Robin. That reminds me, Sean got into drama class, which is weird because he's so shy and afraid of crowds."
"How many people actually attend school plays?"
"That depends on the play, advertising, promotional work..."
"Guys," Liam spoke up, "I just realized, all of you, except Brett, are Seniors. What's going to happen after this year, when you go off to college and we're stuck in high school?"
Stiles grinned, "I doubt Scott will graduate for a few more years. He thought Napoleon was a type of ice cream."
"Stiles, that was years ago!" Scott shouted over the laughter.
"It was last semester!"
Scott punched Stiles in the arm.
"Hey, I'm trying to drive here!"
"We'll talk about the graduation thing next pack meeting, Liam. That'll be tonight, if Sean is up to it. I doubt any of us, well, except Lydia and maybe Sean, are able to afford college. You won't get rid of us that easily."
"I figured Stiles would get a scholarship. I mean, he's a genius."
"Unfortunately, my behaviour made it unlikely I'd get a scholarship. My record's longer than a Super Star Destroyer..."
"You can't help having ADHD and panic attacks! That's not right!" There was genuine anger in Liam's voice.
"Life ain't fair, kid."
...
To be continued...
Notes
The Super Star Destroyer Executor, Darth Vader's personal flagship, was 19,000 kilometers long. That's over 1,1806 miles long.