Blood Moon
The moon is the source of a werewolves power, and during the night of the Blood Moon, it causes increased aggression in werewolves, especially in those who have no control over their transformation.
"You know I'm gonna have to find a way to punish you."
Isaac tried not to let the distress show, his eyes unblinking at the words. He would not allow the chaos of fear and worry crush him again.
"I have my responsibility as a parent so we'll start with something simple like," Mr Lahey continued nonchalantly. Yet, he was acutely aware of the torment he was causing his son. "Tell you what, you do the dishes and clean up the kitchen, okay?"
Isaac glanced up, dread settling in. He nodded his head, the action hardly noticeable. Despite the thick tension hanging in the air, Isaac was comforted that he wouldn't be locked up this time. But the cold fear still encased him like a cage of ice. This sounded too good to be true. His muscles stiffened and he had no appetite for dinner.
"Good," he said, taking a loud sip of tea, "because I'd really like to see this place spotless." He casually dropped the cup, and Isaac flinched at the sound. "You know, this entire kitchen-"
With a swipe of his arm, the plates clashed and fell on the floor, and Isaac instinctively jumped back and cowered, his tall frame curled in a tiny ball. His father belted out a heartless chuckle, taking pleasure at seeing his only son shaking with fright. "Absolutely-" He a smashed another glass at the wall behind Isaac, "-spotless." He no longer bothered to hide the brutal threat in his tone.
The cacophony reverberated louder than he had ever heard before and Isaac recoiled at the seemingly endless noise. It was as if his ears were extra sensitive, picking up each crash and clatter and then magnified it a thousand times, the prolonged sound piercing his eardrums. He stared in shock, his brain still absorbing what occurred, as it always does before repressing the memory. Agony cut through him as his hand automatically touched his cheek, finding a shard of glass embedded there. He winced and grit his teeth, picking the piece of glass out of his skin.
"Well that was your fault," Mr Lahey stated, unconcerned at the blood running down Isaac's cheek as he held the glass fragment.
Red-hot indignation washed over Isaac like tsunami as he staggered onto his feet, his eyes wide with outrage. "You could have blinded me-"
"Shut up," his father interrupted, annoyed and apathetic. "It's a scratch. It's hardly even..." The words died on his lips as Mr Lahey's face blanched, watching the blood seep back into the wound it trickled from. Isaac's fear mixed with bewilderment as he brought a tentative hand up and touched his wounded face, puzzled by how the agony somehow subsided instantaneously.
There was no longer cut. At least not anymore.
In fact, there was no blood at all. He couldn't smell the familiar metallic stench anymore. What was happening to him? Horror filled the depths of his innocent blue eyes, and his terrified gaze darted back to his father. It was an odd sight to see him speechless... and nervous. To see an expression other than the sadistic smirk as he spat out cold words that scarred his memories, words colder than the freezer that imprisoned him.
"Isaac?" Mr Lahey said, his tone unsure as his inner terror grew with each passing second. The callous, cruel anger that covered Mr Lahey's face was wiped away. Any trace of condescension vanished. His mouth gaped open at he observed Isaac in utter disbelief.
And Isaac saw the fear in them. No, he could smell the rancid fear radiating from his father. It overwhelmed his senses. The horrible fright that he endured every single day of his life now consumed his own father in an unmistakable numbness. Paralysing fear engulfed his dad and Isaac couldn't fathom the sudden surge of power that instantly enraptured him.
Isaac should run away. He should storm out of the despicable dwelling he called home, climb on his bike and cycle as fast as he could and seek solace in the darkness of the vast woods.
Something roared in his mind, and the deafening roar quelled the cowardly voices echoing in his head. As his father took a step back, Isaac felt inexplicable satisfaction bubbling in the pit of his stomach. It was dominance.
Sweet satisfaction transformed into a wild delight, rising up to his chest, his breaths becoming erratic. The delicious scent of terror invigorated him, filling his every sense. He inhaled deeply, fuelling the blazing joy inside and igniting the flame of vengeance it bore. His own change from a helpless boy to a powerful enigma surprised him, but instead of drowning in his thoughts, Isaac directed his undivided attention to the man in front of him. his eyes narrowed and he clenched his jaw, resentment shrouding his sanity. Nothing could dispel this fog. His tether over his mind weakened the more he drank in his father's plight. His own heart pounded faster and faster in his chest.
"I'm not gonna run away," Isaac said lowly, taking slow deliberate steps, as if he was a predator stalking a prey. "Not this time."
"Isaac, w-what are you doing?"
Isaac relished the horror his father exuded. It almost made him feel delirious. More than that, Isaac could hear his heart beat. It was racing. It was thudding violently against his rib-cage, and Isaac heard it all with crystal-clear clarity. Taking a leap forward, Isaac flung the table away with one hand, scaring his father like how he had scared Isaac moments ago. It smashed into the wall, nothing more than a pile of splinters. And as Mr Lahey shuddered and quaked and Isaac's blood pressure rose impossibly quick. A frenzied triumph overwhelmed him. His eyes flashed from cold blue to a glowing gold.
"Isaac, stop this-" It was a weak request. A pitiful cry from a dead man. A pathetic plea from an evil father.
One that abused him time and time again without a shred of remorse, without a single speck of regret or sorrow. Life was a living hell all because of him. The faded marks that marred his back from he physical beating he withstood; chipped nails caused by hours of clawing the freezer box in panic; the claustrophobia that was triggered by the enclosed space and suffocated his mind and body alike; the screams that left his voice broken and raw were all painful reminders of what he suffered for years at the hands of his father.
His glare darkened, a slow smirk toying on his lips. "No, dad." He put a mocking emphasis on the last word. Mr Lahey knew this was no longer his son. There was something monstrous about the way it examined him- as though he was waiting for the right moment to pounce.
Something inside Isaac snapped forcefully. Ruthlessly. Mercilessly.
Uncontrollably.
Ripples of inhumane strength and aggression coursed through whole body, a vicious snarl ripping out of his throat. His body contorted with might and fierce rage as his face morphed int one more animalistic. His nostril flared and tufts of hair formed around his jawline, while his short nails grew into razor-sharp claws. The shriek from his father brought a haughty smirk to his face, his large canines in full view. The extraordinary strength he felt was indescribable, but he knew already that he loved it.
"What t-the hell h-happened to y-you!?" His father stammered as he gawked at the transformation. Isaac paused, his expression unreadable, almost like he was actually considering answering the question.
The short, yet blissful, silence shattered as Mr Lahey charged to the door, but Isaac was too fast, too nimble and too strong. The broken glass crunched under their shoes and Isaac tossed his father with ease, hurling him across the room. A huge crack formed on the wall as Mr Lacey collapsed after being struck.
"Don't do this, Isaac," he begged, stumbling back up. "Listen, I'm s-sorry."
"Too late," came the guttural growl.
The belated apology kindled his fury and it burned straight through any compassion Isaac may once have had. Unrestrained wrath possessed him in ways he could not comprehend. But he welcomed the feral rage and indulged in his thirst for blood. His revenge finally reached breaking point and the remnant of the human was lost in the vengeful spirit of the beast.
The unstoppable animosity erupted as Isaac let out an unearthly roar, lunging at his father. He clawed and sliced the body with unrelenting, untamed zeal. Euphoria seized him as mutilated the human. The unquenchable hunger was never satiated no matter how much blood oozed on the kitchen floor, splattered on the walls, or drenched his clothes. Isaac wanted more blood. He only saw red. Strangled cries shriveled into ragged breaths as Isaac tore out his father's throat in one swift, effortless movement and crushed the bones with his fist.
How's that for spotless? Isaac thought dryly.
He realized his father's heart stopped beating and blurry vision slowly cleared, his hands starting to twitch as the claws retracted. His father's eyes were still open, blank and lifeless, but to Isaac they looked just as empty as when he was alive. His own breathing calmed down and as rationality filtered through the bloody craze, he sprung up and swayed backwards. The magnitude of what transpired sunk in and his limbs trembled.
He murdered his father.
Did he regret it? Not really. But still, the colour drained from his face, eyes transfixed on the pool of blood forming near his feet. There was only one person who could help him now.
And with that in mind, he yanked the door open, rushed outside into the heavy rain, pulled his bike up and cycled away into the night, cold sweat intermingling with the droplets of water that gushed from the dark clouds above. The frigid air whipped against his face as he pedaled past the beeping cars, not caring about the fact that he nearly got run over. The odour of his father's blood staining his t-shirt was beginning to repulse him.
The loft was dark and empty. There was hardly any furniture, save for a lonely table and oddly placed chairs. The main source of light was the moon gleaming through the large windows since the dim bulbs fizzled in the room uselessly. Floorboards creaked loudly under Isaac's urgent footsteps. To anyone the place was look abandoned and vacant, but Isaac knew he would find him here.
"Derek!" Isaac yelled between pants, racing down the staircase. "Derek!" The desperation in his voice was tangible.
"What's wrong?" A cool and collected voice responded.
"My dad... he's dead." A vestige of regret leaked in his tone, but Isaac ignored it.
"What did you do?" The tone was rightfully accusatory. Derek's eyes glowed scarlet red as he stepped out of the shadows, his brows furrowed, perturbed by Isaac's revelation.
"I killed him," Isaac confessed, his own eyes glowing a bright, icy blue, further proving his words. "I-I didn't mean to... I don't know what happened."
"Shit." And that was the first thing the Alpha muttered as he shook his head, somewhat annoyed but not furious (much to Isaac's relief). He should have expected this to happen. After all, it was going to be Isaac's first moon tomorrow night. His transformation had already taken hold of him.
"What's happening to me?"
"You're a werewolf," Derek replied, watching the confusion disappear from Isaac's face as he pursed his lips in thought. He saw a glimpse of acceptance in his blue eyes, and was all Derek needed to see.
"Don't worry, I'll help you." There was an edge to his voice, but Isaac was grateful nonetheless. He was a member of his pack which made it Derek Hale's duty to protect him.
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