Thump thump thump. Thump thump thump. The organ within my rabbit's chest never disappoints me with reducing it's accelerated rate. It has a rhythm to it that makes my own heart flutter with excitement.
I gaze into the teenager's frantic eyes as they dart around, looking for an escape route, trying to formulate some sort of plan. His breathing is becoming shallow and strained the more I let the panic sink in. That is, until his eyes finally set on the ground near his feet.
He pauses a moment, a look of retaliation spreading across his face, before he looks back up at me. Is he about to do what I think he's about to do? The boy looks back down, fingers twitching with anticipation, confirming my assumption.
He's going to make a run for it. Not only that, but he's going to fight back. I thought he'd lost all his nerve on the trails but it seems he still has enough of it to face me.
With a final glance in my direction, the boy quickly kneels down, grabbing a fist full of the earth. He turns to throw it in my eyes when I catch his wrist, twisting it painfully. He lets out a yelp as the dirt and rocks slip through his fingers. Still clutching his arm, I stand up forcing him up with me. "Are you not having fun, little rabbit?" I sneer.
The distressed expression he wears contorts with anger as he glares back at me. "Fuck you," he grits out before spitting in my face.
Taken aback, I turn away, my jaw tightening as I glower into the distance. I can feel my blood begin to boil, my nose flaring at every hard breath I let out. I reach up, cleaning the dribble off with one swipe of my hand.
I'm going to make him regret that.
Shoving him back against the tree with force, I cause him to lose his balance. I can see the fear in his eyes as he leans on the trunk, unsure of what he might have just done.
My growl rips through the quiet night as I raise my clawed hand, ready to strike. My little rabbit barely has time to turn away, lifting his arms to shield himself, before my claws come down and make contact with his shoulder. I tear through the sweatshirt easily, breaking skin beneath.
He yells out in pain, his knees buckling underneath him as he falls to the ground. He cradles his arm, obliging me with more tears. Seeing him like this is so pleasing that I almost forget his little misdemeanor.
BUT, I'm still not content enough with his punishment. I said that he will regret it, and I don't think he's at that point yet.
Smirking, I strike him again, this time meeting his back. My stomach flips as he cries out, and I can't help but laugh in response. I've truly brought the terror back and slammed it right into him.
I'm nothing but gleeful as my little rabbit tries to scramble away from me, sobbing uncontrollably. It's great! Even his whole body is shaking. But does he really think he can get away from me? No, I'm sure he doesn't. I've noticed that he's too smart to actually think something so absurd.
I grab one of his legs tightly, digging my claws into it and aggressively taunt, "little rabbit, where do you think you're going? I'm not done playing."
The sweet melody of his screams are all that answer me. They drown me into a state of euphoria until they stop, replacing themselves with his grunts and heavy breathing. He clenches his teeth, preventing his distressed song from continuing.
I pull him towards me, filled with need for an encore. Again! Again! Please make that lovely tune again!
I bend down to grab him by his sweatshirt, hoping that I might be able to squeeze it out of him when he flips himself over and kicks me frantically in my nose with his other foot. I release his leg and grab my nose with a roar of pain as I fall back onto the ground, my vision being consumed by patterns of black and dark red mixtures.
—
The sound of someone jumping up and running away is the first thing I hear as I come to. I groan as I hold my nose, opening my eyes to see a clear patch breaking through the tops of the trees and showing the twinkling stars in the deep blue, night's sky.
I've come to the conclusion that my nose is definitely broken. I'm not too worried though. It will probably heal within a few minutes.
What I am worried about, however, is why it is broken. What's my wolf done now?
Staring up into the night while things shift back to their rightful places in my face, I mull through my more recent memories.
I came out to the woods. I walked for miles, waiting for night. I listened to nearby animals, trying to help my wolf with deciding what his prey might be tonight. Night fell. I shifted…Wait. I began to shift, but stopped.
Shit! The boy! There was a boy.
I shoot up to a standing position so fast that I lose balance and fall straight back down to my hands and knees. My head spins, uncontrollably and I do all I can to keep myself from throwing up. Especially when I notice droplets of red smeared on the leaves in front of me. Oh, I think I might faint. My limbs feel so weak that they could just collapse right from under me.
Sealing my eyes shut, I begin to chant.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
I know this is usually used to prevent myself from shifting, but I found it's also useful when I just need something to concentrate on and get my mind off of other things. So for now, I'm using it to keep myself grounded.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
Alpha. Beta. Omega.
God, I don't have time for this!
My eyes begin to water with frustration.
I need to know that this kid is ok. Is he managing to get away? Does he need help? Did he get so far and then fall prey to his injuries? ….Did he die? Did I kill him?
A tear strolls down the side of my face and wears itself down before it can fall. It gives me a minuscule amount of relief to help fight the grief I'm feeling.
I can't let my history repeat itself.
As everything in my equilibrium settles back down, I open my eyes again. I stand up a little faster than I probably should have…again…too frantic to begin my search for a body. You can say I'm very doubtful for any good news. Life has taught me not to be very hopeful in these circumstances.
My head snaps in every direction as I listen to anything within range. I would use my nose to try and sniff out his scent, but it's too clogged with my own blood to smell him even if he was right in front of my face. I consider calling out for him, but that idea is quickly thrown out the window when I realize that if the boy is still alive, my voice is probably the last thing he wants to hear.
Shaking my head, I let out a quivery breath.
God, what did I do? I'm the definition of a monster. I should be able to control this by now.
Well, you know what? After tonight, I'm done. He isn't getting out again. I'm going to lock him up every full moon. He's not going to get the control he wants. He's not going to get to hunt. He will never again get the freedom of being able to run through woods with the leaves crushing underneath him.
No. No more chances. He's done! My wolf is officially grounded for life.
A call for help in the distance grabs my attention from my thoughts. Apart of me is comforted in hearing the boy's voice, meaning that he isn't dead, but apart of me realizes the fault here.
You've got to be kidding me. Is he stupid? What if my wolf was still in control instead of me? Granted, my wolf would have been able to find him anyway, but still. Say my wolf didn't know where he was. That would have definitely given away his position.
Lucky for this kid, I'm in control. And lucky for me, this kid is alive. Waving off his slight naiveness, I decide I'm actually very grateful that he called out. I feel so much better now that the sinking of grief isn't weighing on my chest.
Walking towards his shouts, I hesitate in my tracks. What if I only make things worse by going to him? My wolf got out earlier. Will he be able to do it again?
No, it's too risky. He will have to figure it out on his own.
Beginning to walk in the opposite direction, I stop myself, remembering that the boy doesn't have a clue where he is. He's lost out here. That's probably why he's calling out for help. Not to mention, he's hurt pretty bad. Bad enough to leave a blood trail…
If I'm able to control my wolf, it still might not do any good. Even if all I wanted to do was help, the boy won't trust me. He only saw me while I was wolfed out; but with my clothes, the dried blood surrounding my nose, and the sound of my voice….he would know that I'm the wolf. He would be right to not accept my help.
Taking a few more steps forward, I stop myself again. There's no way he's going to get out of these woods in the middle of the night when he can't see anything and he's probably bleeding out. I'm going to have to help him whether he likes it or not.
Turning around, a wave of uncertainty hits me and I stop myself yet again. No, it will only make it worse. He will figure it out.
Pulling back, I repeal my thoughts of going anywhere near him. He doesn't need me. He can do it on his own. What I do need to do is let him do it on his own and never see him ever again in his or my lifetime. That would be the biggest courtesy I can ever do for him.
I'm sure of this as much as I can be sure of anything. Don't go near him. Go home. Don't go near him. Go home. Don't go near him. Go home!
Another shout for help reverses all the progress I just made in doing what I think would be the right thing to do.
"Dammit." I mutter to myself. I can't leave him there. It's my fault he's out here in the first place. I about-face to go and find the poor boy, hoping that I don't fuck this up.
