Silence filled the midnight air as I limp my way down the alley, the color of ichor brandished through my very skin. Blood. Flesh..

Naked I found myself, in a playground outside the city, I felt wasted... dirty... unimaginably unholy... damned. The memory of the cause of this is still fresh in my mind, as remorseful as the most disastrous memory would be, yet as vivid as any picture could be. Just stinging, this is.

I was fighting along with my parabatai that day, fighting for glory, I would say. But I suppose that would remain just as a saying for me now. A damned werewolf just broke some law by admittedly crossing a Shadowhunter's territory and attacking them. Not a good choice for a midnight snack, I would just stand there and say but under the laws of the Clave, we have to get him. Surprisingly, team work is evidently shown in that situation with all his fellow wolves in their pack started growling, showing up their teeth like it's some kind of an honor to have those while we are standing just by, having no choice but to eliminate them all.

Aveda, I whispered and the angel knife in my hand started to glow while I heard my fellow, Iza, clicked a gun. Then there was a blur. Several of the men just standing a while ago transformed into their werewolf form, cornering -if creating a circle have those- us. Growls, slashes and gun shots echoed all over the place. While I slashed Aveda with every werewolf I could see, making them disintegrate into ashes, Iza provided some help by letting them experience spontaneous combustion through shooting them with silver bullets. Not any longer, the whole pack was reduced to just a half from what it is when it started and with tamer looks, the pack leader decided to back out, taking along his pack with him..

Then it hit me.

As the remaining silhouettes vanished through the woods, I fixed my gaze on Iza looking quite petrified by something about my left thigh. Flabbergasted, the look on her face suddenly turned into an expression I cannot quite describe but as I focused at the same spot she's been looking into, I felt a gush of pain and panic inside as blood is rushing down it. The bleeding is unstoppable as the flesh is merely exposed in the surface. I suddenly turned to Iza, now standing with her hands covering her mouth and tears swelling up her face. I reached for her, wanting to say it would be okay, it will just be me, some say there's a chance a bite wouldn't have any effect, none at all.. but the words are drowned in my throat as she ran away with the same indescribable expression she's got.

It was disgust.

After the remorseful night, I figured it will not be wise of me to come back to the Institute I've been into. Much more to Alicante. I know not all wolf bites result to lycanthropy but I can feel it. Slowly dying... slowly emptying all the glory I've lived for... slowly being one of them... slowly being a Downworlder.

I know how the transformation goes and yet I'm still wishing I wouldn't be affected, that I wouldn't need to be one of them, that I wouldn't need to leave being a Shadowhunter. That's when I thought wishing makes a fool out of everyone. It lets a person believe in a thing which that person very well know will not happen. It feeds out a person with false images that what he desired will come true though just by 'wishing' means the thing, you ought, is impossible.

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