AN: Well this is later than I thought but I fell asleep while typing. This chapter is shorter than chapter 1 because if I combined this with the next scene it would be extremely long and then ruin my written chapter system. Anyways don't hate me too much for what happens. Thank you to those that reviewed: Shadow-wolf78 and Jamesk19. Thank you to those that followed/favorited: , MistSpade, GaiaMarty21, Lea97, Put It Up To Eleven, Shadow-wolf78, and Jamesk19. You guys are the greatest. This chapter has some foul language. This chapter has 3.1K words excluding author notes, since this chapter is lacking I'll make the next one around 7-8K words. How about that? Now without further ado Chapter 2: Broken Pieces
~Warning~
Not beta'd. You can't say I didn't tell ya.
Disclaimer: oh the things I would do if I owned Teen Wolf...Stydia js
Chapter 2: Broken Pieces
Trevor carefully sat down on the couch next to the boy so that he did not jostle him, which would cause him pain. He looked broken both physically and mentally. Physically he looked as if he went through a paper shredder before the bandages. Trevor could count on one hand how many unmarred patches of skin showed through the bandages on his arms and torso. The boy had fully reclined back on to the couch, his head propped up by the throw pillow underneath. His eyes were closed to try to prevent any more tears from slipping past. Trevor watched as the boy regained a pattern of normalcy to his breathing. The boy's right forearm had come to rest over his eyes.
"Hey." This caused the arm to move from atop of his eyes to his forehead. Wet eyes stared back up at him and his face had become red from unshed tears.
"You know I can't keep on referring to you as boy." Trevor stood as he spoke.
"I don't know what you can call me." The boy turned himself so his back was touching the back of the couch. The process was slow and looked painful if Trevor could tell from his face.
"Well I could call you...-", He paused for a moment his eyes darting towards the wall of photos by the door, "-...Farren." Trevor said the name hesitantly. Trevor caught the look that the boy was giving him and backpedaled.
"It's old English for wanderer or adventurous. If you do not like it, we could think of something else. I just thought since I found you near a beach and that must've meant you came here for an adventure." Trevor's voiced had faded to above a whisper by the end of the sentence. The boy looked up at him with an eyebrow arched, his head supported by a hand underneath the throw pillow that his cheeked rested on.
"I mean you kinda look like a Farren. Well not an exact Farren, but you could pull it off." Trevor rubbed the back of his neck and walked around to lean on the armrest by the boy's feet.
Trevor was mulling over his thoughts listening to the boy moving on the couch. The rustling of clothes did not stop after a couple seconds causing Trevor to snap his head to the boy to reprimand him. The words caught in his throat when he saw the boy sitting Indian style on his cushions and staring at him.
"I really appreciate it, man. I mean you found me on the beach, I could've been a criminal but you took me into your house and dressed my wounds. Now you are offering me a name. I don't think I could ever repay you for your generosity. So I'll take the name." The boy – no, Farren – said before giving Trevor a huge grin. As much as Farren tried to hide it, Trevor could see the pain in his eyes from the smile pulling at the gashes running across his left cheek.
Trevor eyed him before responding.
"Okay man. Well I don't know about you but I'm starving." Trevor rose from his perch on the armrest and walked around the back of the couch to the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room.
"Yeah. I am thanks." Farren slowly got up from the couch. Admittedly, he had to use the side of the armrest for balance while he got his footing. He was wobbly from the pain that shot from his thighs to his feet and back up again. He stood straight and leaned heavily on the couch as he shuffled towards the kitchen.
It was a quant kitchen. The counters a cream colored granite with steel appliances and a sand colored tile floor. Trevor was riffling through the fridge for food. Farren walked two steps to the right and leaned against the countertop there. He watched as Trevor pulled out ingredient after ingredient, piling them into his arms. Farren concluded that Trevor wanted to make sandwiches, to which Farren understood, he wasn't expecting a full course meal after only knowing the guy for ten minutes. When Trevor turned around spotting Farren, he jumped almost dropping the food stacked precariously in his arms.
"Jesus, dude. Speak up. You almost gave me a heart attack." Trevor gasped out while closing the fridge with his shoulder.
"Sorry." Farren mumbled.
"I'll try to walk like an elephant next time." Farren was failing at trying to keep a serious face. The corners of his mouth started twitching up into a smirk when Farren saw the dark look Trevor gave him over his shoulder. Trevor place the ingredients on the counter.
"Ass." Trevor hissed out turning back towards organizing the food. Trevor reached into the cabinets and grabbed a plate for the both of them.
"And how are you even walking around? Your leg muscles were shredded!" Trevor dug through the drawer by his hip and grabbed a butter knife, which he waved at Farren. Trevor caught the confusion on Farren's face and switched subjects.
"Anyhow, since you're up and about you can make your own sandwich. I ain't your servant."
Farren laughed and limped forward to Trevor. He handed Farren a butter knife and plate. They both made their sandwiches in silence until a knock at the door broke it. Trevor sighed.
"I got this just continue and if you finish making it before I get back you can eat without me. It should only take a minute."
Trevor left the kitchen and walked to the front door. The door was to the left of the TV which was a flat screen pushed up against the wall. Farren blocked out their conversation, thinking it rude to eavesdrop, and focused on making his sandwich. He stared at the condiments wondering which ones he would normally like on his sandwich. Farren had already placed the meat and cheese on the bread. Farren had deemed it necessary to taste them before deciding to put mustard, mayonnaise and ketchup on the sandwich. Farren's mouth watered as he stared at his creation and his stomach voiced its approval of it. He picked it up gingerly but before he could take a bite, he heard yelling.
"It's them! They did this. We have to stop them!" Farren recognized the owner of the voice to be Trevor.
An unknown voice responded calmly: "We don't have enough people. Our clansmen have all scattered to the four corners. In some, the blood is so diluted, they don't know nor can they use it. Taking action against them could cause a war. We can't afford to lose anymore." The voice sounded exhausted.
"But…This is the fourth one! This month! The others didn't live this far but him. He's different.-" Farren winced as if the comment had hit him. "-He's already healing. W-" Trevor sounded angry, desperate even.
"If he's healing then he's turning. Becoming a part of their Pack." The man spit out the last word.
Farren felt horrible for listening in for so long. He went into the dining room, which was accessible by the door to the right of the refrigerator. The dining room was bright with the rays from the sun pouring in from the bay windows that provided Farren a view of the ocean. Farren gasped at the view. He could see for miles in the ocean and tell that the house was situated on a cliff. The water was glistening from the sunlight and the sight left him in awe. Farren placed the sandwich on the table and walked closer to the windows mainly to get farther away from the argument happening in the living room and for a better view. Farren dragged a chair to the edge of the windows grabbing his sandwich and took a huge chunk of it as he sat down. As he chewed, he listened to the waves crashing against the cliff-face. After a few minutes, Farren heard the door slam shut and he could feel Trevor's footsteps though the house.
Farren waited until he finished the majority of his sandwich before deeming it appropriate to walk into the kitchen. He was met with the sight of an angry Trevor cutting the head of lettuce with much more force than needed. Trevor had a look of concentrated anger on his face and Farren made sure that he wasn't in the range when he asked-
"What did the lettuce do to you, besides being tasteless, for you to mutilate it?" Farren smiled to himself seeing Trevor jump. Luckily, there was no loss of apendages from this joke.
"Shit! You're like a ninja!" Trevor exhaled while placing one hand over his heart and the other placed the knife on the counter.
"So. Everything okay?" Farren asked while placing the uneaten portion of his sandwich by the sink.
"Yeah just..." Trevor sighed, the tension leaving his shoulders. "..don't worry about it." Trevor told him while he put away the leftover sandwich contents. Trevor placed his plate on the bar, which was situated behind the sink. Farren watched as Trevor pulled himself up onto a stool. Farren waited until Trevor had finished chewing three bites before asking.
"Okay. So where's the trashcan or..." Farren indicated to small portion of food on his plate.
"Behind you in the corner by the glass door. Napkins are located right here." Trevor pointed to his left with his thumb before tearing a huge chunk of the sandwich off. Farren reached over the counter and grabbed a few napkins.
"Thanks." Farren breathed as he shuffled towards the silver trash can. He noticed the view from the back porch that the glass door opens to when he was wiping his hands off. He placed the ceramic plate on the top of the small wooden table.
"Can I just say that your view is awesome? I don't think I've ever seen anything like it even in my non-existent memories." Farren placed one hand on the door's glass.
Farren walked back to the sink where he rinsed and placed the plate. Trevor mumbled thanks handing his plate to Farren, who washed and placed it on top of his plate. Trevor hopped down from the stool and walked the short distance to the couch. He shoved the towels off the couch that Farren had been sleeping on. He put them on the floor and slouched into the couch turning on the TV. Farren walked from behind the bar and into the living room to partake in watching the program. Farren leaned against the back of the couch leaning on his arms. He shifted his position and caught a whiff of himself. Scrunching his nose at the metallic smell of blood and the stench of must from sweat.
"Hey. Do you think I could borrow your shower?" Farren shifted causing the leather couch to squeak and Trevor tilt his head showing that he was listening even though his eyes stayed glued to the TV. The show was about these two brothers robbing banks and killing snake people. Farren's eyes glanced back the TV and winced at the bad graphics, whose blood is pink?
"I mean I reek and even I can smell myself which is a big deal considering people can't smell their own odors. Or I don't have to. It's cool if you say no because you don't know me and I have been leaching of you and your hospitality. You gave me food and cleaned my wounds. That just gave me a thought maybe I sh-should go to the hospital then I'll be out of your hair. They could get me care and help me find my family. Just point me in t-"
"FARREN" Trevor half-yelled. Farren finally looked down to see his host's face full of concern. Trevor must have been calling his 'name' for some time for him to yell it. Farren's face started to feel hot from embarrassment of being caught rambling.
"Seriously, you need to breathe in between sentences." This caused Farren's face to burn even more. He stared pointed at the screen so he could not see Trevor's face.
"Yes. You can borrow the shower. Here follow me." Trevor rose from the couch and led Farren to the guest bedroom that was around ten feet away from the front door.
Trevor opened the door and crossed the room quickly. Farren arrived at the door to see Trevor opening the dresser on the other side the room. Trevor threw clothes to Farren over his shoulder. Farren was caught off guard when the first article of clothing, a pair of clean pants, had come flying at him and almost dropped them on the floor. Farren was ready for the next two pieces, a pair of boxers and a cotton t-shirt. Farren fumbled with the clothing when trying to catch and keep them from falling. He heard a release of air from the side of the room that sounded like a laugh and glanced up to see Trevor grinning at him while leaning on the dresser. Farren leveled him a look. Trevor motioned to Farren's left.
"There is the bathroom." The door he pointed to was slightly ajar letting Farren see that it was actually bigger than what he originally thought.
"For the time being, you stay in here. This is the bathroom." Trevor walked over to the door. "Upstairs is where I stay. Towels are in the cabinet under the sink and there is soap and shampoo located in the cabinet to your right as soon as you walk in. Take the bandages off because they are a day old and we wouldn't want them to become infected. There are more bandages and cleansing ointments on the shelf above the soap. If I were you I would be gentle when cleaning your wounds because they look like they'll hurt like a bitch." With that, Trevor slipped past Farren and went back to his original position on the couch. Farren looked between Trevor who had grabbed the remote and began channel surfing, and the slightly open bathroom door.
Farren closed the door with his foot and walked towards the bathroom door while shifting the clothes into one hand. He pushed open the door with his free hand. He was met with a bathroom that looked like it belonged in a fancy hotel. The walls were two toned, burgundy on top and gray tile on the bottom with a carved white wood stripe separating the two. The floors were white tile and the counters were a black granite situated on bleached wood decorated with black hinges. Farren hesitantly stepped into the bathroom closing the door behind him. He walked over to the counter placing the clean clothes on the counter. He stared at his reflection in the mirror following the trail of bandages that went under the waistband of his pants. He stripped off the torn sweat pants letting them drop to the floor.
He stared at himself in the mirror, his real skin was only visible in very small sections scattered around his torso. The blood on that had seeped through had become so dark it looked black and Farren's wandered down stopping at the sight of blood on his Batman boxers. Farren furrowed his eyebrows trying to chase down the rest of the thought to see if he could find out more about himself. It was as if someone took his knowledge of himself but left the everyday things like language, motor functions, and even some pop culture. He soon peeled those off too. He breathed a sigh of relief to see that his family jewels were unharmed. The next step he did was to turn on the shower – it took him longer than he expected but he eventually figured it out. While the water warmed up, he set to the task of taking the dressings off.
'This'll hurt like a motherfucker, but it needs to be done.' Farren thought as he braced himself. He gripped the top of the biggest bandage on his chest. He didn't want to use too much force to avoid opening them back up. He squeezed his eyes shut and grunted as he slowly peeled the thing off. The only sound was the tape peeling itself from flesh Farren was holding his breath. It was released when the bandage was limp in his hand. He opened his eyes one at a time to look at the wound. It stretched from his left shoulder to his right pectoral ending underneath his armpit on his side. Even though it looked deep, it had already scabbed over with a few places weeping from the taking off the gauze. The scratches on his left cheek stood out against his skin. There was four jagged lines running from his cheek bone to the edge of his mouth. He made quick work of the tightly wrapped bandages around his center. He winced slightly when they were removed; he assumed that his ribs were bruised. Next were his arms and lastly his legs.
He stared at himself for a few second until he saw the mirror fog up. He realized that the shower was on and guessing from the steam curling out of it the water was hot. He took one last look at his shredded skin before stepping into the shower hissing at the contact of water on his wounds. He scrambled to turn the water down after setting the shampoo on the rack; he wanted to be clean not get burns on the unharmed skin. He gently washed around the wounds trying not to remove the scabs from them fearing that it will prolong the healing process. Farren massaged the green apple shampoo into his hair and scalp mindful of the slashes on his back and chest. Farren yelped when he felt something on his neck sting. He reached back and wiped the shampoo off his neck. He pulled his hand back surprised to see the bubbles red.
'That is another to add to the growing list' Farren thought darkly as washed it out of his hair.
After maneuvering through his shower and not adding any new wounds to himself, he stepped out and onto the mat. He let himself dry a little allowing the wounds to close before grabbing a towel and lightly patting himself dry. He slipped on the gray boxers when he felt dry enough. Farren was about to put on the rest of the clothes when he remembered his predicament. He would need help to redress his wounds. Guilt bubbling up in his chest for having to ask Trevor for even more help. However, Farren pushed it down and called out for him.
AN: This chapter was just a big chunk of text. I couldn't split it anywhere. I didn't want to go into that much detail of his wounds because his body was literally littered with them. Any way next chapter you see the rest of the gang. YAY.
Until next Friday. Bluetears out~
