#and ive said this already but despite sharing the same body john and the werewolf look different from one another

[enniewritesathing]

memory management (🛏️1)

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(There's no way. No. No no no. Yes. That happened. It fucking happened. But why can't I remember anything? Where-- no, that's not the right question. Or maybe...)

(Goddammit.)

(Just calm down. Breathe. It happened. It happened to Vincent, not you, he thinks. But that doesn't make it less fucked up under any circumstances. What happened to me? Did anything happen? No, that happened to me too!)

(John doesn't remember anything. Just the heavy feeling inside of his chest and the fever that racked his body days before turning... or at least...

No. Something's not right here.)

(John shakes his head. It's starting to bother him; a total blank spot in his memory. Or maybe...)

(He hears The Werewolf slowly approach but he doesn't turn his way. Something's pulling at the pit of his stomach in all directions. He's not ready to acknowledge it. Not until he gets the whole thing. But what else is there?)

John: "Vin... I think... I think I'm starting to realize something."

(The Werewolf grunts.) "Do you want to say?"

(John feels his expectant gaze.) "No. Not yet. I don't know where I want to start anyway."

The Werewolf: "I can tell."

John: "--don't apologize. Please."

(The Werewolf sighs. That was too much at once.)

(He looks at John again. Why is he feeling guilty?)

John: "Vin. This bed's here for a reason. Right? What does it mean? What happened here?"

(His voice is flat. He's shocked and fighting his mind with the knowledge of what happened. He's starting to understand.)

The Werewolf: "Do you remember anything about this bed? This place?"

John: "No. No. Yes, I have seen this type of bed before." (He pauses.) "Not in the way you'd think."

The Werewolf: "Ah."

John: (quietly) "Yeah. The monitors. The lights. Someone going in and out, checking. The... the smell of the room. It's bringin' up bad feelings."

The Werewolf: "What if I told you this is where we-- I spent the most time?"

(John turns towards him.) "Really?"

The Werewolf: "This is where I was 'locked down' when there were no active experiments performed on me; also where I can be observed from a distance."

John: "Locked down?" (Now there's something he remembers.) "The comas."

The Werewolf: "Yes. So, you do know."

John: "There was something about that in our notes Brian got me when we were figuring all this shit out. I know of them. They put us in one."

(The Werewolf growls softly; that's not quite what he meant.) "What do you know of them then?"

John: "It was a way to stop turning, to stop you from taking over. There's a certain point where you can't but I don't think I've ever seen it."

The Werewolf: "That's what you were told, it was to protect you. It is true; after a point, I don't have the power to take over. It did give you a chance to resist me; in the end, you always succeeded."

John: "And what did they do?"

The Werewolf: "In the beginning, they observed. As we got older, the method became dangerous -- it was beginning to become clear that it could kill us."

John: "They observed that too. Right? Of course they did."

(The Werewolf hears the anger in John's voice. Good.) "Because of that, it gave them an idea to develop a deterrent if I were to ever break out of the coma. In the event that I do, it would overwhelm our healing abilities and paralyze me."

John: "...that doesn't make sense. Use our ability against us? How?"

The Werewolf: "Chemicals. Injected. Inhaled. There was something in them that triggered our healing factor in the wrong way. It permeated in our nerves, our muscles, our lungs, our blood vessels..."

"...it put stress on our heart trying to counteract it. To lay there, knowing each tiny movement can set the chemicals in a chain reaction; our body responds in trying to clear it and overloads itself.

It becomes a race that there's no winner to.

You're helpless in your own body and you can do nothing as it betrays you with each beat of your heart..."

"It is strong, yes. But even that has its limits; it worked but the cost was becoming too high."

(John clenches his fist over his own heart.) "You fought anyway; I don't blame you. I would have done the same. Even if it was going to kill me."

"Hmph." (The Werewolf sits on the other side of the bed, facing away.) "You say that, but I don't believe you. You can try all you want."

John: "Is that what happened? You tried everything you can think of while you were stuck here. You failed in the end."

"Right?"

(The Werewolf stares ahead. It sounds so plain and simple coming from him. Convincing even.)

The Werewolf: (growls) "If I failed, then we would not be having this conversation. For the sake of this one..." (No. He's not going to admit that. Not right now anyway. He changes his mind.)

"I need you to understand; I did not give up. At any point."

John: (quietly) "Then what did you do?"

(The Werewolf looks up.) "I knew that those observers will do anything to keep me alive and I took advantage of that fact."

John: "Did they catch on?"

The Werewolf: "Eventually; the leader did. By that point, I made up my mind."

"I made a declaration. A promise to myself. A threat to others."

("A promise to you.")

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