#oohwhatdoesthismean

[jackjots]

#22 Silence

Wayward Guide for the Untrained Eye 30 Day Prompt

(This takes place after Episode 10)

Day #22 @30daysofwayward

(I do not own any other characters or place names outside of Shelby St. Ranger, this is just for fun)

TW: Blood, alcohol consumption. 

I took a shower and washed my blood and dirt covered clothes in the shower. I watched the dark red water go down the drain and I wondered how much was mine and how much was Trumans. I looked at my veins in my arm. How much was mine, and how much was Trumans?

After I got out of the shower, I wiped off the foggy mirror and looked at my face. I had a nice red scratch on my face, next to the puffy remnants of my broken nose. The scratch on my neck was almost totally gone, but I’d replaced the necklace about my neck, and it was starting to leave a red mark. I lifted it and touched the line. It was hot. I took the necklace off and carefully placed it back in my bag. The sting on my palms after I handled the necklace was probably in my head, I decided. I snuck back to my room in a towel holding my wet and reasonably cleaner clothes. I hung everything to dry and laid back onto the bed in my towel, not even bothering to go under the blanket. 

My body was tired, my head buzzed in the silence, and I didn’t even shut the light off before unconsciousness took over. 

I was sitting at my computer in my living room. The moon was shining through the window, larger than I was used to seeing it. I started writing, but the letters were turning up all wrong on the screen. I looked down at my hands, which were paws. 

I ran to the bathroom to see my face, but instead of mine, the hallway was the one at the Dead Canary. I went into that bathroom, but it was the kitchen. Quinn was yelling at me that I wasn’t allowed to eat meat. But all I wanted was meat. I opened the fridge but it was filled with river rocks. I slammed the fridge door and turned around to Desmond in full wolf form. “One of us.” He said in the low vibrating voice he had as a wolf. 

“Am I?” I tried to ask, but my mouth was clumsily filled with hard and sharp objects. I realized with horror that it was teeth.  

“One of us!” He yelled and I fell backward through the floor until I was laying on the ground in the woods. I heard something and turned. It was me, standing in the moonlight. I looked peaceful with my eyes closed, no scratches or broken noses in sight. When I opened my eyes and met my own stare, the other me screamed. I tried to scream, too, but a howl ripped through my chest.

I woke up covered in sweat. Although the sun was up, when I checked the clock I’d only slept a few hours. I felt dizzy, itchy, and ravenous. I slipped on damp clothes as I knew the kitchen would open soon. The cold damp actually seemed to help calm down the burning itch that was now crawling it’s way over my body. I only had to wiggle a little bit to shift the cold clothes around and calm the itch for a bit. 

I went to the bathroom and remembered my dream as I did so. I caught my reflection in the mirror and gasped. It wasn’t the wolf face I was suddenly afraid I’d seen, but actually the opposite. I looked more like myself than I had in a few days. The swelling had gone way down on my face, and the scratch was merely a mark now. This wouldn’t be easy to explain away, I thought as a knot formed in my stomach.

Why was I so worried about, essentially, coming out as a werewolf? Or possibly one. I wasn’t sure if just the little I was wounded was enough. I wouldn’t know, if I didn’t tell anyone. I considered telling Desmond, but I felt like I missed my window on telling him and now it just felt like admitting I’d lied, which was more intimidating than saying “hey I might be a werewolf”. 

My damp-pants-covered bottom slid into my usual booth. The food I ordered came out with less enthusiasm than I was used to. “Those podcast people are leaving today.” Quinn mentioned. I wasn’t sure if he was filling me in or just announcing it to the empty bar. He seemed distracted, and the food was a little less exciting than usual. I’d never had steak and eggs in my life, but it sounded so good. He had tried to fight me a little bit, but quickly let go of the vegetarian idea. “Sounds like they solved it anyway.” He’d said. “No point anymore. You know it was LSD in the water system?” The way he said it told me he didn’t quite believe it. 

The excuse was almost laughable. But as I ate the too-cooked meat, I thought through what I knew of Connor Creek, and decided it would be good enough. Probably. 

After I ate I went back upstairs and laid in my slowly drying-to-my-body clothing. A nap felt just the ticket, and it did result in dryer clothes as I blearily reasserted my existence after a few blurs of a dream I couldn’t recall.

The sun was higher in the sky and it was almost lunch time now. Eat, sleep, eat, sleep. I realized I hadn’t written down any of the events rom the night before. I grabbed my notebook and looked at my last notes about what they were saying at town hall. Should I keep recording this? I shrugged. If I didn’t, who would? 

I wrote down everything else that happened, but I used slight code wording for myself so it wasn’t so obvious. Things like saying “WW” instead of werewolf. I even included getting scratched. I didn’t plan to keep the lie going that much longer. Probably. Yes, probably. 

When I went back down, I was surprised to see every werewolf I knew of, and a few people I didn’t know very well, whether they were werewolves are not, sitting at the bar. Helen nodded at me. Olivia was deep in conversation with Rita. Sybilus was talking to...Vern, that was his name, Vern the butcher. I recognized Ags who was standing as if she was about to leave with a hand on her hip talking to Desmond over the bar. I overheard her saying she was really looking forward to experimenting with psychedelics as soon as possible. 

I ordered lunch. I knew I had a lot of work to do on my novel to make up for my missed days, and I was starting to stress out about it when Desmond dropped a beer off at my table.

“I didn’t order a beer.” I said as I looked up at him.

He was holding torn pages. “I figured I owed you one. For messing up your book.”

I rubbed my face. “That makes sense.”

“Does it? I am sorry, I didn’t realize it was borrowed.” “The library.” I grumbled. I’d forgotten. 

“You can have the pages now, not sure how much good it will do ya.” He slid them over next to the beer. He seemed to be reading my irritation as toward him, when it was really at myself for forgetting about the book entirely. Not that I could have gone to the library anyway, with my car still in the shop. But regardless, I was irritated. 

  I could smell the exact food I was waiting for; each item gave a certain odor and my mouth filled with saliva. I almost snapped: “Is that my lunch over there?” And immediately followed by. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just hungry.” 

“Seems like it.” But he didn’t seem upset. I was pretty sure I caught a smirk. It made me more irritated, this time at him. He retrieved it for me without another word.

I didn’t touch the beer until I was entirely down with my rare burger. I soaked the meat juice up with my french fries. I didn’t even use any ketchup. My appetite which usually left food to waste had me almost licking my plate clean. 

Ags left a little before I finished my lunch. She’d started talking to Sheriff Madison who came in for lunch. After Ags left I heard Sheriff Madison talking to Olivia about how the twins were gone now. 

I felt an odd little stab that I hadn’t said goodbye. But I also didn’t know them that well. 

And then Olivia said, “You know I heard their tires got slashed.”

“No, that was Shelby’s car.” Desmond interjected.

“Really?” Olivia wondered.

Sheriff Madison agreed. “Yeah. We actually kind of forgot about Paul and Artie’s car. It’s completely wild now.” 

“Well that’s odd. I swore I heard Truman,” There was a slight pause at the name, “Swore I could have heard her say something about their tires.” She laughed. “Maybe I misheard her.”

Suddenly things started to make more sense. I hardly drove into town until more recently, and if she’d seen a car she didn’t recognize, Truman could have mistaken me for Artemis and Paul. I didn’t know if she’d caused the accident, but the tires seemed entirely probable. I risked a look out at the bar and realized this conversation was happening through three other conversations on the other side of the bar. And Desmond was looking straight at me. I turned back to my empty plate. 

How had I heard that whole conversation?