25| lupus marcus

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Fear is a funny thing.

It's one of the body's most natural emotions, after all. We fear death. We fear life. We fear love. We fear loneliness. Sometimes, we fear spiders or rulers or specifically shaped peanuts. Sometimes, our fear is so great that it develops into a phobia; an all-consuming and let petrifying state in which you cannot bear to be around what terrifies you.

What do I fear?

I fear change.

But how does one fear change, you wonder, when they've never had a stable life?

I've never had a place to call home. From what I remember, most of my memories include the familiar zipping and opening of a suitcase. Rwanda to Hong Kong to Athens to Rome. Place after place, relationship after relationship. The lack of stability begins to throw you off and you learn that it's better to blend and be quiet. Silence won't let you get attached. Silence won't let you hurt.

They didn't cuff me.

There wasn't a hint of restraint on my body as I trotted lifelessly down the hallowed halls of the foriegn Whammy's House. The stillness of the building was unquestionable. Nothing filled the stale, crisp air but the sound of freshly shines heels clacking on the tiled floor. Extraordinarily quiet, wolves were. Still, I could hear it. The soft screams of a past torture; the cries of wolves across the years breaking the silence of my near addled mind.

Do I want to be a wolf?

Do I really? I have long accepted the Pack as slowly becoming a new home for me, but that was when I was human. Did I really have it in me to become like that? Half animal? Half..monster? I had never met a werewolf who had been forcibly turned--only those born with the werewolf gene. Did I truly have the strength to survive this?

And--most likely--I didn't? Am I prepared to die? Knowing that I would become another unfortunate soul who never got the chance to make his mark on the world, to have an impact or even to live? Knowing that I was not gifted the chance to experience and survive through all life's ups and downs, its tragedies and triumphs. Am I prepared to die knowing that I will leave behind a woman who will blame herself for my death? And who, due to my passing, would fade away in a cloud of despair and self hatred?

The strange black liquid was rearing its ugly head one more. It apparently wasn't a paralyzing agent but some sort of drug that aided the Trail. Apparently, it also fucked up your emotions. My heart beat wildly in my chest as tears began to gather in the corner of my eyes.

A soft hum began to escape the bald man's lips next to me. "Wolfy, wolfy, wolfy, wolf," he chimed, surprisingly in key. "Someone's gonna be a wolfy today?" I let out a sharp breath. He takes his manicured finger and points at my chest. "That's somebody's gonna be Marci, Marci, Marci, Marcus!"

A peal of laughter escapes his narrow chest. "I love singing, it just takes the edge off you. Don't you agree?"

I say nothing as he leads me towards a large grey door. My heartbeat quickens and my breathing grows labored.

"I'm going to be a good little boy," Stamos retorted suddenly. "And give you a choice."

"Either I tell you what you're about to face in the Trail and you go in a little prepared.."

I raise my eyebrows in anticipation. "Or?"

"Or, you decide to tell me to fuck off and you go in blind. Make a choice. You've got three seconds."

"What's gonna happen?" I inquire immediately, leaving no room for thought. I notice that my voice is bleak and soulless, devoid of any cracks of anger or fear. He smiles a dark, sardonic grin and I shiver involuntarily, the chill of the building finally hitting me.

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