Trials of the Bitten

Part 1

The day Martin's cousin died was the day he learned how twisted his uncle had become. Years after, Martin would wonder how much of the events of that day had been planned or if it had all simply been an accident. That they had pushed the man too far and made him lose his last grips of control of his primal instincts. 

It didn't change what had happened.

Katie was dead, her blonde hair stained with blood in a puddle of blood. She looked like a broken doll, her arms and legs bent around her. She was still wearing his hoodie and her skinny jeans. Only hours before, they had been dancing at a concert with all their friends. Singing along and dancing. It had been so fun. Then they had made the mistake of heading home. To her home, his mum having set it up with his aunt that he could stay the night.

"You're a monster," Martin whimpered, curled into a ball in the corner, watching through the bars of the cell while cradling his arm. He had tried to stop it. He hadn't just sat back and watched him do that to Katie. His efforts hadn't been enough.

"I am," agreed his uncle, looking sadly at his daughter, blood running down his own arms. It dripped from his deformed hands onto the hard concrete ominously. "I didn't want her to die," he whispered heartbrokenly. "I thought if I recreated it, it would work on her too," he said almost in explanation of his actions.

Martin felt about to throw up. His uncle looked genuinely heartbroken over killing his daughter. "What happened to you?" He demanded, unsteadily rising to his feet. His good hand pressing against the concrete wall for support. It was cold. They were underground in the cellar. How the man had built a makeshift dungeon down there without his family noticing was beyond him. With the cell door closed, even if his uncle tried to reach through the bars, he wouldn't reach Martin. Even with those hands.

Of course, the man didn't need to try. The lock was on his side after all. Still with how insane he was being...

"Happened a few months ago. At the base," his uncle said dreamily like he wasn't really there. He almost sounded like he was in shock. "Did they tell you? I got attacked by someone," he explained, his eyes still glued to his daughter's body. "I thought..." The man trailed off before his head snapped over to Martin. "Maybe you can," he said darkly, his voice taking on a dark husky sound.

The hairs on the back of Martin's neck began standing up at the implication that had been given. His uncle had failed to turn his wife, to turn his daughter and now he was going to try to turn his nephew. Time seemed to move strangely after that and for one moment, nothing moved. Then from outside was the howl of a wolf. It made Martin jump in shock, crying out in pain at the action but it broke whatever moment had passed.

There was a dark smile, the man's eyes not focusing properly, instead turning almost black. He said nothing, just stepped forward and away from the body. Things got blurry from there. Martin knew he had begged the man not to do it. He knew his uncle had said nothing. He remembered to creak of metal as the cell door was forced open. He remembered the pain of his hurt arm being yanked on to pin him to the wall. He remembered the burning pain as sharp teeth ripped into his shoulder, then was darkness.

A monster was born. A monster that was hungry and howled to the moon.

---s---

Waking up after a full moon was never a pleasant experience. When Martin came to awareness there was always evidently a set of stages. The first was a floating feeling of waking up from a deep sleep when he hadn't realised yet what had happened. That he had been in a deep sleep because something else had been in control. When that clicked, horror would fill him. The horror which quickly turned into shame and guilt that it had happened again and he had still not found a way to stop the shift.