Bonded

Chapter 8

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Huh?" Greyson blinked at his very short and very mad friend. She stood in the hallway, just outside his door, hands on her hips, her electric purple hair pulled up into a line of small ponytails all the way down the crown of her head giving the illusion of a mohawk. She was dressed in a neon yellow tank top with a black and white plaid short schoolgirl skirt and a pair of black polka dot tights. A pair of black combat boots and black leather cuff bracelets rounded out her look. Greyson looked down at his Gibson Guitar t-shirt, grey sweatpants and bare feet and felt weirdly underdressed even though he was in his own home. In the investigation of his outfit, he did, however, find a Cheeto stuck to his shirt. The surprise snack lifted his mood a bit.

Rebecca pushed past him and through his apartment door to continue yelling at him from the inside.

"What the hell is wrong with you? You've been avoiding everyone for a month! You canceled band practice twice, and now you canceled a gig! Greyson, for fucks sake, what is going on with you?"

"Oh! Right! That.... Yeah. Whatever." He slurred at her.

Rebecca took a moment to gape at her friend. "Greyson, are you drunk?"

"Yup." He popped the p for emphasis.

Rebecca counted the empty bottles lying all over the floor. "Grey, how much have you had to drink?"

Greyson leaned down to her and whispered conspiratorially, "A lot. It must be one of my fancy new werewolf powers. Becks, I can hear conversations in the building across the street." As if suddenly bored by the conversation, he wandered off to his bed and flopped down the mattress. "Sucky part is the drunk doesn't last long. I can feel the sober coming. That fucker."

Rebecca walked over to the bed so she could stare down at her friend, "Grey, no one hates sobriety more than me, but this isn't like you."

"I can see straight up your nose." Sober Greyson had yet to make an appearance.

"Yeah? Anything good up there?" She leaned down further so he could get a better look. Rebecca planned on making sure she took full advantage of her friend in his current state.

"No!" Greyson threw his arm over his face in dismay. "Of course not! Girls are too perfect to be that gross!"

Rebecca shrugged her shoulders. "If you say so." She plopped down on the mattress next to him. "Are you gonna tell me what this is all about?"

Greyson sighed heavily. "Amanda broke up with me."

"What? What happened?"

"I told her I was a werewolf and then asked her to marry me." Even with his face still hidden by his arm, Rebecca could hear the defeat in his voice.

"Are you insane?" Rebecca jumped up off the bed. "You swore me to secrecy because you think you are in danger and then you go around and tell her? AND you asked her to marry you? Have you hit your head recently? Do you see spots? Have you lost your over-protective, it's my way or the highway, SEVENTEEN-year-old mind of yours? What would possess you to think that that was a good idea?"

Greyson exploded off the bed and onto his feet facing her. "BECAUSE I WANTED IT! I wanted it ALL! And this was my only chance! I know you think it is stupid, but I want the house and the picket fence and the kids playing on the lawn. Amanda loves me! Loved me. Probably loved me." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "She loved me before I found out about... my inner animal. Apparently, having a werewolf for a husband is not exactly in her life plan. She was my one chance. What other woman is going to love a man who sheds on the couch? Which date do you tell a woman that your kid might have a tail? The 3rd date? The 5th?"

"What happened to never telling anyone?"

"Exactly. This is it for me, Becks. I am going to be alone forever."

"Greyson," Rebecca's tone was soft and full of sympathy. "You don't know that."

Her sympathy made him inexplicably and incredibly angry. His hand shot out to grab her upper arm. He pulled her close to him so he could get in her face. "Yes, I do know that. What I don't know is who... or more accurately what I am." He expected her to yell at him. He expected her to call him an idiot. He didn't expect her face to go deathly pale and her eyes to go wide with panic. Then the smell hit him. It was faintly metallic and overly sweet. He looked down and saw it. Blood. Bright red blood. Her blood. A lot of her blood. It slid down her bare arm, hitting the floorboards with little splats and splashes. Terror and adrenaline shot through his system. He removed his hand from her upper arm to figure out what happened, where the blood was coming from, only to have his terror increase tenfold when he saw his fingers had transformed into claws. Werewolf claws. His fear only increased as he watched the claws slowly retract leaving him with his normal hands. His blood covered hands. He had done this. His worst nightmare had become a reality.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm sorry! Don't move, Becks. I'm going to go get a towel or something. I am so so sorry! Don't move!" He didn't wait for her answer; he ran to the kitchen to find something to use as a bandage.

"Greyson! You crusty fuck puddle! You canceled..." Devon burst into Greyson's apartment ready to tear him a new one for canceling their latest gig. He didn't expect to find Rebecca standing in the middle of the room, alone and covered in blood. "Doll Face?"

"Dev?" Her voice was small and confused.

Greyson ran out of the kitchen with three towels in his hand and a look of barely contained hysteria on his face.

"Greyson? What the fuck happened?"

"Devon? Thank fuck!" He wrapped the towels around Rebecca's arm as best he could with shaking hands. Then moved her arm so it was straight up in the air. He looked into her eyes. They were glassy and confused. Why wasn't she screaming at him? Why wasn't she yelling at both of them to get her some help? "Hold your arm above your head, okay? It'll slow the bleeding." He tried to sound calm. He tried to make sure that his internal terror didn't spread to her. Once she was holding her arm up on her own, he shoved her at Devon. "She needs to get to the hospital. Now."

Devon's caught Rebecca around her waist. "What? You want me to take her?"

"Yes. Go. Now."

"What about you?"

"I'm not the one bleeding, Devon! Get her to the goddamned hospital. NOW!" Greyson's roar was enough to have Devon taking a step back and pulling Rebecca more firmly to his side.

"Come on, Doll Face, let's get you patched up." Devon shot Greyson one last, confused look, before ushering Rebecca out of the apartment and to the nearest hospital.

Greyson closed the door behind them and leaned against the wood. He scrubbed his hands over his face and took a few moments to get his breathing under control. He was living his worst nightmare. He hurt his best friend. The rooms still smelled like her blood. He was right when he told Rebecca that he was a violent, blood crazed creature. This just proved it. It was only a matter of time until he hurt someone he loved even more. It was only a matter of time before he killed someone. He had to make sure that when he finally snapped, he was far, far away from anyone that he loved. Once his heart didn't feel like it was going to burst out of his chest, he pushed himself off the door and went to his closet. He pulled down a large duffel bag. He spent about ten minutes throwing the few possessions that he thought he would need into the bag. Once that chore was complete, he took one last look around his home before grabbing his guitar case and duffel and heading out the door. He didn't know where he would go, but he knew he couldn't stay here.