Childhood

Mother had locked him in a closet had emptied. He was cramped. The lock was made of silver and it made something burn in his nose.

His blood was boiling oddly. Burning him from the inside out. His heart was beating hard in his ribcage.

Something inside him begun to creak and he screamed. Screamed so loud that glass would’ve broken. The muscles of his body was being torn and twisted. Pain was overtaking his being and he wished he would die. Just die. Just make it end. It hurts it hurts he thought.

The pain was tearing through him like a violent hurricane leaving only discord and pain behind. Every bone breaking and twisting under his skin. The sharp bones breaking veins. He couldn’t even think anymore. Pain was the only thing he was. Torturous burning agony.

He wasn’t in charge, he had no control. There was a pull to something bigger than him. A painful one. Because everything was pain. It hurt to breath, every breath inpaling his throat. Daggers were stabbing at him from every angle. It was destroying him. Things breaking beyond repair deep inside of him. All he could do was scream. Scream until his throat blead from the effort.

Death would be a mercy. A mercy he wasn’t granted. He had to suffer and there  was no getting out of it. The power over his own mind was weighing, vicious rough claws tugging at his mind. Something in the background being sick of just standing by taking control leaving him to watch in the shadows of his conscience.

Then it stopped and he was a wolf cub with chestnut brown fur with streaks of grey and golden amber eyes.

Food, flesh, hunt, blood his instincts screamed. He was trapped. Frustration was pouring out of him, into his skin as he pounded at the walls. His wolf mind couldn’t think all he needed was food. So hungry. And he could smell the rich heady scent of blood of flesh of food on just the other side.