Discovery, Origins of a Teenage Werewolf (Ch. 2)

Chapter 2:

I searched for clues all over my room. All of my lighters were in a box under my bed. My lighter fluid was in my computer drawer. My fireproof gloves were in my sock drawer. I was beginning to get frustrated. I looked everywhere, but found nothing that would lead to an incinerated hand with no signs of being incinerated.

A few minutes later, I had an idea that seemed reasonable at the time. I flipped open my knife, grabbed the blade, and quickly pulled it out of my hand, slicing my palm open. I widened the cut and searched around with my finger. After a minute of this, I quit. I tossed my bloody knife into my laundry bin for some reason and sunk into my computer chair. It was then, staring at my hand while it bled all over me, I thought correctly for once… I forgot to charge my phone.

When I reached for my charger, I realized that my hand was drenched with blood. That’s when I wondered why opening my hand and searching through the epic laceration was my first idea. I wasn’t interested in my own stupidity enough to ponder this, so I ripped off half of my white t-shirt and wrapped it around my hand. What was left of it was pretty much a sports bra, so I just took it off. I was gonna throw it away, but I stopped in front of my mirror, speechless.

Never have I seen one of my age, let alone myself, with a body like I saw. I looked like the very image of what every scrawny kid my age wanted to look like. Even all of my acne was gone. I looked like… a man.

“Leon! What the hell is going on up there?” I should have guessed I was being loud.

I panicked when I heard footsteps coming. What would my dad think when he saw me holding a bloody shirt with a cut hand and… this THING that I refuse to call my body. I suddenly had an idea that didn’t involve stupidity. I pressed my nose into the bloody shirt and waited for my dad to walk in.

“Leon, if you’re whack- oh,” His angry tone was immediately calmed. “Your nose is bleeding.”

I brought my face up to speak. “Yeah, I didn’t like this shirt and it was the first thing I saw.”

“You don’t like white t-shirts?”

“Uh… No, I do not.”

“Why not?”

“They make me feel… whiteish?”

“Umm…” He was obviously confused, much to my advantage. “Sure, kid. Anyway, since you’re already half naked… and have been working out.” His confusion grew even more. “You can wash the moving truck. We can’t return it all muddy.”

That actually sounded fun. “Sure thing, dad. Just let me clean up a bit first.”

He left without another word, closing the door behind him. I looked at my hand. I knew that if I kept surprising myself like this I would get a hernia. My hand was perfectly fine. What should have needed weeks worth of healing and shitloads of meds was gone in a matter of minutes. I didn’t want to think about this and summarize my problems like somebody would at the end of a chapter of a story, so I just decided to fuck it and go wash the truck. I figured it would take my mind off of things.