Werewulf part 3
#3 of Werewulf
So here is part3, yes so soon, gotta love NaNo T.T haha i love this story, but its annoying to try and speed write it because i keep thinking for the long run and trying to make it quality for you guys! haha
Chapter 3.
Kyle waved goodbye to Quinn and her friend Analeese, who may or may not have considered him a total loser, and then boarded his bus. It had been a long day, mostly due to shouting and screaming of Badger pride, but the stranger in the back of his mind and his bazaar way or doing...everything, didn't help either. Twice that day he thought he saw him in the halls, but the real person was either tall, or had brown hair, or just wasn't wearing yellow and black. False alarms got his adrenaline pumping.
His bus driver greeted him and Kyle took his usual seat in the front, headphones already in his ears, music waiting to be selected. The boy tried to shake the thoughts of his encounter, but the only other thing that kept his attention was his home situation and whether or not Scott would be there at all, be there drunk, or be there stoned. Neither thought was fun, so he tried just focusing on the angry words of Three Days Grace.
"If you feel, so empty, so used up, so let down..." he started, not realizing he was singing in a hushed voice to a quiet bus and getting more than a few snickers. He felt a tap on his shoulder and jumped a little, turning to see Alice trying to talk to him.
Kyle swallowed a little nervous swallow, pulling the headphones from his ears on instinct, "Yeah?"
'Yeah? What the hell was he twelve? He didn't have anything better to say?! So fucking stupid!' He yelled at himself mentally.
She smiled sweetly, her spirit day clothes seeming a bit casual for her, but they didn't exactly make Honey Badger skirts and spaghetti straps in the real world, "We can all here you," she informed him kindly, going back to her book, "Thought you should know."
"Yeah Gene Simmons, we can here you rocking away like a pro!" Some tool yelled behind him, laughing, somehow thinking it was hilarious. Kyle smirked when no one else laughed, then he realized he should be embarrassed.
Blushing a bit, he offered a quick thanks to Alice and went to go reconnect to his music albeit without the karaoke. 'Smooth as silk,' he thought to himself with just a hint of sharp sarcasm.
But the rest of the trip was uneventful, and only when there were a handful of kids left did he, Alice and Jimmy get off at the corner of Fairelm and Jacobs, all three heading in opposite directions without so much as a word to each other; there wasn't really much to talk about anyway. Jimmy was a strange little kid, Alice had a life, and he was like a ghost, remembered in picture but not in memory until he was right there in front of you.
Kyle turned off the music and thought about his situation and what was going on in his life. Quality thinking he would like to believe, something relevant to his life. He laughed at how comical it was to try and put that to words, thinking just happened naturally, but pointing it out made it seem strange and foreign.
Scott was an issue, and surprisingly enough the one he wanted to focus on more, the man was a douche and he abused the hell out of Kyle and his mother when he was angry, but those snaps were few and far between. They were safe for a little while if his bruises were any indication of time. That was their lives, coasting by until the next snap, it wasn't the greatest, but it wasn't the worst either.
Unfortunately that was it for Scott, Kyle had had plenty of time to contemplate it all in the past, the stranger boy was on his mind. Fortunately, he didn't seem to be waiting at Kyle's house, the thought had not crossed his mind until the bus ride, but what if the boy had followed him home and was waiting for him? It wasn't the case at the moment, but that was in the back of his mind the entire way home.
The skinny kid slipped through his front door with natural silence, neither that man nor his mother were home yet. Kyle's mother didn't leave work for another hour and Scott wouldn't be in until around eight o clock, expecting dinner and a beer to be waiting for him.
But for a while at least Kyle was there alone; it was nice to just sit in his home without fear of parental attack. Add that to his temporary conviction that the boy wouldn't be a problem until the next day when Kyle didn't show up that night, and he could just relax.
He tossed his backpack on the old flower pattern couch of their living room, taking only a few more steps to their kitchen slash dining room, and two steps more into the bathroom. It was a small space, but at least the bedrooms were a good size, and the appliances all worked. Kyle could call Scott a lot of things, but tolerant was not one of them, and he could not stand a useless object.
After relieving himself he went to the fridge (after washing his hands of course...) and snagged leftover pizza from the box and took a quick bite before putting them on a plate, Picasso's Pizza was irresistible, and the "All Around Lovers" pizza, sporting a shit ton of veggies and meat on the perfect crust with the indescribable sauce only Picasso's made...It was too good for words, even leftovers were godly.
But the inevitable happened, and after a few hours, it was getting dark, his mother had returned home and was quietly putting together some quick meal for Scott. She hardly spoke a word to him; she had become so quiet as of late. Kyle thought back to when she would get him off the bus and quiz him cheerfully how his day was, like all good mothers did, it was like he ceased to exist.
Of course with the coming of the night the crazy ideas became even more impossible, yet strangely more terrifying even with corniness of typical horror movies like chainsaws and masks running through his head. Closet door shut, door locked and window closed he sat at his computer trying to distract himself, yet ironically still wearing the coat the cause of his fear had given him.
He pushed the thought from his head, "Nothing to worry about," he told himself, going back to his web browsing, "Nothing to worry abo..."
Kyle nearly jumped out of his skin when the door directly to his right got a knock, "Kyle sweetie, are you in there?" His mom called in. Of course the first time she decided to re-care about him was when he was jumpy as fuck. He closed his browser and opened the door, backing up the chair at his desk so she could walk in normally.
Vikki Lane was once an attractive woman; she was tall and thin with long black hair, she always had a smile, and just enough make up to be effective but not obvious. Her skin was fair and she was gentle but firm. That bastard had destroyed her.
Her once healthy face looked sunken with worry, her hair was still black but it was unmaintained and frizzy. Her lips looked pale instead of pink, and her arms were lanky to the point of disgusting. She had aged at least forty years in the last six. It was sad to notice.
"Hey," Kyle offered lamely, not exactly sure where to start.
She sat down on the bed, neatly putting her hands on her yellow skirt and gave him a puzzled look, waving a hand over her face indicating his own.
"Face paint for school spirit stuff," he clarified, getting a small nod of understanding.
"Your father is really concerned as to where you got that jacket," she stated with a little smile, trying to lighten the mood.
'Of course...'
"He can tell me himself if he cares so much," Kyle stated simply, "And don't call him my dad."
Her eye twitched, it was something that had been happening lately. Kyle had been to his councillor about it and she had said first that she wasn't a psychologist but it was probably due to stress. "Sweetie...it would mean a lot if you called him dad."
"Not to him it wouldn't, he doesn't care either way."
She let out a little sigh, "It would mean a lot to me," she let it sink in, "But really, it's bugging him, could you get back your old coat?"
Yet another reason Kyle hated that man, he played his mom like a violin. He would drop a few not to subtle hints, be either a bit more aggressive or a bit more loving, and Scott didn't have to talk to his 'ungrateful, snot nosed brat.'
"I can't actually, it got destroyed," Kyle stated simply, hearing some kind of laughter roll up the stairs. Scott had friends over, each one shockingly enough, worse than him. "How many people are over?"
"He has a few friends over, nothing I can't handle," she assured none too convincingly, her face dropping a little, "What do you mean by it got destroyed, I thought you said you traded it."
"SCOTT said I traded it, I never said anything because no one asked me what actually happened; he just assumed I did the worst thing possible and is making a big deal about it." His mother's face fell again. It was the ultimate pity and guilt trip. Kyle gave her an awkward hug from beside her on the bed, "I'm sorry. I just don't like him at all."
She had a few tears in her eyes and kissed him on the cheek, "He just has a few rough patches, but once you get to know him he's not such a bad guy."
The boy put on a brave face, she said that almost every time he spoke out against Scott, one time she even said it after he had been beaten, "I know mom, I'll give him another shot."
She smiled, and that made swallowing his pride worthwhile, too see her smile again. "Thank you sweetie." She left then, slowly, long skirt billowing behind her, arms clenched too her chest like she was herself together. Kyle watched her near skeletal legs leave him and shut the door enraged.
"Fuuuck!" he roared when he was sure she had walked downstairs and out of earshot, "Fuck fuck shit damn s-son of a bitch!" Kyle roared and then groaned. Scott had turned his precious few mother son interactions into chores that often ended in him feeling worse. He slammed his computer closed not even wanting to open the laptop again and jumped into the bed.
After kicking off his socks and pants he draped himself in his covers and closed his eyes, begging for sleep to find him and send him anything that wasn't nightmares. Even dreaming nothing was better than nightmares...
But Scott and his retarded friends were making so much noise that even sleeping away the remainder of the night would be a challenge. Kyle couldn't go down there and ask them to stop either; experience prevented him from doing so...He absently rubbed an old bruise that had long since vanished from view, but not from thought or memory. Those marks were scars.
Another loud cheer made him groan, who the hell watched WWE anymore anyways? More over who bothered cheering for one guy? Kyle rolled his eyes and got up, walking to the bathroom. There was no use trying to sleep if when you finally achieved sleep you got paint all over your bed.
He was relieved Quinn hadn't lied; the paint washed right out with the smallest amount of water and ran down the drain in a gross mix of black and yellow. Some fat ass dude burst in laughing and didn't even look at Kyle as he started to take a leak. "So drunk," Kyle muttered, not two feet from the man and still he was oblivious in his stupor.
The man finally noticed him and seemed disgusted that Kyle was there, "You Scotties boy?" he asked in a slight southern drawl.
"No," Kyle answered, face washed. He went to leave and a large arm stopped him.
"Shoot, yeah you are, tall like a string bean you gotta be!" He boomed like they were at a family reunion, his red trucker hat sat comfy on the stout man's head, his shirt advertising some bar.
"He isn't my dad," Kyle re-stated, a bit peeved that the drunk was even upstairs to begin with. He pulled away from the man and returned to his room.
"Scottyyyy!" presumable the large drunk called downstairs as he descended them, "Your kid wears make up!" he laughed all the way down, laughter erupting from the living room.
The boy swore under his breath, he was going to get a lecture tomorrow about embarrassing him in front of his loser friends now. Then the idiots started clapping. But something seemed off. Kyle sat up, trying to find out what was wrong.
There it was again, some sound was different than the applause. He whipped his head around as he heard it again, something was hitting his window.
Kyle froze, he no longer cared about Scott, and his mind was on whatever was behind the drawn drapes. He swallowed nervously waiting until he heard it again, like he had made the whole thing up, but again the sound of a stone hitting a window echoes in his room.
The darkness suddenly seemed to envelope him; his fear corrupting the peacefulness of the room, turning a place of rest into a mausoleum of despair. Shadows once sat still but now dances in impossible ways in the corners of his vision, objects seemed more foreboding, the drapes themselves were a portal to a possible hell. In the moment his fear driven mind rationalized that walking over to the drapes was hazardous because little monsters would grab him by his feet and drag him away. Another voice told him it was just his imagination and he needed to get some sleep. Yet another voice, tiny as it was, whispered to him to open the gate to hell and face his fate.
With the strength of one thousand men he lifted his legs over the bed and walked uneasily towards the window, the echoing crack that went off after his third step made him take a brief pause, but he went on his way, wading through the thickening dark pool.
Enough was enough though and Kyle threw aside the curtains and on his front lawn sat... nothing. To be quite honest it was a bit disappointing for nothing to be there, but in the light of the security lights and the street lamps nothing stood, sat, or was in any other way present on his lawn.
Surely the sounds couldn't have actually been a figment of a terrified imagination could they? One did not simply start hearing sounds right?
'No one sane anyway...'
For some reason the thought of his own insanity made him smile a bit, and with a few chuckles he went off to bed once more. Somehow when his worst fear wasn't realized paranoia and its effects seemed to all melt away into the once evil darkness. But school was in the morning, and with the clock reading just past midnight he got under the covers warmth once more and tried to sleep.
Alas, Kyle could not seem to catch a break that night with Scott's lackeys, the door received two swift knocks before it was opened without an invitation. "You can't use this room for sex," Kyle spoke to whoever it was that he wasn't facing, odds were it was Seth who had a new girlfriend every other time Kyle saw him. (This was quite often because Seth and the girl of the night would somehow always make their way to Kyle's room only to be turned away.)
"I don't want it for sex..."
The boy in the bed did not move. His eyes widened, he felt instantly like a deer in the headlights, like if he didn't move the problem would disappear. Unfortunately the method didn't always work out.
"You didn't show up to play tonight," The stranger boy continued, Kyle didn't hear footsteps, so at least he as keeping his distance, "And now you won't even look at me."
"H-how did you find out where I live?" Kyle spat out, not exactly sure where to start. "What are you doing here?"
"Are you talking to me or the wall?" Came the smart ass reply, it didn't sound angry, but annoyed.
Kyle finally got the nerve to look up and turn to face his tormentor. He was just as Kyle remembered, tall, large, and his features obscured by shadows. But Kyle had to look down at the large furry coat wrapped around himself to make sure he wasn't seeing double, the boy was wearing a carbon copy of it like he hadn't just handed it off to a boy who was scared shitless the night before.
"How did you find... who let you up here?!" Kyle managed, not sure where to start.
"I think she was your mom, she's very nice," the stranger responded casually. "As to how I found you, well that's not really important is it?"
"It kind of is, you stalker." Kyle shot back, standing up from the prone position on the bed as be better prepared if he struck back, unconsciously slipping his pants and socks back on to cover his nakedness. The skinny boy's eyes searched the intruder for signs of the knife, not that it would be particularly visible if it wasn't in his hand.
"I didn't follow you if that's what you think," the boy said quietly. "But that really doesn't matter. Why didn't you come back to play?" he sounded genuinely disappointed.
The question seemed stupid in the middle of the seriousness of home invasion, "I-what the hell are you talking about, why would I go back!?" Kyle finally noted that the boy stood in front of the door, whether or not it was purposefully to prevent escape didn't matter, Kyle could leave.
The stranger looked around a moment and then flicked on the lights. Kyle protected his eyes for a moment, but pushed through the discomfort, not wanting to be blind while HE was here. "Well I asked you to come and we had so much fun last night I thought you'd listen to me."
Kyle at long last got a good view of his captor. He couldn't have been too much older than Kyle at eighteen. He had shaggy, dirty brown hair that matched the jacket both he and Kyle wore, his pants were simple jeans, and again he wore no shoes, but his feet at least looked clean this time, he wasn't tracking mud at least. Kyle shook the thought of such a homely thought, reminding himself to focus on the important things. The kid was just a bit taller than Kyle, his bulk was just as intimidating in the light as the dark, and his face had the hints of a full beard coming in. His impish smile from last night wasn't there; it had been replaced with a sad disappointment.
"You did have fun didn't you?" the boy continued.
The words snapped Kyle from his trance, "Why would think I found running for my life fun?" He asked in a very flat voice, he wasn't exactly confident yet, but the stupid questions were helping him gain some. The guy had to be eighteen but he acted like a little kid when he wasn't creepy as hell or chasing people like a psycho.
The boy took a moment and crossed his arms, for a moment Kyle thought he was actually deep in thought on the rhetorical question, but in the end he shrugged, "I guess I just assumed I was having so much fun, you were too," he paused for a moment then nodded, "Yeah, that's what happened." He confirmed with a smile, "Now umm, if that's sorted out of the way can you come and play now?"
The two just stared at one another, the larger with a hopeful smile full of excitement and childish enthusiasm, the other with a confused and frustrated look of anger. Kyle didn't know why, but he felt a small bit of contempt for the kid, he was so care free and innocent; but he still felt a bit of fear. Kyle felt the way he imagined a wild animal trainer felt, a respect for the other, like he knew he was sort of in charge of the conversation, kind of superior, but he knew that the other could maul him to death and eat his carcass until there was nothing left but bones because the beast even resorted to drinking up the blood...That kind of respect.
"No," Kyle replied, somehow disappointed at the simplicity of his question. All day he had feared negative and painful consequences of turning down the offer and THIS is what he was worried about?! It was a vast understatement to say he was let down. It wasn't bad, just disappointing.
The boy's smile disappeared, "But why not? Normally I can make friends really fast and they do what I want them too...you wore my coat today right?"
Kyle froze, looking down at the clothing he was wearing with a sort of fearful contempt, "Why would that matter?" He took it off and tossed it on the bed, "Seriously, just leave, I don't even care who you are or where you came from anymore, just get out of my house."
The stranger crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back on the wall with a heavy sigh, "I can't do that now, I want you as a friend Kyle."
"How do you know my name?"
"Your mom," he stated simply, "But that's not the point, I'm very competitive, I hate losing, and now I want you as my friend." He shook his head, "It's kind of annoying actually, and ironic, the only reason I won't leave you alone is because you don't want me around."
"It's not called irony it's called being a dick," Kyle pointed out, "Now leave."
"I'm Duke," the boy introduced himself, holding out a large hand.
Kyle jumped back away from the hand, then realizing there was no knife in it simply looked at it like it was diseased, "I'm not interested." For some reason that made Duke smile a goofy little kids kind of smile, "What's so damn funny?" the lanky kid questioned, he was sick of Duke's games and strangeness, he just wanted the kid out of his life.
"Well, what you are saying, all this fighting back, it's a bit refreshing. Usually my friends aren't as...strong. I guess that's the word for it, they just listen and listen and listen and nothing more." The playful grin had returned, "You're different, you have some fight in you, it makes me want you more."
"I'm not a trophy, and I'm not going to be your friend if your so creepy and walk into my house uninvited."
"It was actually disturbingly easy to get in here," Duke noted, looking over his shoulder, "Your mom is kind, but she appears to be a bit too trusting; all I had to say was that I was your friend." He smiled at the last word but stared down at the floor, whether it was in thought or zoning out Kyle wasn't sure but he didn't want to interrupt whatever it was.
Kyle rocked back and forth on his feet; he was full of excess adrenaline from panic and felt like he could run a 5k. It was weird; somehow the boy really wasn't scary. Kyle had theorized the fear of the knife over the fear of the boy but this was actual proof, somehow he felt confident the boy wasn't going to just kill him, if he had wanted that, then he would have done it the night before obviously.
But stress made silence was a deafening force that made it impossible to think and the lanky kid could not stand it. "Are you going to leave now?" he asked with a little voice, "I want to get to bed."
Duke looked up with a blank expression, the one you get from people when you interrupt them from a book, the empty face of someone processing or accepting information, "I thought we were going to play first."
"You thought wrong Duke, can you please just go? Really, I need to get some sleep and to be quite honest you freak me the fuck out," Kyle groaned. The repletion was getting annoying, it was exactly like talking to a spoiled child not getting their way, minus the temper tantrum.
"Why do I scare you? I don't mean to be scary, I'm sorry if my extreme competitiveness freaked you out," he smiled another impish smile, "I love the chase."
"See, right there, who says stuff like that?" Kyle asked, "Who chases complete strangers through the woods at night and freaking jumps on top of them with a knife and calls it fun?! Who..."
"Ohhhh," the larger kid interrupted, "You didn't like the knife? I'm sorry I didn't know it freaked you out."
"It didn't," Kyle lied, "Just go or I'm calling the cops and Scott won't be too happy about that." Kyle stopped; he just used that waste of space as a crutch. Realizing it made him furious.
"If I give you the knife will you come and play?" Duke asked, feeling through his pocket and pulling out the silver handled knife, showing it too Kyle who on instinct took a step back. Duke laughed, "Not scared of it my butt, here," he tossed it on Kyle's bed and took a step back, hands up in surrender, "Can you play now and not be a wuss?"
The room fell quiet again, Kyle was staring at the knife, it lay there so innocently, a tool without the ability to act on its own. Harmless until acted upon, yet still it carried a powerful force behind it. It reminded Kyle of his vulnerability, how that simple tool put Kyle's life in the hands of the strange kid standing there. How easy it would have been to slit his throat...
"Why are you being so pushy? You don't even know me, why do you want me to play so bad and to be your friend?" Kyle asked quietly, he wasn't used to being singled out for something positive. The kid had to have a motive.
Duke smiled, opening the door, "Just come play, I'll leave the knife here and explain AGAIN on the way to the park." There was something in his voice, something Kyle couldn't quite make out, suddenly his head felt heavy even though he wasn't tired, "Bring the coat."
Before Kyle even thought about it he was picking up the fur lined coat, leaving the knife, and following Duke downstairs past the loud drunkards in the living room and out the front door.
There was something strange about the kid; he didn't seem dangerous anymore, just over the top. 'Harmless in small doses,' Kyle rationalized_, 'And besides, I need answers.'_