Waking in Hell
The first thing Sean Walcott noticed was the cold. It was an icy chill that seemed to penetrate deep into his bones. The second thing he noticed was that he was laying on a cold metal surface, naked as the day he was born, with just a thin white sheet covering him.
He immediately shot up, and regretted it. The world swam around him, and his back was on fire. He looked around, working through the murk and pain. He recognized the place instantly, he'd been to such places before.
He was in a morgue.
He put his cold hands over blue lips to muffle his scream of horror.
OhmyGodohmyGodohmyGod! I'm dead!
The rapid thumping of his heart quickly dispelled that notion, as did the rumbling in his stomach, the ache in his heart.
And the scents.
The all-too familiar scents.
His mother's perfume. His father's cologne. His older brother's after-shave that he'd always thought smelled ridiculous.
Something broke inside of him.
No. No, Fate couldn't be this cruel, this sick.
He slowly walked over to the nearest storage unit, and reluctantly opened it, pulling out the cadaver.
The face of Michael Walcott stared blindly upwards, unseeing, unmoving.
Sean pulled back from his father's corpse, pushed it back into its niche, retched and crawled into a corner, huddling naked on the freezing tile floor, and began to sob uncontrollably
He was hungry. Even with his family dead around him, he had to eat or become a monster again.
He forced himself up, muscles protesting, and went toward the nearest unfamiliar scent. It was a young woman, her neck was cleanly broken, but he didn't have the time or mental fortitude to consider how she died, only the raging Hunger inside him.
He began to feed like the starving Wendigo he was.
Once he was sated he felt sick, looking at the mangled remains. This was someone's daughter, sister, friend. But he had to eat. There was no choice.
He considered his situation.
He was stark naked in a freezing morgue. He needed clothes, and he needed to get out.
But The Mute.
The mouthless bastard was probably waiting right outside, enjoying his fear, his utter terror.
His clear green eyes flashed around the room desperately. They landed on a bag of clothing, most likely the effects taken from a recent 'guest'. They were not his, but they would cover him just the same.
After washing the blood off of himself in the sink, he went to put on the clothes. He was lucky, there were even tennis shoes in the bag. The clothes were a bit tight on him, but better than running around with his manhood on display to the world. Luck was with him again when he saw a surgical tray loaded with knives, scalpels and other tools. He hastily grabbed a large scalpel and slowly, carefully made his way to the door, praying that God would have some mercy on one pitiful young Wendigo and The Mute wouldn't be hiding in the shadows.
Sean silently gave a thankful gaze upward before rushing out. There were emergency exits, but he wasn't sure if they'd set off alarms. The cops, and likely The Mute as well, were probably crawling all over the hospital.
Especially after what he'd done to that deputy. And what about that poor boy he'd thrown off the roof? He could still see those innocent, terrified blue eyes... God, I really am a monster. He vaguely remembered the werewolf's teeth sinking into the boy's arm, keeping him from falling. He had little doubt that a powerful werewolf could pull a light teenage boy up using only his teeth, but it would be agonizing. And then what? It was unlikely the werewolf would have savaged the boy. He seemed to want to save him, though that bite had doomed him to life as a werewolf...
Wendigo don't need help, we need food!
He'd been wrong, so wrong.
He hadn't wanted to harm anyone, but he was just so hungry, so frightened, so alone. He'd lost control of his hunger, done horrible things to innocent people. His family was... He didn't want to think about that. The Mute had made it clear he was next. Was that why he was here? Was that why he had blacked out fighting the werewolf?
Oh God, was he still here?
Sean decided to chance it, he had to get out of the hospital. He pushed through a door marked 'Emergency Exit'.
Hell, it was an emergency, his life was in danger.
He was suddenly outside. There were no alarms on the door.
He could see a few police cars, not as many as he had expected. How long had he been unconscious?
He slipped into the shadows.
Okay so you're out. Now what, Sean? You can't go home, that's the first place they'll look. The first place he'll look.
'I can help you. Please, let me help you.'
He was desperate. The young werewolf had seemed sincere, but it could have been a trick to lower his defenses.
He had no choice. Nowhere to go, no one to turn turn to, and an evil, sadistic psychopath on his heels.
He began sniffing for traces of the werewolf's scent.
If he was to die, he'd rather the werewolf kill him than the monster that slaughtered his family.
He found the scent, and quietly slipped away into darkness.
The McCall house,
"Well, that went well." Stiles Stilenski picked up another wooden remnant of the newly bitten Liam Dunbar's daring escape. Part of the chair he'd broken over his poor head.
"I'm not the one who joked about burying his body in a shallow grave." Scott McCall shot back.
"No, you're just the one who bit him, kidnapped him, wrapped him up in duct tape and threw him in your bathtub. He probably thinks you're an insane pedophile into heavy bondage."
Scott shook his head, so maybe kidnapping Liam like that was a bad way to win his trust. He'd just have to try talking to him, this time.
There was an almost timid knock at the door, timid, but rapid, as if whoever it was was in a hurry.
"Maybe it's Liam?" Scott said.
"Sure. He came back here to get tied up, raped and murdered." Stiles snorted and opened the door.
Outside stood a handsome youth of slightly below medium height with blond hair and pale green eyes. He was pretty buff, and he looked like he'd been through Hell and back. Stiles heard Scott gasp in shock, then growl behind him.
Sean ignored it. He fell to his knees, sobbing. He had no pride left, he had nothing left. "Please, you said you'd help me... I don't have anywhere to turn. He killed my family, and he's after me. Please, I didn't want to do it, I lost control! Please, help me..."
"Who are you again?" Stiles asked.
To be continued...
Sean should have lived.
I wanted a story where Sean wakes up in the morgue and has no place to go, no place to hide, so he comes to Scott. This is it.