Lycan Rising Chapter 4

Chapter 4 – Back Home

I eagerly jump up the front steps and try to open the door. It’s locked.
I knock on the door and shout into the house, “Open up, it’s me, Owen!”
I hear people move inside and someone approaches the door. A large silhouette is cast onto the curtain covering the windowpane beside the door. It has to be Max, my father. I haven’t called him father in a long, long time.
“Max, open the door it’s me.” I say to him. He just stands there unmoving for moment. I can tell he is thinking.
“Owen is dead. Who are you?” he responds cool and calmly with no emotion in his voice.
“Come on, I’m alive. I don’t know why you think I am dead but just open the door and you can see for yourself,” I say with hint of annoyance.
I have never been a person with much patience and having to plead with him to open the door is starting to get on my nerves. I hear the other person move towards the door. I can’t quite hear but they say something to the man I assume is Max. He pulls the curtain back slightly and peers out at me. I was expecting a reaction or something that showed relief. I don’t know how long I have been missing but I know it’s long enough for them to have been worried. Instead he shakes his head and cold eyes stare at me. His face shows no emotion. He reaches over and opens the door. Something is wrong. I wonder if he is still upset about me leaving home.

I enter the house but I can tell something is not right.

My mother and I had always been close. Sometimes when I was growing up I felt as if Max was jealous of how close my mother and I were. Often when he and I argued she would side with me making him even angrier. One of the traits we share is our temper. Whenever he would get angry it usually got physical. He called it “character building” or “educating.” At times it seemed like every week brought a new lesson. But really it was just abuse. There were many days I stayed home from school because I was too sore and bruised to go. The only thing that kept me from running away was my mother’s love and I worried what would become of her if I ever left.

But you can only take so much and I reached my limit one day after graduating from high school. Max and I had an argument because he wanted me to go to a university but I wanted to become a writer and travel the world. Instead of doing what I usually do. I decided I would no longer stand for his school of hard knocks. I fought back. He was furious. But instead of fighting me he told me to get out. I left and I had not looked back. This is the first time I have spoken to my father since.

Standing inside the entryway I look around. The house looked disheveled and odd. I remembered the house well organized and always clean. My mother was a bit compulsive when it came to cleaning. She always said a clean home is a good home. In hindsight I think she cleaned in order to distract herself so she didn’t have to think about my father “educating” me with his fist. Something was definitely wrong.

The other person was, as I thought, my mother. But she stood just inside the living room with her eyes staring at the floor as if she was hesitant to look at me. Her behavior is different than what I would expect. I am her son, her only child. The son she would kiss good night before I went to sleep. And the son she would insist on hugging before I left for school each day. But now she won’t even look up at me.

“Ma, it’s me, Owen. I’m home.” I call to her softly. I try to walk to her but Max stood as solid as a wall between us. He is a large man. He can be an unmovable foreboding force if he wishes to be. He is a blacksmith and farmer. The hours working metal and tilling the fields had given him large muscles head to toe. Muscles I had felt all too often.

I try again, “Ma, I’m home.” This time she looks up but even though she is looking in my direction it feels like she doesn’t see me. She looks empty like there is no life in her body.

This time I speak at Max, “What is wrong with her? What have you done to her?” I feel myself getting angry.

His anger is instantly apparent and his eyes widen with rage, “What have I done to her? How dare you. I have never done anything to her. I have always loved her. But the woman I loved is no longer here. It was bad enough when you ran away after high school. But she eventually got over that because you sent her post cards and kept in touch. But then you disappeared somewhere in the Alps two and half years ago.”

I whisper to myself, two and half years…

Unaware or indifferent of my reaction he continues his rant, “We spent all our money on searching for you. We had to sell the animals and take out mortgages on the house. Then we sold our cars and both went to Europe. Our crops, our livelihood died. No matter where we looked or whom we talked to we couldn’t find you. Eventually, we had to call off the search and we all assumed you were dead. For God sake we had a funeral and buried an empty coffin. Where, the HELL, were you? Your mother could never accept you were dead. I had to put her into the hospital and get her meds for depression. She’s never been the same since. Now you show up and want everything to be…to be okay!” His eyes were full of tears ready to burst but he would never do that. For men don’t cry. One of the many lessons he tried to beat into me.

For a second he pauses and then addresses me once more, “Well, where WERE you? What, the HELL, happened?”

I look up at him towering over me. He only had four inches on me, but his mass always made it feel like more. Finally I find words, “I don’t know.”
My answer just serves to make him angrier, “You don’t know? How can you not know where you were for two and a half years?”

I look down and stare at my feet. I begin to fidget and try to remember, “I don’t remember. The last thing I remember is exploring the Alps and making notes for my travel-blog.”

At that moment my mother’s eyes widen as if finally recognizing me. She falls to her knees and screamed into her hands. I could see tears streaming down her face. I try to run to her but Max catches me with one hand and tosses me backwards. I fall backwards, down onto my ass.

I can tell his anger is reaching its peak. He yells down at me, “Don’t you get it? It’s your fault she is like this. She’s having a mental break down. She finally accepted your death and now you show up here. You should’ve never come home. It would have been better.”

I don’t really hear a single word out of his mouth. All I can think about is him preventing me from going to my mom. He must have done something to her. This isn’t my fault. It must be his. I can feel my anger rising.

Then it begins.

My nails grow longer and sharp. They scratch against the stone tiles beneath me. The sound is deafening. My whole body screams out in pain. I can see Max’s face change instantly. First, shock then fear. I can see myself in the mirror next to the door. My body is changing. What is happening to me?
“AHH!!!” I scream out in pain.
My face is shifting, elongating. I feel the bones changing and my skin stretching.
“AHHH!!!”
My teeth are getting longer and sharper. I bite my tongue as it hangs out of my mouth
“AHHH!!!”
My legs, they’re bending and my feet are stretching.
“AHH!!!”
My clothes stretch and wrinkle as my back arches and my body changes under them. I smell the remnants of dinner on Max’s breathe. It’s steak, potatoes and gravy. I rip the clothes away from my body. And stand on all fours and shake my fur. All the pain is gone. Just rage remains. The energy and strength I feel rushing through my body is exhilarating. It’s like a drug. All my senses are sharp. Max, the symbol of impenetrable wall is no more. He replaced by just some I loosely describe as prey.

I hear a voice in my head, attack, bite, and slash, kill them. Draw blood. Show him who is stronger. Show him who the alpha male is.

Max stands tall and gathers his courage and strength. I pounce on him and slam him to the ground. I easily over power him. He crashes backwards into the living room. He recovers quickly and stands up. Shock and fear is on his face. I can smell his fear it makes me hunger for his blood.

He backs up slowly keeping himself between my mother and me. How dare he keep me from my mother? I pounce once again this time he crashes into the coffee table. I push down on his on his arm and listen as it snaps. He screams out in pain. It’s music to my ears. The smell of blood rushes to my nostrils. I breathe deeply the scent is delicious.

A vase crashes into my head and my ears ring. I look back and my mother is standing getting ready to throw a wall clock at me. Why? Why is my mother throwing things at me? Why is she trying to hurt me? She lets lose and the clock hits my side. It hurt. She hurt me. I turn away from Max and growl at her. She seems unafraid and determined to stop me.

She yells, “Beast, monster, leave my husband alone.”
I slowly circle her and she gets ready to throw a snow globe at me. I run towards her and jump. I land with my paws on each of her shoulders knocking her down to the floor with a hard thump.
She continues to scream at me, “Monster, beast, animal, get off of me! Max help me! Get this thing off me.”

Monster? I’m not a monster. How can my own mother think I’m a monster? I can’t take it. I growl at her but she won’t be quiet. Be quiet. I rake her face with my claws but her screams don’t stop. Bite her. Bite her neck that will shut her up. I wrap my mouth around her neck and rip out her throat. She is finally quiet. The blood squirts out of her throat and sprays the walls and furniture.

“Monster, you killed her.”
I turn and look at him. He’s standing behind the sofa. He hopes it will afford him some defense. It won’t. I easily leap to him landing on the sofa. I step over the top and stand on my two hind legs. I step forward and he backs up against the wall. I can tell he is trying to keep a strong front up, but I can tell he is terrified. He holds up a kitchen knife hoping it will protect him. I bare my teeth at him and growl. He step back and slips on his own blood dripping from his broken arm.

I pin his two arms down with my hind legs and grab one of his legs as they flail about. Snap I break one at mid calf. I grab the other and laugh. Snap… it is also broken. The pain is too much for him and he passes out from the shock. Now he is no longer a threat. Now he knows his place and who I am.

I walk over to the middle of the living room. This is my den now. I feel so... so tired... I lie down and fall asleep to the sound of rain falling down onto the roof and windows.