Chapter Text
Orel found himself awake in his bed, heaving and sweating profusely. Memories of growing fur and claws flooded his mind, alongside memories of him scaling buildings, growling and howling, and making a mess in Doughy's house. The full moon haunted him throughout all of it.
His grip on his blankets tightened and he slowly recognized that he was in his bedroom. It was morning. The blanket warms him up against the cool spring air, grounding him to reality. He's home. It was all just a dream.
But his head was throbbing. Like he was thrown around like a ragdoll in his sleep, somehow managing to not wake him up from not so peaceful slumber. It made him want to cuddle the blanket further and lay in bed. He couldn't recall the last time he felt this bad. Orel, as opposed to his family, loved waking up in the morning and getting ready for what the day had in store, but today it was like he was out of energy.
He could remember one time he woke up not feeling well. It was not as painful as today, but he woke up with a headache and a swollen throat. His mom noticed his stuffy red nose and brought him back to bed with tea, and later came back with soup while his dad occasionally checked in on him. The tea warmed his belly, not in the way his brain felt like melting, but in a way that warmed his body like he was being hugged.
“Maybe mom can…” He was about to finally get off the bed, but he turned his head towards the window. The last time he tried to go to his mom for something this early she told him off about him needing to mature. Would she take a nightmare induced headache seriously?
“I'm too old to be crying over headaches.” His father also had to tell him to be more mature. His father's voice rang in his head, telling him not to bother his mom. He wished he could be more mature. The last time he tried, he got in trouble for taking his dad's drinks. He saw his dad drink all the time, he assumed that had to be how he was able to be mature. Turns out the drinks are something only mature adults can indulge in. He wondered how someone could indulge, the headaches he got in the morning were almost as bad as his current one.
Looking at his right hand, he finally noticed how messy everything was.
“... Why is my bed so dirty?” There were remnants of dirt and twigs everywhere. Even his shirt was covered in mud.
“Why am I so dirty?” He barely had time to process why he wasn't in his usual pajamas before a familiar voice shouted at him.
“Orel!” He's not sure where he came from, but his father yelled at him while towering over him. “Good, you're awake!”
He respected his father dearly, but moments like this made him afraid of him. He knew it wouldn't be long until the belt.
“Do you have any idea of all the trouble you caused?!” But Orel didn't do anything wrong. He literally just woke up. Trying to recall anything from the last week, he couldn't see anything that would cause this kind of reaction from his enraged father, who was nearly snarling from his words. Orel hoped he would explain what he did wrong, but instead he just got closer into his face.
“I told you to never go out if there was a full moon!” Orel can recall that order, but he never disobeyed it in reality. His father seemed to only get angrier at his confusion, tightening his hand into a fist and getting his face directly in front of Orel’s.
“Why can't you follow simple orders-”
“Stop it!” The boy instinctively pushed his father off of him out of fear. He would've already been afraid from disrespecting him, but he was also confused when he saw his father hit the door. Did he really have that kind of strength? He stared at his shaky hands.
“Don't you dare push me again, you know exactly what you did! What if other people saw you?” His dad continued to rant as he staggered back up. Orel was lost in his head, trying to figure out what was happening.
“... thankful that I picked you up from the middle of nowhere and brought you home.”
“Dad… what are you talking about?” He looked up at his father. His father stopped ranting and looked down at him in silence.
“You… don't remember?” He finally said after a moment. He had a smirk on his face, not like he was happy, but as if he was scared and tried hiding it.
“No… I don't think so?”
“So you don't remember disobeying me by going outside last night, of all nights, and running around like your tail was on fire?”
“No…” He could recall something similar, but that was from his dream last night. Nothing like that happened in real life as far as he could recall. It seemed like Orel’s response made his dad back away for a moment before wearing a more familiar expression. An expression he had on his face while he was teaching Orel lessons.
“Well, son, there's no easy way to say this.” He then took a shot of his drink. The sudden shift of Clay's tone could have calmed Orel, but he was so confused and the image of his father shouting in his face didn't want to go away.
“Our family line is cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“Yes. You see, someone in our ancestry upset God so much that God punished our entire bloodline with lycanthropy. Now every full moon, we transform into wolfmen. That's why today we must obey God's word to appease him for all the wrongs we’ve done.”
“Wolfmen? …Like werewolves?” The idea sounded impossible. That type of creature was only possible as a fictional character or a costume to be worn.
“Yes. Like werewolves. But you can't tell anybody, if word got out I may lose my job.” Orel looked away from his father, only more confused than ever. It was then that his dream played in his head again.
He was staying over at Doughy's house. He had remembered his dad's order, but Doughy begged him to stay a little longer and Orel felt bad for him. He kept stealing glances at the sky, watching an orange and pink sky turn into purple and dark blue.
Then something came over him. Orel felt his teeth grow sharp and his skin grow fur. He felt so scared, he screamed and howled, before running out of Doughy's room. He only lost more human traits the longer he ran. His memory from there is vague, but he remembers running out of the house on all four limbs and eventually running out of town. Lost in the woods. He couldn't recall anything after that other than being scared and alone.
“Are you saying that… I am a werewolf?” He looked back up at his father.
“Don't know how much clearer I could have made it, but yes.” He replied. He swirled his drink, causing a familiar clunking noise. The scenery only missed some fire crackles and it'd be like he was in his study.
“I… wasn't dreaming?”
“So you do remember?” He sneered.
“I didn't mean to disobey, but I was being loyal to my friend.” He clasped his hands together in a begging motion.
“Doughy, right?” He said and pinched his nose.
“Yes-”
“I'm going to have to talk to the Latchkeys. Ugh…”
“Dad… why didn't you tell me about this before?” His dad let go of his nose and looked away.
“Well… I suppose it never came up.” He then ruffled Orel’s hair.
“But now you do. Good talk.” He then left Orel alone. The boy was only left more confused. Being told that not only does a fictional monster exist, but once a month he would become one, didn't sit right. He repeated his father's words in his head until he remembered why he was like this.
“Hmm… I suppose I need to pray more?” He looked up, hoping for an answer. Only returned with silence, he clasped his hands and prayed anyway, hoping he could be better than his ancestor.