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You stand right in the center of the burned out hull of everything you once held so dear. The almost acidic burn of smoke and ash coats your throat. Yet you refuse to leave. Dirty still covering your hands and the faint bite of wolf’s bane burn healing slowly, you flop on to the dust covered remains of a mattress. Laura’s old bedroom, she never let you in here when you were children. It seems fitting to collapse into a place that was once hers. Nothing that she was clings to the room, but even in her death her smell holds to your skin.
Pinching you eyes tight closed you would swear you can hear her voice carried on the wind. You do believe in things that can’t be seen, that’s just the world you live in. Still you aren’t foolish enough not to see that for just that it is. Wishful thinking. She is gone, and you are alone. More painfully alone that you even have been. The reality of it screams inside your head.
A growing warmth pours over your face. The world behind your closed eyes is tie dyed in bright yellow and orange, mirroring the sun rise you are sure in on the other side. Werewolf strength or not, it took all night to give you sister the burial she deserved. You internally scoff at the notion. What she really deserved was not to be ripped in half as a part of some war you had both run across the country to get away from.
It feels as though weight have been tied to each of you limps. Every second of the foreseeable future is laying on this broken bed in this burned house that use to be home. What reason do you have to move, to get up, to be anything other than a hemp of meat waiting to rot away? Sure you want revenge but even the anger wrapped around that feels nothing but exhausting.
Even as you try to cease from existing your wolf senses do not fade in whole. You know against all odds YOU are still alive.