“Wake up,” yells the young man as he frantically tries to rouse his brother. Pulling and pushing and blowing air into the mouth — doing anything and everything he can think of.
All he gets in response to his effort is silence.
Frightful and heart-wrenching nothingness.
The pool of blood expands with each passing moment, and so does the distress of the man kneeling next to his dead brother. At last, he resigns himself to reality and removes his bloodied hands from the torn remains of his brother’s corpse.
And then he opens his mouth to scream. An almost inhuman sound escapes him, all of that sadness and bewilderment condensed into the sound of sheer despair.
Tired arms fall to his sides as he stares blankly at the ceiling, mouth still wide open. His mind is in turmoil. But deep within that darkness, a voice of reason resides. And it tells him to get to the bottom of this new reality.
Pondering, he bites his nails compulsively — blood gushing down his fingers and pain rushing through his arm, but he is busy and couldn’t care less.
He scrutinizes the scene spreading out before him.
Fresh blood is in the process of being soaked up by the once-white carpet, and on it lay the frugal remains of his dear brother. There lay one arm, violently torn from his torso, and over there lay another piece of flesh.
Could it be that it was a beast who did this?
He inhales deeply and notices that the smell of this place is different. Once it smelled of home and family, but now the repugnant odor of flesh and gore is all that remains.
He can still see the smiling face of his brother in his mind’s eye… oh, how he loved his dear brother. But what is that look on his face? Why is it that my brother is looking at me like that?! Why is he looking at me as though I am the one frightening him?
Old memories create a path leading to the truth, and suddenly the younger man starts sweating profoundly… his heart was looking to beat out from his chest.
For now, he knows.
His body is covered in brown, scruffy hair. And sharp claws extend from his bloodied hands. Hands covered with his brother’s blood.
He is that beast who killed his beloved brother; it is his fault that naught but the pain remains for the both of them.
The man-wolf stabs himself in the heart with sharp claws, all the while a stream of tears rolls down his cheeks.
He slugs his way toward his brother.
The once-man falls lifeless onto his brother’s back, praying with his last breath for forgiveness.