Chapter 5 The First Kill

Nineteen Years old Marcel wasn't used to parties especially not ones out in the woods with strangers and barely any lights.

But that night, something about the silence of his apartment had felt too loud. His thoughts wouldn't shut up, and his chest felt like it was caving in.

So, when two random guys at the gas station mentioned a party and told him to come through, he said yes.

Why not?

He was only nineteen, and life already felt like it was spiraling into something unrecognizable.

He didn't even ask their names. Just followed the music and laughter through a winding dirt road until it opened into a clearing.

The fire crackled in the center, surrounded by people who didn't look twice at him. He grabbed a drink and leaned against his car, trying to breathe.

Everything felt too sharp.

The music too loud. The smells too strong. The full moon overhead too... intense.

He felt like something was crawling beneath his skin.

This isn't normal.

He'd been like this for weeks. An itch he couldn't scratch. A restlessness that made his blood throb like it was trying to escape his veins.

He took another sip of whiskey and climbed up to sit on the hood of his car, trying to stay out of the way.

Then came the voice.

"Hey, weirdo. Who invited you?"

Marcel looked down to see a tall guy, probably drunk, walking up with narrowed eyes and a smug expression.

He stayed calm. "Some guys I met earlier. I just needed somewhere to cool off."

The guy snorted.

"Yeah? And you thought crashing our party was a good idea?"

He stepped closer and shoved Marcel's leg.

"Relax," Marcel muttered. "I'm not bothering anyone."

The guy scoffed. "Yeah, you are. You look like a damn creep sitting up there like Batman."

Marcel sighed and looked away, trying not to let the irritation claw its way up. He didn't want trouble. Not tonight.

But the guy wasn't done.

"You don't belong here," he growled, then suddenly threw a punch fast, unprovoked.

The hit landed on Marcel's jaw, snapping his head to the side.

Something snapped inside him too.

The world shifted. His breath caught in his throat.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Marcel shouted, jumping off the car.

The guy grinned. "Oh, the freak speaks."

Marcel didn't hear the rest. He lunged.

Fists collided. Shouts turned into grunts. The other guy swung, but Marcel moved quicker faster than he thought he could. He tackled him to the ground and hit him once, twice, again and again.

"Get off" the guy choked, fighting back. He punched Marcel in the ribs, clawed at his shirt, but it didn't matter.

Marcel couldn't stop.

"Why won't you just" He struck him again, breathing hard, heart pounding in his ears. "leave me alone?!"

Marcel shouted.

The guy stopped moving.

Chest still. Eyes wide.

Dead.

Marcel stumbled back, hands shaking, covered in blood.

"No. No, no, no..." he whispered, backing away. "I didn't mean to... I didn't-"

Then came a sound from the woods. Rustling. Leaves crunching.

Someone or something emerged briefly, just enough for Marcel to catch a glimpse of a dark silhouette dragging the body into the trees.

"What the hell is going on?"

He turned and ran. Not back toward the party but into the forest. Away from the lights. Away from everything.

His breath came in ragged gasps. His skin burned. The moon above seemed to grow hotter, brighter. His spine arched as fire licked up his back.

Then pain.

Real, raw, screaming pain.

Marcel dropped to his knees as something inside him twisted. Bones cracked. Muscles tore. He screamed into the night.

"What's happening to me?!"

His fingers stretched into claws.

His teeth elongated.

His screams turned into snarls.

"Make it stop!" he cried, voice warping as his face contorted.

Every joint popped. His ribs shifted, pushing out against his skin before locking into a new shape.

He collapsed, writhing as fur burst from his skin and his eyes glowed a wild yellow.

And then it stopped.

Not the pain,but the change.

Where Marcel had been, a massive black wolf now stood,panting, trembling, and very much alive.

But inside that wolf... Marcel was still there.

What am I?

What did I do?

The wolf part of him didn't care. It only felt the breeze. The scent of prey. The rhythm of the night.

But Marcel,nineteen-year-old Marcel was trapped inside, screaming silently.

"I killed someone," his voice echoed in his mind. "I didn't even know why. I just... lost it."

Marcel didn't know what to do.

His mind was buried beneath the instincts of the beast. He wasn't in control anymore. The wolf was and the wolf had one hunger.

Blood.

Then he smelled it.

A human.

His nostrils flared. He snarled, ears twitching as he turned toward the scent. His paws moved before he could even think.

He rushed out of the trees like a shadow, low and fast, catching the man completely off guard.

The man didn't even have time to scream.

Teeth tore into flesh. Warm blood filled Marcel's mouth, and the taste sent him into a frenzy. The world was red. The wolf was victorious.

The man fell.

And then another scent.

Another heartbeat.

He ran deeper into the forest, and whatever he found rabbits, birds, a lone fox,he slaughtered without hesitation. No thought. No mercy.

He was no longer Marcel.

He was a monster.

####

Morning came slowly, like a punishment.

The sun filtered through the trees, gentle and golden, in contrast to the horror that lay on the forest floor.

Marcel woke up with a jolt, gasping.

His body ached. His mouth was dry. He looked down and realized he was naked, covered in dried blood and dirt. Scratches lined his arms and chest. His hands trembled.

"What... what did I do?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Then he heard footsteps.

He turned sharply, panicked but instead of a threat, he saw her.

A girl, maybe around his age, with long brown hair, sharp eyes, and a calmness that felt unnatural for someone standing in front of a bloody stranger in the woods.

She held out a bundle of clothes.

"Hey," she said, as if this was nothing new. "Have this."

Marcel blinked, confused, speechless. He took the clothes slowly.

"Put them on," she added, turning her back to give him privacy. "Then follow me. You've got a lot to learn."

He pulled on the clothes, still trembling, still trying to make sense of what just happened.

Then he followed her.

They walked for a few minutes in silence.

Until they reached a clearing.

And he saw them.

Bodies.

Torn. Broken. Scattered.

Marcel froze.

His breath caught in his throat.

He stepped back. "No... no, this isn't"

"Why do you look scared?" she asked, voice calm but cold. "You did that."

He looked at her like she had slapped him. "No. I..I couldn't have.."

She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Then said plainly, "Newbie wolf."

Marcel just stared at her, stunned.

"What... what are you talking about?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"You turned," she said, stepping around one of the bodies without even flinching. "Full moon. First shift. You weren't trained. You let the beast take over."

"I killed them..." His voice cracked. "I killed someone last night. Before I even turned.what I'm I even saying,how can a human turn to a wolf,''

She looked at him, eyes steady. "Then you've already started the cycle.you are a werewolf,''

"I didn't ask for this," he whispered.

"Doesn't matter," she said, crossing her arms. "You're a wolf now. And if you want to survive the next full moon or the ones who might come hunting you,you need to learn what that means."

She turned and began walking again.

"Come on, Marcel. Before someone else finds those bodies."

He stiffened. "How do you know my name?"

She smirked over her shoulder. "Like I said... you've got a lot to learn."

The wolf looked up at the moon.

It didn't feel like punishment.

It felt like destiny.