The bed wasn't comfortable, and the reason was that it wasn't my bed.
As I woke up, I realized I was covered up in a thin blanket, and… yeah, the only thing covering me was that.
Terry. Sitting at the foot of the bed.
"Oh, God. You gave me a… thanks!" I changed mid-sentence because Terry dumped a pile of clothes on my lap. Then, without looking at me, she walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her.
Oh, cold. And hostile.
First, I got into the clothes. They were Terry's – just maybe a little small for me, but I managed to fit. Simple black T-shirt, denim shorts. I didn't have time to feel self-conscious about them now.
I took in the room. There was nothing in it. An empty shelf, a huge cupboard, an uncomfortable bed. I correct myself; there was nothing great in it.
And then the events of the past hit me with the force of a tsunami.
Man. Wolf. Terry. Me. Angry.
I killed a man.
My mind responded defensively before I had any time to react.
Not my fault. He deserved it.
I couldn't go out of this room, not there. Not when I'll have to see the body and face Terry and those other two guys who will probably try to kill me. Or hand me over to the police.
There was a window in the room. I opened it eagerly – only to be disappointed. A metal grill guarded it.
Panic was rising somewhere in my stomach.
Shh, calm down, calm down. Okay. Maybe you can sneak out.
I opened the door as quietly as I could. I was good at stealth – the door didn't want to cooperate.
Too late now. I opened the door as far as it would go, and walked out as normally as I could.
Terry was waiting for me, smiling sadly at the wall.
"Would you stop that!" I hissed.
"What?" She said, startled.
"Stop looking at the wall as if you'd rather be it than be you. Okay, so you're a werewolf. Big deal. Get over it, okay? Once you're not a danger to everyone you can go home. I think. Because seriously, you can't go into hiding forever with a bunch of mutts. So just get over it, okay? Look on the damn positive side!"
Not the first time I'd given Terry a lecture like this. She was thinking about it. Finally, she looked up at me and gave me a real smile, "Move."
My answering smile was a little late, because my mind was going down a very unpleasant path.
What happens now?
"Terry…" I began.
She silenced me with a look. Then she led me into a room. Into that room.
The chair was still broken. The body… was still there.
God, it looked terrible.
The man's throat was torn out, and there was dried blood. His eyes were wide, open, staring. I'd read a million books, but I still didn't get the whole 'glassy' effect.
Terry stood really close to him, and I did too. The body lay at our feet.
"What do we do now?" I asked in a low voice, "The cops will be crawling over this. And when will we go home? Where are those two other guys?" None of these questions really mattered. I couldn't take my eyes off the corpse. I did that.
"What was his name?" I whispered.
Nobody answered – Terry or the corpse.
Terry could have, but she didn't. And corpses don't answer, do they? But this one wasn't even a corpse.
His bloodied hand grabbed my ankle.
I screamed, backing away in an undignified manner. Both of them laughed.
It wasn't funny.
"Fuck you!" I yelled. After the brief panic, and the brief anger, I dissolved into laughter myself. Because it was funny.
I'd never laughed so much in my life. But I'd never been that panicked in my life either.
Some part of my brain was analyzing everything I did, and drawing conclusions.
My emotions were out of control, and I reacted explosively.
Things were going to get worse.