MY FAMILY LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS A MONSTER

Chapter 3

Alexander’s POV

I didn’t tell anyone.

Not my brothers, not my mom. Not even Dad, and he always had a way of figuring me out with just one glance. But this, this was something I didn’t know how to explain. How do you tell your family you were bitten by a wolf that turned into a man and whispered cryptic last words before dying in your arms?

The pain in my hand didn’t fade. If anything, it had begun to burn, an ache so deep it felt like fire was living in my veins. I wrapped the wound with a thick cloth, hiding it beneath the sleeve of my hoodie, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t.

Sleep didn’t come easy that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face, the man’s. Pale, hollow, as if the life had been drained out of him long before he took his last breath. His voice echoed in my skull. "Protect yourself and everyone around you..."

I tossed in bed, the sheets clinging to my skin, drenched in sweat. I kept hearing rustles outside, like footsteps too heavy for forest critters. I tried to convince myself it was just the wind, or maybe deer. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t.

The next morning, I woke up disoriented, my body ached in strange places. My shirt clung to my chest, my hair matted to my forehead, and my hand throbbed, or at least, I thought it did. My ears picked up sounds I never noticed before, Mom flipping pancakes in the kitchen, the rustling of leaves outside, birds flapping their wings across the woods. Too clear, too sharp.

At first, I thought I was losing my mind. Until I sat up in bed and peeled away the makeshift bandage I had tied around the bite the night before, but there was nothing. Not a wound, not even a scar. Just skin, clean, unbroken skin.

I stared for a long time, rubbing at it as if doing so might reveal the mark again. Had I imagined it? Had it been a dream? But the grave was real. The man, if he was even human at all, was real. The words he whispered before taking his last breath still rang in my ears.

I couldn’t forget that even if I wanted to.

At breakfast, I sat across from my brothers, trying to act normal. Liam was talking about school, Jayce was glued to his phone, and Dad was reading the newspaper. Just a normal morning. But I couldn’t stop twitching, couldn’t stop feeling like something inside me was shifting.

When I reached for the syrup, the entire bottle came off the table with too much force. It slipped and crashed to the ground, glass shattering into hundreds of tiny shards. Everyone stared.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, my hand trembling as I crouched to clean it up.

“Rough night?” Dad asked, eyes narrowing.

I nodded. “Couldn’t sleep.” He studied me for a beat too long, but I didn’t hold his gaze.

I escaped to the woods as soon as breakfast was over. It felt safer out there, away from their questions and my inability to answer them. My breathing slowed the farther I got from the house, the woods always calmed me.

But today… everything was different. The air smelled different, sharper. I could hear the creek half a mile away, the buzz of insects, even the rustle of rabbits hiding under bushes.

What the hell was happening to me?

That evening, it happened again. I touched the kitchen tap and it came loose in my hand, as if it was never fixed to begin with. Water gushed out, spraying all over me.

I froze.

My mom came running, her eyes widening at the sight of the busted sink.

“What did you do?” she asked.

“I.......I just tried to turn it on.”

Her lips parted to say something, but then she hesitated. “Go change. I’ll take care of this.” I thought that was the highest thing to happen, but I've never been mistaken.

Two days passed. I tried to convince myself that I was fine, that nothing had changed, but that was a lie. Because, I felt it. I was restless, as though something inside me was clawing to get out. My senses were heightened, I could hear conversations happening in other rooms, smell the spices in the kitchen from my bedroom. The world felt too loud, too sharp.

And then... it happened.

It was during lunch, just as Mom was serving the roasted meat she made every Friday. I wasn’t hungry. My stomach churned in a way I couldn't explain, my fingers twitching at my sides like they weren’t my own.

“Are you okay?” my older brother, Ryan, asked from across the table, his brows pulled together. “You’ve been acting weird for days now.”

“I’m fine,” I mumbled, stabbing at a piece of meat on my plate.

“You sure? You know you can talk to me,” he pressed gently, like he always did when he noticed something was off.

I clenched my teeth, the sound of his voice grated against my nerves for some reason. My skin felt hot, and tight, as though something just beneath it was shifting.

“Why don’t you just mind your business?” I snapped before I could stop myself. The room went still.

I never raised my voice at Ryan. Never. I was always the calm one, the quiet one, the one who listened. The one who fixed problems, not made them.

Ryan looked stunned. “Alex... what the hell was that about?”

He stood and walked toward me, reaching out. “Seriously, are you.......”

“I said leave me alone!” I shouted. But it didn’t sound like my voice. It was deeper, rougher, like a growl was stitched into every word.

Before I could stop myself, I shoved him hard. He stumbled backward and hit the floor with a thud, knocking over his chair. My heart stopped. I blinked, stunned by what I’d done. By the force behind my push.

“I… I’m sorry,” I whispered, staring at him from where I stood. “I didn’t mean to…” But when I looked around, I didn’t see understanding. I saw fear.

Their eyes, my mother’s, my father’s, my younger brothers, they were wide, confused, frightened. Like they were looking at a stranger. No… like they were looking at a monster.

My legs moved on their own, backing away from the table.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, barely able to get the words out. “I’m so sorry."

I turned and left, rushed up the stairs and slammed the door behind me. I pressed my back against it, panting, heart racing like a cornered animal.

That was the moment I knew I couldn’t stay any longer. Not like this. Whatever I was turning into… I couldn’t risk them being around when it got worse.

So I waited until nightfall, until the house was dark, quiet. I packed a bag, just essentials. A flashlight, my knife, some food and my jacket.

I took a pen, and left the note on the kitchen table:

"Don’t look for me. I love you all." That was the explanation I could render, and I really hope they understand.

I paused for a long moment before stepping out into the night, the forest loomed in the distance, a black silhouette against the silver moon. It was the only place I could go now, the only place I belonged.

I didn’t know what was waiting for me in those woods, but I did know one thing. If I stayed, I would hurt them, and I’d rather die than let that happen.

So I ran without looking back.