Lazarus: Pride.

“Perhaps you should help me to understand then,” I snarled, all thoughts of the new passenger flooding from my head. He had her in there.Her. If it’d had Gabriel too, I might’ve murdered her. I’d lost both of them, the only two people I’d ever truly cared about. I drained my bottle and chucked it out of the window, wondering when we would stop for a break so I could go buy some more. That was the last of my booze and if I had to make the rest of this journey sober, I’d go insane.

I could feel the wolf inside of me howling pitifully at the picture that woman had of Melissa in her book. We were like two entities inside one body, two completely separate beings, yet both of us missed her. She was an aching hole in our chest.

"I have a werewolf, somewhere and so, when he left I didn't want to lose him so I made a page... the first page. He filled in the rest, then, I slowly began to care for all werewolves and the book grew and grew,” she told me like it would explain everything. I snorted.

"You care about me?"

"As a werewolf yes, although I'm upset by the fact you're destroying yourself."

"I’m not destroying myself," I protested, wondering if she was right at all.

"It's hard to talk to you through the alcohol, I can't see your true intentions." What the hell was that supposed to mean?

"When are we next stopping anyway?"

"I believe in a while someone else will be getting on, then I'm not sure."

"I need a break to go buy more booze,” I grumbled.

"Afraid we won't be stopping for that."

"What?" I snapped, looking at her angrily. I wasn’t going to cope without it. Suddenly I was calculating how badly I’d hurt myself if I smashed out of the windows while the bus was still moving.

"Lazarus. You have to stop drinking."

"No I don't,” I told her irritably, glaring at her more than a little.

"Yes. You do. If you don't... you may end up doing something you regret."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Lazarus. Can't you just /trust me/?"

"Why should I?"

"Because I know you?” she suggested as though it was obvious.

"But I don't know you." I don’t even know your name. Why would I trust someone that’s nameless?

"True, but, weren't you happy when you stopped drinking?"

"I had someone to make me happy," I grumbled. I had a reason to stop drinking. And now she’s gone, I’ve got all the more reason to go back to it. Drink has never let me down before, but people always do. Go figure.

"You have the strength to hold your own."

"There's more than one of us mourning in this body, y'know," I pointed out.

"I realise that, I truly do and I am sorry, but it has been a while now. You need to get up and grow strong again. You are a powerful wolf. Far greater than the two others next to you on this bus. Be proud, Lazarus!"

I sighed, hardly even angry anymore. I was pissed that she had a record of my whole life and of Melissa’s, but what could I do about it? "Proud of what?" I asked her, feeling a little defeated.

"Who you are." I arched an eyebrow. Be proud of who I am? Yeah, and pigs will fly. “You are a werewolf. A beautiful creature. You are Lazarus, strong and powerful. You have to move on." I didn’t believe her, and she could tell, apparently. "Listen to your wolf, he should tell you exactly the same... unless you've drowned him in alcohol too." I twitched. No, now he had become more of a part of me, there was no drowning the bastard thing out. She stared at me, barely reacting as my bones started to twist and snap of their own accord. I crumpled on the floor of the bus, hitting my head on one of the seats on my way down, but the pain of that never even registered.

I struggled to salvage my clothes in between pained yelps and cries, fairly sure that I end up shredding them in the effort to save them anyway. I really do hate being a werewolf, y’know.

The End

67 comments about this exercise Feed