Inside, Bailey was quick to run up to him and greet him, but his reaction to him change almost instantly when he came close. He started sniffing at his owner’s body and produced a slight whine.
“Quiet, Bailey.” Alex demanded softly. Hoping that he wasn't dripping any blood on the rugs and carpet, he made haste to the bathroom, locking his dog out behind him. Stripping his bloody T-shirt off and facing the mirror, he could now see the extent of the damage the werewolf had caused.
On his left shoulder were two, likely four, large piercings from its fangs; his right arm had more of them in a muzzle pattern of teeth marks. Down both of his arms were several drying trails of blood in varying lengths, his left arm having it the worst with his flesh shredded from the pulling of fangs and teeth. The puncture wounds from the beast's claws in his back didn't look as bad, but his spine and ribs stung if he even moved his muscles near there.
However, as he looked over the wounds, Alex saw that only five at the most were still bleeding in any capacity. The rest, despite some being deep puncture wounds, had completely stopped. And around some of those wounds were traces of the werewolf’s saliva.
His throat constricted and he began to feel sick to his stomach from fear. He could barely look at himself now either. As severe as they were, if his wounds were already healing this quickly, there was no mistaking why: The werewolf had passed lycanthropy to him, and it was already taking hold. Resisting the urge to cry, he swallowed several times as he got as much medical stuff as he could find.
For nearly an hour, Alex stayed shut inside the bathroom, cleaning the blood from his arms and dressing the wounds that he could reach, too scared to open the door in case his mother was nearby. His mind was on overdrive then, thinking about what else was going to happen to him.
Would he start acting like an animal in public?
Possibly drive his friends and family away from him?
If they found out what he was, what was to stop them?
Every possibility, and every thought, made him sick to think about, but the silver chain necklace and bullet still around his neck confirmed at least one thing: He wasn't suddenly allergic to the presence of the metal.
After completing the dressings for his wounds, he finally opened the door after turning the lights off. Bailey rushed in to see him before being distracted by the massive pile of discarded and bloody medical supplies in the trash. Telling Bailey off, Alex carried the bin to the kitchen and dumped the mass as deep down as it would go. His shredded T-shirt as well.
Retreating to his room, and after getting a fresh T-shirt on, Alex tried to relax as he sat against the foot of his bed. Bailey quickly came close and tried to lick his face, which this time he allowed. It didn’t take long however for his pet to start sniffing near his wounds and the dressings.
Eventually, Alex climbed into bed. Bailey followed suit as though he wouldn’t let his owner out of his sight until he knew what had happened. Stroking the head of his pet, despite everything that had happened tonight, Alex felt much more at ease and quickly fell asleep