Chapter 8 - Trust Issues

The man stared at me with a sort of deep anger, his eyes as sharp as blades. Hiding himself partially behind my chair, he looked at me like I was some sort of serial killer. Well, whatever he is, as clichéd as it might sound, I can't just sit by and watch him die. I'll be somehow painted as a murderer who killed him. How would I dispose of his body?

I need to calm down. This is way too much for me to handle in the morning. Biting my lip, I opened up the white tin box, which made him snarl even more.

"Calm yourself." I declared. "I'm just getting some more string. You ripped the stiches that I put in you last night. I need to take the previous one's out and replace them with new ones." He snarled, giving the string a huge tug before ripping it out completely. I gasped in shock, falling backwards.

"That stupid string wasn't allowing me to heal properly." Heal properly? He's going to die if he doesn't get sewn up! I stood up and walked right towards him with a frown on my face.

"I don't care what you think, you need to-" "Get away!" A sudden pain hit my arm as I froze like a deer in headlights. I looked down at my arm, at the slashes which had teared through my only good hoodie. Slowly, the greyish colour which had faded with time turned bright red and I felt the prickle of pain lingering around it.

Then, I looked at the man's arm, at the claws which had appeared out of nowhere.

Claws.

Claws.

What is this man? And what on earth is going on? Why is he so adamant about removing my stitches? His eyes then looked up at me, filled with a strange feeling of enragement. "Get me meat." Meat? As in the beef that I gave him - or well, the wolf version of him - last night?

"Get me meat, woman." If he was a teenage boy saying that in front of his class, everyone would laugh, taking it as a crude joke, but I know that he's entirely serious about needing it. The consumable meat, not the... never mind.

I walked towards my fridge and opened it. All that was left was some fruit, a litre of milk and my beef noodles. No... no, not the noodles! They were my favourite, and I already fed the beef curry to him last night!

Come on, Luna. You have to feed him, or else he'll certainly die. I took out the plastic container and opened it up in front of him. "Here," I said reluctantly. "There's meat in that. And you'd best-" I didn't even have time to finish my sentence. He started to devour the contents and in the space of a half-minute, it was empty.

"Where's the rest?" The rest? What does this guy think this place is, a five-star all-you-can-eat buffet? I wanted to reprimand him for being greedy, being a freeloader and all, but I sighed, keeping the conflict internal.

"I have nothing else apart from fruit." From the way his expression contorted, I'm guessing that fruit wasn't an option either. Great, now I have to get more meat. The cost of that alone is extortionate and I can't exactly leave him either.

Gosh, what am I going to do? Again, there is a dying man in my apartment kitchen. I'm 17, I'm not trained to deal with all of this!