The Next Morning
William sat in class, but the lecture barely reached him. The professor's voice faded into a dull hum — a background drone, like an old fan struggling to stay alive. His thoughts kept circling back to the night before: the blood, the scream, the way his claws had slid through flesh and bone with terrifying ease.
He rubbed his palms slowly, as if he could wipe away invisible stains.
God, I need to remember I'm not exactly human anymore… he muttered under his breath, a hollow half-smile tugging at his lips. If I don't watch my strength, I'll end up breaking someone's arm just shaking hands. "Hi there" — snap — lifelong injury. Great.
Leaning back, he stared at the ribbed shadows cast by the blinds, then quietly recited a mental note: Control. Discipline. No outbursts.
