Ainge's Changes, Part 7
#7 of Ainge's Changes
It took Tommy's mother a few breaths seeing the image in front of her before she was able to uncork the loudest, most blood-curdling scream possible.
"Helen?!" His father called out from the living room. "Helen, what's wrong?" In seconds, Tommy's father had dashed across the hallway and was just inside the bedroom door with his wife, discovering the reason behind her shrieks, fearing the very worst - and though he was wrong about that, he still flinched in shock when he saw what was going on.
Tommy sat on all fours, his back pressed up against his bed, trying to make himself look as small as possible to his parents. He couldn't speak - he didn't even know if he would be able to speak in his lupine form - so all he managed was a low, apologetic whimper to the two of them. In his young life he had never felt so scared, or so ashamed. The three of them spent a silent minute staring at one another, the two adults trying to regain their bearings while the little werewolf did his best to appear unthreatening and submissive, doing everything short of peeing on the carpet - and he would have done that, if the human side of his mind hadn't retained control.
"What... the..." were the only words Tommy's father was able to muster at first. He surveyed the room - the clothes that his son had been wearing all day were now lying in shambles all over the floor, no longer in wearable condition. The posters of wolves on the walls and the comic book sitting on the floor next to the bed showing another lycanthrope howling with pride now made it evident that this was a condition that had waited a long time to manifest.
It felt like seven forevers passed before his father actually said something to his adopted son. "Thomas..." The wolf's ears perked up when he heard the name. "Thomas... is that you?"
Tommy tried his hardest to make English words come out of the wolfish muzzle, but all that came out was an unintelligle series of yowlings. "Yeoooooowwwwrrrr..."
The look of fear and surprise began to melt away from the man's face, replaced with a look of amazement and disbelief. "Well I'll be damned." He chuckled nervously.
Tommy, for his part, emerged from the corner made by his bed and the nearby desk, and adopted a more natural four-legged position. From there, he tilted back awkwardly until he was standing upright, his eyes never leaving those of his mom and dad.
It was too much for his mother to take. She burst into tears, her face diving into her husband's shoulder.
"It's all right, Helen." Tommy's father stroked the back of his wife's head while maintaining eye contact with Tommy. "It's all right," he repeated softly
Finally, Tommy took a step forward towards his parents, as slow as he could so as not to alarm them.
His father reacted with an inviting smile and a pair of open arms. "That's it, buddy. We're not gonna hurt you."
One step became two, then three, and on the fourth he finally had closed the distance between himself and his parents. He wrapped his furry arms around them, closing his eyes and silently begging forgiveness.
"Thomas..." his father said softly. "I'm so, so sorry..."
--
Tommy sat quietly on his bed, numb from the events that had unfolded in his bedroom. An hour had gone by and he still hadn't changed back. It was obvious that he was going to be like this for a while, and probably for the rest of the night. His bedroom door was closed again, his parents in the living room discussing what they had just witnessed, and what to do about it. And even though they were trying to talk about everything out of Tommy's earshot, they forgot to take into account the enhanced hearing that wolves had.
"We need to call the adoption agency about this, Michael."
"And do what? Ask for a refund?"
"Of course not, Michael. But neither one of us knows how to handle a situation like this."
"Our son is not a 'situation', Helen. He's probably just as scared as we are right now."
"I know, I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scream like that. But it didn't even make sense what was happening until he finally responded to his name."
"Believe me, I'm having a hard time wrapping my head around this myself. I mean... whoever thought that werewolves existed. I feel like a lunatic just saying the word."
"So what do we do? We don't know the first thing about werewolves. How often is this going to happen? Can he infect anyone else with it? Is he just going to snap one day and go on a killing spree?"
"Stop thinking that way, Helen. Thomas would never do anything like that."
"But you don't know that for sure, do you? Wolves are predators, Michael. They hunt things and kill them. Just because he's a normal kid most of the time doesn't mean he's not going to become a monster later on."
"He's not going to become a monster, Helen."
"You don't know that!!"
"I know my son!!"
"He's not your son!!"
A few seconds of silence before the argument continued.
"He's someone else's son, Michael, don't you see that? Someone else carried him in the womb for nine months and gave birth to him. Someone else raised him as a baby for six months before some idiot driver smashed into their car. And that someone else probably could've taught him everything he needed to know about what was happening to him right now. I love Thomas like he's my flesh and blood, but he isn't. And we can't pretend that he is right now. It's too dangerous."
An audible sigh came from Tommy's father. "You're right. We don't know anything. But that's all the more reason we need him to know that we're still going to be there for him. Thomas has nobody else in the world right now. No one. If we turn our backs on him, where's he gonna go? And how much more danger are we putting everyone else in if we don't at least try to give him some sort of guidance?"
"I know. I just don't know how much I can do."
"I don't know either, Helen. But we have to try."
Another moment of silence passed, and the bedroom door opened again, with both mother and father coming inside.
"Hey there, Tommy," his father said, using his nickname for the first time in ages. "Are you feeling OK?"
Tommy still hadn't practiced any speech, but a head nod was enough to convey the answer.
"I'm sorry I got so scared, Thomas," his mother said. "You're probably scared too right now, aren't you?"
A whimper was the response.
"Poor thing," his mother said. "If only he could talk to us right now."
"At least he understands us," his father replied. "Listen, Thomas. We're gonna leave you alone for the night. Give us all a chance to calm down. We'll talk about this in the morning, OK?"
Thomas looked back at his father and slowly nodded.
"Good. Remember what I said in the car today. No matter what happens, your mother and I still love you. And we'll try to help you out as much as we can. I know you're scared. We're all scared. But everything's gonna be OK." His father reached out and ruffled the fur on top of Tommy's head, the same way he did earlier when they went to lunch, and chuckled again, clearly marveling at how soft his fur coat was. "Try to get some rest, kiddo."
Tommy's brow crinkled upwards, changing his expression to one that was much happier than what he'd been wearing since the night began. His mom then came down, bent over, and gave him a motherly kiss on the forehead, causing Tommy to murr with satisfaction. Mom and Dad then left the room, closing the door behind them. Once again, he heard an audible sigh through the door coming from his father.
"I guess that explains why he was eating so damn much today."