Appetite for Destruction

What Doesn't Kill Me Might Make Me Kill You

I hugged my knees to my chest, sitting in the corner of the room with my back against the wall. It was cold in here, too cold, the concrete leeching the warmth from my skin and I tried not to shiver.

I didn't want to face the truth. Erica was dead, Boyd was much sharper around the edges than he had once been, and we were stuck in a concrete room that felt too much like a tomb.

Boyd was pacing up and down the room and I wondered how many times he'd done that, walked around the edge of the room over and over because there was nothing else to do. It seemed he didn't like being reminded of Erica's death any more than I'd liked being informed of it. 

I didn't know how the girl had perished and Boyd didn't want to share. I didn't know why it mattered so much to me - she was already dead and there was nothing I could do about that - but I needed someone to blame otherwise I'd keep on blaming myself. For letting them leave, for not fighting them on their decision, for not looking for them sooner...

I leant my head back against the wall and closed my eyes. Derek was going to find a way to blame himself for this and, in the very likely event that I died... well, I didn't know what he'd do. But even if I survived this, the fact that Erica had died before we could get to her, save her...

I stood up. No, this wasn't the time to sit around wallowing in self-pity. I walked along the wall, picking out every crack, every inch of stone, and Boyd stopped pacing to watch me.

"I already checked," He said wearily, and I glanced at him. "I don't know why or how they're doing it, but I can't shift." 

I stared at him, confused, willed my eyes to glow and - nothing. I tried my claws next, staring down at fingernails that remained blunt and human, not even a tingling sensation that precedented the arrival of claws.

"That's... worrying." I said slowly, panic beginning to creep up my throat. I turned back to the wall and, cocking one arm back, slammed it forward and let my fist connect with the stone. A deep indent appeared under my knuckles and little spiderweb cracks rippled from it.

I should have been dine after a punch like that - I'd helped Derek take down the wall in the loft using the same method - but pain radiated up from my knuckles, into my wrist, and then my elbow. My knuckles were bloody and it hurt when I uncurled my fingers.

"Son of a bitch!" I hissed, tears forming in my eyes and blood dripping from my knuckles. That had hurt in a way that I was unfamiliar with; usually the healing process would kick in straight away, injuries beginning to heal as soon as they'd appeared and taking the worst of the pain with them - this pain was sharp and lingered for far longer than I was used to.

"I'd forgotten how much it sucked being human," Boyd commented dryly, and I retreated to my little corner of the vault and sat down, cradling my injured hand.

"I wouldn't know." I muttered, clenching and unclenching my fingers as my knuckles throbbed. There was no sign of the injury healing and I grit my teeth.

Things just kept going from bad to worse.

-x-x-x-

"Ginger."

Boyd lay a hand on my shoulder and I blinked up at him, felt exhaustion in my bones and skittering, empty thoughts.

"Boyd." I mimicked a second too late. Boyd quirked a smile anyway and I looked back down at my hands. I'd been trying and failing to make my fingernails turn into claws, trying to feel the sensation that came with the arrival of them and then...