Ouroboros (being rewritten)

We're Running Out Of Time

She nodded and looked at the bus stop, probably glad to have an opportunity to slip away, 'I should probably go,' she gestured to the group of students standing there, the queue larger than usual, 'Is that ...?' She stopped herself realising exactly who it was. Peter was on the ground, trying to cover his face and stomach from the kicks and punches he was receiving.

'He's down! Stop it,' I yelled at the three boys, my voice barely reaching their ears, mixing with the screams of excitement coming from the others students. This fight, though very one-sided, felt more like a public bloodletting than a simple brawl between hormonal teenage boys. Trying to weasel my way in the inner circle, I managed to grab one of the boy's arms before it made contact with Peter's jaw, making him turn around in disbelief. Looking down at his arm I was still holding, I quickly took my hands off of him and took a step back, not fast enough to avoid his fist this time, sending me flying to the ground. Preparing myself for the stomach kick, I shield myself, much like Peter had done, and waited. When the kick never came I opened my eyes only to witness the crowd dispersing and the three boys picking up their bags to get on the bus. 

Turning my head to make sure Peter was alright revealed Letha already by his side, tears streaming down her face. Her pregnant state or maybe her last name alone had convinced everyone else to step away and I could live with not knowing which one. Sitting down on the curb, I examined myself trying to look for anything that might bruise or might be hard to explain, all completely superficial compared to the werewolf who was trying to get blood, from a cut on his forehead, out of his eye. After making sure they weren't going to get on the bus and risk another beat up, I made it to my car and drove home, looking forward to putting some distance between the damn school and me.

---The simple act of staying home and relaxing or even, staying home and doing some homework seemed like such an odd concept ever since we moved here. When I was not busy digging up the remains of a dead girl or being attacked by a man in the middle of nowhere, I was keeping an eye on my closest friend, currently in a coma. Whoever said it was easy and carefree to be a teenager never lived in Hemlock Grove or befriended a werewolf. Naturally, Donna did not know any of this apart from Roman's current state and somehow, it made her more understanding of my odd hour's ventures in and out of the house. Afraid she might lose me at any moment, she chose to cherish any moment she had with me, which was oblivious unhealthy but incredibly convenient at times. Informing her I was going over to Roman's house, she let me go with a simple kiss on the cheek. No more lectures about the importance of a curfew or family time. She told me she'll keep him in her prayers and sent me on my way.

Like every evening, I parked in front of the mansion, ready to go in when a text disturbed the routine that was settling in;

          'be home an hour before sundown, let no one in or out under no circumstances.'

I let out a chuckle looking outside my car window, looking at the sun already about to set. If Peter wanted to be cryptic about his messages then he'd have to be used to be left on read. I got out and walked to the front door, hoping a butler or Shelley might answer when it opened on a crying Letha before I could even prepare my fist to knock. She didn't stop when she saw me and climbed into the passenger seat of a black car I hadn't even noticed getting here. Taking to the opportunity to get in without having to face Olivia, I closed the door behind me and went straight upstairs, ready to sit on my chair and hope for a miracle for a couple of hours. The sound of shoes going back and forth on the wooden floor is what alerted me in the first place; those were not the sound of high heels and the shoes were not dragged on the floor. Fearing for Roman, I opened the door, grabbed the elephant statue on the corridor's dresser and raised it above my head, ready for my second fight of the day, hoping it would go smoother. Peter turned around, his eyebrows furrowed, looking back from my makeshift weapon to my face, realisation settling in,

'What the hell are you doing?' He yelled out of exasperation,

I put back the elephant on the nearest drawer and crossed my arms on my chest, ready and willing to take him up on his attitude, 'I thought you were an intruder !'

'Why would I be an intruder?' I opened my mouth to point out his absence from our lives for the last couple of weeks but he shook his head, 'Never mind, I don't care. What the fuck are you doing here? I told you to stay inside.'

'Well, technically, I am inside.' This time, it was my time cutting him off, 'And why was Letha crying?' Like suddenly reminded, he used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe out his face. 'The hell did you tell her, don't you know pregnant women are very hormonal ? Why would you want to upset her ?'

'I prefer her upset than dead.' Not offering any other explanation, he let his body fall on the couch and stared at the beeping monitor in front of us. Both of us felt guilty for Roman and we both knew if he didn't wake up, our friendship would never last. I grabbed our friend's hand in mine and squeezed it, hoping but knowing he wouldn't squeeze back. He looked so fragile, so pale, kissing his forehead with the tip of my lips as to not break him, I was the one pacing around the room, trying to figure out our next move. Debating upon leaving Peter to figure all of this out like he so desperately wanted to, I froze when I heard the werewolf gasp.

'What time is it ?' A voice I never thought I would hear again spoke up. Roman blinked a few times, looking around the room and finally noticing the machines. Not only that, but he also noticed the different tubes attaching him to them and tried to yank them out.

'Take it easy man,' Peter warned him not sure what would happen if he was disconnected, 'It's been two weeks since you passed out,'

Infinitely grateful to God or fate that he was conscious, I ran up to his bed and hugged him, the relief washing over me that we wouldn't have to bury someone else. When I finally let go, a few tears were running down my cheeks but my smile explained away how I was feeling. His cheeks now a bit flushed, Roman furrowed his brows, remembering what we were talking about registering the information.

'What? Two weeks ..? Oh, fuck me ...' He paused, 'Wait, when is the full moon?'

'Tonight' Peter answered, looking at the moon through the bedroom's window. I had been so focused on Roman that the thought of Peter transforming into a wild beast tonight had completely escaped my mind. Nodding, Roman carried on taking off the tube passing under his nose as well as the one in his arm, sending the machine into a frenzy. The rapid beeping made way to a deafening silence as the screen died, Peter holding the plug in his hand. 'We should still get a doctor.' He said, already getting his phone out and trying to keep Roman in bed.

'What the hell for?'

'Complications?' I suggested. 'Comas can cause memory lose or something.'

'So I checked out for two weeks and suddenly I'm a fucking idiot?' Did my mother tell you what happened?'

Peter looked at him and simply shrugged, 'she said you OD'd,'. To any that didn't know Roman as we did, it was a plausible explanation; the rich kid snorted too much powder at a fancy party and got what he deserved. No one would suspect that the reason he'd want to stick around would be to take care of his sister.

'Pretty fucking stupid, huh?' Roman was hiding behind his mother's lie, glad he didn't have to think of another one on the spot. 'The thing is ... I made mistakes. I know what I did was wrong, on so many levels, but we really need to do this.' I couldn't believe my ears. The almighty Roman Godfrey was apologising and it only took him to be in a coma for a couple of weeks.

'Do what ?' Peter asked, taking note of the apology but pressed by time to fully lean into the finger-pointing and blame shaming.

'Kill the vargulf,' Roman replied, shaking his head slowly and raising his shoulders like Peter's question didn't make sense, 'Make things right.'

He also didn't waste any time and swung his legs over to one side, ready to get up.

'What are you doing?' Peter put his hands in front of Roman, trying somehow to contain him but there was no use.

'What the fuck does it look like I'm doing?' Catching his arm, Peter let his friend stabilise himself, taking some hesitant steps before fully standing up on his own. 'We both made mistakes and Rose got caught in the middle of it,' He turned his head to me and apologised, again, without ever being prompted to. A nice but frightening change of pace. 'Now that it's out of the way, let's go kill the fucker.'