Wolfsbane- Chapter One in the Warren Pack Series

Chapter Eight

Wolfsbane

Chapter 8

Bran

I slammed the fridge shut with an angry sigh. I didn't know what I expected to find, she rarely bought food, especially if she was going on another 'holiday'. The fridge mainly contained beer bottles and condiments, but nothing decent to eat.

I took a chair from the table and dragged it across the lino to the cupboard above the alcove the fridge nestled into. It also seemed empty at first, but my hands grasped a packet of noodles I'd hidden there, and I grinned in triumph, and praised my past self for hiding non-perishables around the house.

As the water boiled in the kettle, I glanced around the room, my eyes coming to rest on the deep red mark on the wallpaper, the size of a grapefruit, with a long trail that almost reached the floor. From the time she'd bounced my head against the wall, my mind focused on it, to the point I walked over to touch it. My hands skimmed the paper, feeling a slight change in texture, but the stain had long dried out and seeped into the material.

Almost unconsciously, my hand drifted up into my hair, feeling across the scalp for the mark that had caused the stain, but found nothing but smooth skin. It was shocking that an injury that caused that much blood just a month ago. I hadn't thought about the healed injuries until now, my mind obviously occupied.

But if they had healed so fast...could the others?

The kettle clicked as steam wafted across the kitchen. I tipped the seasoning into the bowl and thought as I let the noodles soak. The bite marks had needed dissolving stitches, but had long since healed, but was wrapped up in the sling. The bruising had also gone, my ribs, arm and cut along the back of my ear to my neck were all that were left.

What was going on with me? This couldn't be normal!

I shoved the noodles into my mouth quickly; keen to get upstairs in front of a mirror to check my battered body. My phone buzzed, and I flipped it over on the table to read it

Resorted to noodles yet? Rowan had written.

Maybe.

I'll send you something so you can order takeaway? Damn, that would be so good right now. He replied, and I smirked.

Had a burger already, maybe tomorrow.

I huffed out a breath and fanned the front of my shirt to get some air flowing. The problem with this place was that it was freezing in the winter and as soon as it hit Easter time, it was a heat sink. I was already struggling to sleep in the heat, now with nightmares and injuries to think about, I was dreading when the time came to sleep.

Once I was done, I quickly washed the bowl and rushed upstairs to stand in front of my mother's floor-length mirror, its beauty always looked so out of place in her tattered room. Wiping some dust from the surface, I gently shifted my hair over my shoulder, and craned my neck until I could see the jagged scar that now lay there.

But...it wasn't there.

I pressed myself closer to the mirror, but sure enough, the skin was clear and unbroken. I jabbed my fingers around the area, but there was no rough skin or increased sensitivity, nothing to show how the concrete rubble had sliced my neck open.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm my nerves, but that only brought my attention to the next injury that no longer caused me pain.

"What?" I mumbled as I reached for my shirt and tugged it as far as I could against the sling. It stayed bunched up on my chest as I turned from side to side, looking for any outside sign. The seventh on the left had been broken, but as my fingers skimmed them, the ribs felt as they always had before the accident, albeit slightly easier to find as I'd lost weight while I was hospitalised.