Bogeyman

He was a shadow in the night. He crept round corners, hiding, waiting, watching through the cracks until he clocked his next victim. He'd follow them on their way, with his dark, worn hoodie concealing his pale face. His pale face, with his almost translucent skin, dark circles decorating the portion underneath his bloodshot eyes. He held his breath as he followed his victims, if their irresistible scent drifted in his direction, he'd lose control and there would be no stopping him, and that would be it. They'd be outed and he wouldn't have a leg to stand on if all of them got through it alive, they'd banish him, and he couldn't go it alone.

It wasn't the pack that he needed. He hated them all, to him they were all murderous, blood thirsty tyrants. They were born into this so they knew no different. Sean was different. He was special, one of a kind. He was half and half, so his needs weren't the same. Of course, his throat burned, aching for fresh meat to be chewed up and washed down with copper tasting, crimson blood. It was natural he felt this way, that was his bad half. His good half however knew better. It knew he shouldn't prey on innocent humans, it was the half that controlled him and his thoughts, it stopped him from breathing in when he was following his so-called victims home.

Because really, Sean didn't follow his victims home to slay them on their front doorstep. Oh no, Sean followed them home to make sure they got there safely. He followed them to spare an innocent life for another forty eight hours or so. He claimed his victims, and then saved them. In reality, Sean would be considered some sort of warped hero, but to the pack, he was a laughing stock. They all talked about him behind his back, they all gave him disgusted looks, and they all looked down on him. He was at the bottom of the pile, the runt of the litter, the weakling.

It had been a warm, summer night. Sean had claimed a seventeen year old boy, and followed him home. The boy was bleeding, due to having had a drunken brawl in the local pub. Sean held his breath and fought an internal battle with himself as he followed the staggering teenage mess to his front door. He watched from behind the privet outside the house as the boy slammed his palm against the front door a few times. Lights flickered on upstairs, and the front door was flung open by a grey haired man in a dressing gown. Sean guessed the man was the boy's dad, as his eyes widened at the state of his son, he clipped him around the back of the head, before he started shouting about getting drunk and fighting.

Sean's mission was complete, so he hurried away.

His lungs ached as he moved, his breath was ragged, his feral side was fighting, he wanted to grab the next human that dared pass him and rip them to pieces, to satisfy the need that had been building up inside him for so long now. He pulled the sleeves of his dirty hoodie over his pale and shaking hands. He let a heavy sigh escape his rough, chapped lips, watching his breath cloud over before his eyes.

"Smith!"

He turned around and something collided with his face, making him stumble and fall towards the pavement. He reached up to touch his lip, feeling his own blood seeping from a cut that had formed. His raging eyes glanced up to glower at his attacker.

Gavin Butler smirked from above him. His skin was a healthy human colour, his eyes sparkled, all the signs he'd fed from some poor, innocent human. He laughed bitterly. "You're fucking pathetic, Smith."

Sean inhaled deeply, trying to calm the emotions that were currently raging deep inside him. A huge part of him wanted to jump up and kick Gavin to the ground, he wanted to wipe that smirk right off his worst enemy's face, to trade places with him, so he was the one standing tall, wearing a smirk and laughing at the weakling that lay, pleading for mercy before him. The other tiny proportion of him knew he couldn't do that. Gavin was pack royalty for one thing, and he didn't have the energy to jump up and fight. So he just laid there, whilst Gavin laughed once more, before spitting in his face and leaving.

Sean wiped the saliva from his cheek and pushed himself up into a standing position. He swayed on his feet slightly, before regaining control. He carried on towards the warehouse, following the rest of the pack, who seemed to have all finished feeding for the night.

"Good one tonight."

Sean glanced to his left to see Ian Watkins falling into step beside him. Ian's greasy hair hung in his eyes, his chin was decorated with flecks of dark stubble, and his lips were stained with blood. Sean forced a grimace out to his only friend. Ian was the only person in the pack that had any time for him, of course like the others he didn't quite understand why Sean wouldn't feed, but he let it slide and didn't hold it against him, and for that, Sean was thankful.

"Yeah?" Sean asked, forcing himself to face forwards, the blood smeared across Ian's lips was far too tempting.

"Mmm. What did Butler want?"

Sean shrugged. "The usual."

"Fucking bastard, thinks he's untouchable just because his dad's the fucking leader. Sean, you need to start sticking up for yourself, mate, I know you're not the same as us and you don't have the same views, but that shouldn't stop you. Just lay into him next time he starts, you deserve some respect, I mean you're not a murdering scumbag like the rest of us."

"You and I both know that me sticking up for myself is a lot easier said than done. I'm weak."

"You're only weak because you don't feed. I'm not trying to tell you that you should suddenly start going round killing every human you set eyes on, I'm just asking that you try it, just once. Or why don't you kill animals? We have to do that when there's no humans around."

Sean shuddered. "I don't want to kill anything with a face."

Ian rolled his eyes. "You're fucking impossible, mate."

Sean grinned, and the pair of them ran the rest of the way towards the warehouse, ready for a good day's rest.