Monday early-morning January 10th, 2011. Beacon Hills, California.
Mo dreamt of running with the cheetahs of his home. They sprinted through lush grasslands and dry savannahs— knowing that beasts like the great lion and near impenetrable rhino could never catch them.
But other things could in the shadows.
Wolves.
Things like lions but worse.
Men with weapons and hate molded into blades and guns of injustice.
The fires of war—
Mo woke up to his leg bouncing restlessly. It danced like a struck serpent under the sheets of the hospital bed.
He froze at the realization. "Hospital…."
He went even more still at the immediate memory of what transpired the night before.
Then, he got moving as the smell of wolf entered his nose.
Or at least he tried to and failed as the cuffs around his wrist strained.
He was cuffed to the hospital bed.
Panic set in. He didn't do well in tight spaces. He also didn't do well with police. Or doctors. Or areas with items to steal—
Mo snarled and exploded into a whirlwind of high speed movement.
The sheets flew off the bed in tatters, the matress more or less exploded and cotton and rubber flew everywhere with the pillows and snapping of cuffs.
Mo was left standing beside the bed, completely naked and covered in bits of cloth debris.
"I might have…. overreacted, akere. Maybe, akere." He took a deep breath and listened. "Movement outside. Smells like sanitizer and polyester. No gunpowder. No Velcro. No shepherds. The cops aren't here."
With the immediate area cleared, Mo stood up straighter and surveyed his room.
It was a typical hospital room with clean checkered floors, a window looking out at Beacon Hills wildlife and a bathroom fit with a shower across the room.
He made his way there, cringing as the pains of the previous night began to set in. Before entering the bathroom though, he opened the window next to the door and then stepped in.
Quickly, he turned on the shower and removed his gown.
As the room warmed like sand under the sun, he surveyed himself in the mirror. He was still as dark skinned as always. A shade lighter than most people he knew back home due to his mixed heritage. His father was a Botswana native. His mother was Native American. In America, his mixture was referred to as Sambu or Zambu. A bit of an outdated term, but it fit better than other words people have used to describe him.
As a result, he didn't see himself or clear similarities in many other people. His skin was dark— but uniquely so at a halfway shade of mahogany brown. His hair was black as midnight and silky with a looser curl texture than most with his tone. He kept it in corn-rows usually. His nose was slim and stuck out far— almost beakish. His lips were full, but not like his father. He was handsome— but still young enough that he leaned more towards pretty. Even with his chiseled lanky frame and high cheekbones.
He was also tall. Almost too tall for the mirror at six foot five. His lanky tattooed frame stood in the mirror bearing new scars. Cuts along his arms and deep bruising around his wrapped midsection that was barely visible. He remembered the cause of the wounds. The boy he couldn't stop from becoming a monster.
He shook off the memory and gazed back into the mirror.
His Diamond earrings were still in tact.
Real Diamond.
Souvenirs from home.
Stolen from...
werewolves.
"Everyone's got to eat, akere." He reminded himself.
He kept them in as he entered the shower, wondering one thing all the way.
"Why are my wounds healing so slowly?"
***
His shower was great. Better than great even if it was only two minutes. He scrubbed his skin raw, washed his pits until hair was on the rag and stepped out to bathe in the hospital lotions until he shined.
It was all going swell for what it was worth. And then he remembered—
"Bathong! Today's my first day of school, man!" He facepalmed hard enough to bruise and headed out of the bathroom.
It was when his hand gripped the handle that he heard the nurse approaching.
When she came in and gasped at the state of his bed and…. well, everything, he was already running at a blur and leaping out of the far window with the form of an Olympic hurdler.
Because he jumped out of the window at an angle, he had the right positioning and proximity to grab the brick edges of the hospital wall.
His back and forearm muscles bulged and his naked behind faced the world as he climbed the hospital walls with feline agility and speed.
He ascended two floors before climbing into the nearest window.
Inside, he faced a sleeping old woman. Her room was just like his— except she had a purse right next to her b—
"Aye- no. Do not do it." Mo slapped his leg as it began to bounce.
The lady began to wake up from the sound.
He cursed silently and took off— but not before stealing an extra hospital gown.
The halls of the hospital were more or less empty except for the odd nurse or two walking the halls— entirely too wrapped up in their files and phones to pay him much mind.
He sniffed and listened as he passed each door until he found a break room.
He snuck inside. Another nurse and janitor. Both on break and knee deep in their phones, they didn't pay him much mind as he padded past them and headed for the lockers.
Quickly and effeciently, he took out his piercings and began picking the locks with the roded ends.
He went through three lockers before the loudspeaker went off and alerted the staff to a loose patient wanted for questioning by the police.
"Oh come on! I'm not ready." Mo looked down at his outfit. He wore an overweight female nurses tattered jeans. They were ultra-baggy on him. Which was exactly unlike the scrubs jacket he got from a locker that belonged to a petite nurse that wore way too much fruit scented perfume. "I thought healthcare workers actually made money in the us. Eish! I can't get by like this!"
He looked around once and settled with a baggy hoodie on a far coatrack.
As he briskly made his way out, now freshly showered and dressed, he nearly ran into another nurse coming in for break as he headed for the door.
"Oh! Excuse me." She said with a flustered laugh while grabbing his arms for stability.
"No, that one's on me, Olady." Mo laughed nervously.
The nurse looked up at him suddenly, "That's quite the accent."
"You're telling me."
"Where from?"
"Everywhere." Mo shrugged.
She smiled. She was pretty. Tan skinned and dark haired. Likely Hispanic. Or native like himself.
"I'm Nurse McCall. D—do you work here?"
Mo would've thought so. The reason he almost ran into her— at least partly, was because she smelled familiar. Similar. She smelled like the wolf-tainted scent that had been lingering everywhere all morning.
Suddenly he knew why. She was familiar in facial structure.
"Is he your son? How is he?"
Nurse McCall eyed him in confusion, jumping slightly as he slapped a hand over his mouth.
"Damn! I've gotta get a hold on my impulses." Mo thought before interrupting the nurse, "I actually have to go. Have a good day."
Mo walked past her and shut the door.
She turned and headed out to call after him but he was already gone.
And she was left wondering, "Was that my hoodie….?"
*****************
Eish: Used to express disappointment.
Olady: A respectful term/honorific for women senior to you.
P4tr3on: https://patreon.com/TheFuryverse?utm_medium=clipboard_copy&utm_source=copyLink&utm_campaign=creatorshare_fan&utm_content=join_link