Chapter: review

It was a Friday like every week, except that tonight his favorite band would be playing a concert in his town. He jerked at school all day and couldn't wait. In the afternoon he got ready and changed. He loved standing out from the crowd and he loved his music, in which case he didn't care that they scolded him as a satanist. He was in too good a mood.
Even when the concert ended hours later, he thought it was great. He even got an autograph. However, it got quite cold and it was raining and he decided to take a shortcut through a couple of side streets.
This was a mistake he discovered all too quickly. Because shortly before he could reach his parents' house, he was dragged into a dark corner. Snow-white fangs bored brutally into his throat and the only thing he saw were those claws on his shoulder. At some point he was let go again and he was alive ... at least that is what he believed.He felt dizzy and dragged himself into the house bleeding. He even somehow made it to his room and fell into bed dead.
For the next few days he felt tired, limp and drained. He believed his senses were improving. He perceived every smell, impression and sound as clearly and distinctly as never before. Drake kept it from his parents and sister. They'd just think he's crazy anyway. They thought it was sick that he had never had a girlfriend. But he couldn't tell his devout parents that he likes guys. They would cast him out.
On the third day, he had been chewing toast in disgust for half an hour. It tasted disgusting and it was difficult to stifle gagging. Sighing, he grabbed his school bag, choked the bread down and, as always, ran to school alone. On the way there he examined his hands. They were repulsive, seemed to be slowly changing.As did his feet and that scared him. He's also had a hell of a back and jaw pain since that night, but he dismissed this as test anxiety. However, he didn't want to spend the whole day with back pain either and snuck into the school's hospital room to steal a few pills. Nobody was there at the time anyway. Curious and looking for pills, his gaze wandered around the room and stuck to a small refrigerator. He didn't know why, but he opened it. There was only a bag of blood and a couple of petri dishes in there.
The red liquid caught his eyes and he reached for it as if in a trance. He eyed the fluid billowing inside the bag and licked his lips. Without really wanting to, he opened the plastic and drank the blood. It tasted good to him but when he realized what he had done, a cold shiver ran down his spine.He staggered into his classroom. The blood had made the pain worse and his hands tingled as if he were touching a wicker fence. After 20 meters, which seemed infinite, he braced himself on the wall and dragged himself into the room. A little water on his face would do him good and so he staggered to the sink and slapped water on his face. He felt like he was on a trip, or rather he felt like the one time he had eaten bad fish, but that was still pleasant. Again he looked at his hands and wanted to scream but his voice failed. They were no longer hands, but wide and ugly claws. Three on each hand. He happened to look in the mirror but this time he really screamed. He was even paler than he was already. His teeth were completely disfigured with three sharp fangs on each side. But not only that. Those ears ... they made him look like an elf from Lord of the Rings. But what was most disgusting was his eyes.This simple and empty white and nothing else. Where was the rest
He went down on his knees. His back killed him. He felt like it was going to tear him apart.
He sincerely hoped none of his classmates were on the way yet. He didn't want to be seen like that. He didn't understand what was wrong with him either. He felt like it was tearing him apart from the inside. A sharp pain filled him. It was like something boring through his back. And suddenly someone was standing in the doorway. The gossip at all. She would tell everyone. Panic filled him. He pulled himself up and rushed past her out of the room. Home. He just wanted to go home, lock himself in his room and never come out again. Despite the pain, he kept a cool head for the most part: Fortunately, the way to school wasn't far and nobody was on the streets that early in the morning. Everyone at home had already flown out. He sighed in relief, stumbled into the bathroom and took off his shirt.Horrified, he turned with his back to the mirror and had to contort to see anything at all, but what he saw made him scream again. Strange contours were showing under the skin, and worst of all, they were moving. He tapped the skin with his finger, or what used to be a finger, and again the mass moved beneath it. Now he was even more afraid, if this was even possible.
Hoping he was having a bad dream, he went back to his bed and hoped that when he opened his eyes again, it would all be over.
He fell asleep buried under his covers and did not notice how the skin peeled off his back and two large black wings emerged. He woke up a few hours later from the yapping of a neighbor dog, which he could hear as loud as if the dog were next to him. Yawning, he stretched and thought it was all just a dream, but a look at his hands convinced him otherwise.He began to tremble again. What should he do, everyone would see that he was not normal.
He curled up in bed and noticed something on his back. // Can it get any worse? // He felt his back and froze and yes, it could get worse. Again he went to the bathroom. Or rather, he crept to the bathroom, especially slowly, in the hope that he would never have to see it. At some point he did stand in said room and stared breathlessly at the black things he was carrying on his back. Somehow they already had something cool, but also abnormal and sick. He had nowhere to go and his parents would think he was possessed. He was toying with the idea of ​​just cutting it off, but he was too scared. He swallowed, took a deep breath, and looked at himself again. The whole thing was repeated for half an hour and then he was still at a loss in front of the mirror. What should he do? Well, he's always been an outsider, so he didn't have any friends to hide from anyway.Sighing, he accepted his fate, if only for now. He remembered the scene in the hospital room, should he really feed on blood? The thought sickened him, but at the same time he remembered the warm taste of the red liquid. He needed more, but he knew where to get it from? The best thing to do is to ask the butcher, he thought, and scurried back to his room to look in the chaos for the long, black leather coat that was way too warm for the summer. Proudly, like a trophy, he held up the good piece when, after minutes of searching, he found it in the depths of his closet. Should they think he was crazy if he was running around with something like that at 30 °, but better than being stared at like a freak. He threw it on and put his sunglasses on his nose. Even if they traced the contours of his wings under his coat, he looked at least halfway normal.
On the way to the next bus stop he thought about everything that had happened and cursed himself for being in such a hurry after the concert.Had he taken the route that was only a few minutes longer, that would never have happened. He was still brooding as he sat on the bus to the next town. After all, he didn't want everyone in the small suburb to find out about his peculiar preferences. As if in a trance, he got out at the market square half an hour later and had the feeling that everyone was staring at him. In reality he was ignored. He was just a freak in a coat. Reluctantly, he went into the butcher's shop. When the saleswoman asked that he wished, he had the feeling that she was looking at him. She knows, he thought, she knows your hideous secret. Reluctantly, he asked for a liter or two of blood. "For the bio lessons" he added without being asked and looked uncertainly at his counterpart. Like a thief, he stole away with his blood and clung to the bag. Somehow he wanted the stuff, but he couldn't drink it here, in the middle of the street. So back on the bus and home.Standing in front of the parents' house, however, a new problem arose. Meanwhile his mother was at home with his little sister and by this time he should be in school. He sighed again and quietly opened the door, hoping to remain undetected. He crept up the stairs, thanks to his new existence he was completely silent and locked himself in his room. He put the bag with the plastic cup on the computer table and examined it carefully. He took off his coat and glasses, sat down at the PC, switched on the box and logged on to the Internet. He spent hours looking for a clue of what had happened to him, but nothing. At the same time he drank his blood like it was a bottle of Coke and kept looking. But at some point he got fed up and gave up. Typing with those stupid claws wasn't easy either, and the wings prevented him from sitting comfortably. He didn't really show up with his family for the rest of the day.He just apologized for not feeling well and even that he just shouted from the room and locked himself in.
The next morning he was awakened again by the merciless alarm clock. Grumbling, he got up, padded into the bathroom, and got into the shower. And here was the latest problem. With the things on his back, showering became an act of acrobatics, because those parts were really sensitive and he didn't really have control over them. Until now he hadn't really moved her. The bathroom was flooded and he had given up and was now grumbling in front of the mirror with the toothbrush in his mouth. Such pearly whites had to be looked after, after all, he couldn't go to a dentist if he ever needed it.
He managed to sneak past his family and get to school unrecognized, again he plundered the canned food from the hospital room, who knew when he was