Questions to Be Asked
Shanker was still clutching to his roost under the eaves of this house, which was on the outskirts of the outskirts of suburbia. He didn't know how far away he was from the forum, from Cloak and the Fefnir clan. He still shivered with fear as images of their abuse and fearmongering and intimidation played through his mind as if he was strapped down in a cinema and forced to watch a movie that he rather not.
The more he tried not to think about Cloak and the Fefnir clan, almost paradoxically, the more he did. He did not want to constantly revisit this stuff in his mind or in reality. He had thought he was free, he thought he was . . . free . . .
He had successfully repressed all these hurtful memories. Or, at least, he thought
he had. But, as it turns out, he had repressed them without really dealing with them. He had suppressed and downplayed them, as they were not significant. He had even tried to convince himself of this. He had tried so hard . . .
But none of it was true, was it? What happened really happened, and pretending that it didn't was doing him far more harm than good. He had always harbored a guilt for killing the boy -- but he knew it and understood it to necessary for his escape, but part him wondered. Was it really? Was it really necessary to slay that boy? He didn't do it in cold blood, so to speak, but he was like a frenzied, pent-up animal desperate for freedom.
he have to kill the werewolf adolescent? Was it truly
necessary or . . . or excessive? Could he have just pushed him aside and . . . no. The truth of the matter was that he couldn't do that. He was already very malnourished at the time, and his strength was sapped, even with the kindness
they gave him about allowing just the most bare-bones food proportions. He would have died of starvation or just by werewolf, and he had picked the one that felt less dangerous, less incumbent.
The alpha Fefnir would not rest until his head was on a pike. The alpha actually thought that he was being kind to Shanker by allowing him to live so that he could be hunted and chewed on every full moon. This is why his Boggart was a full moon -- because it meant torture . . .
But then why didn't he leave when the moon wasn't full? Why did he stay? Why didn't he escape then? Full moons only came once a month, after all. He could have left . . . as malnourished and mistreated as he was, he could have left. And . . . yet . . . he never did. He fed on the woodland critters to get his vampiric sustenance, but he didn't leave. He could have any time that it wasn't. He could have . . . why didn't he? Oh, why didn't he? Did that boy really have to die? He could have left before the full moon rose that night, or just simply left earlier.
But would they have allowed him? When he left, it was when the whole Fefnir clan had gotten complacent with him, had gotten careless. They were at the point where he was little more than their beaten pet. No, he was lower than that. They had cowed him into compliance, with the alpha in particular taking a sadistic joy out of it. He was a cruel, twisted man -- and he was that way whether wolf or man.
Shanker was little more than animal to them, a thing
undeserving of compassion and understanding. Not surprising, as this alpha obviously considered such things shameful weaknesses. He was a man who believed strength was being cruel and merciless, that being tough was refusing to seek medical attention for any wound, no matter the severity. He was a backwater primitive sort of man.
Shanker could not face him again. He could not . . .
Why did Aidan abandon him there? Why did his own maker forsake him in such a way? To a vampire, his or her maker was very much like their father or mother, and their sire a child. He would have never abandon his two sires in such a way. Never. He was unable to stop Gaz's blood brother from being slain by the Slayer, but he tried
. He had tried
. Why was he
neglected and rejected in such a way? Why did his
maker not show him the kind of loyalty that he showed his own sires?