Not Quite TeenWolf

I was going to write a TeenWolf fan fiction (I didn't know what fan fiction was, I was just going to rewrite TeenWolf, because it seemed like fun).  In my version, Scott was an actual werewolf who was murdering and eating people, only his brain couldn't handle it, so he created the TeenWolf stuff to cope. I didn't write it; turns out there was a crappy TV show version that was close - though not really.  Not at all like what I was envisioning. Anyway, this was the opening...

The thing you have to remember is that lycanthropy (being a werewolf) is a curse.  A curse that has plagued our family since the 1500s.  Sometimes it skips a generation, most times it doesn't.  It affects all of the sons of the Howard Family; and once, in 1890, a daughter.

The curse is insidious.  Dangerous.  It's more than just the transformation from man to animal.  Or, rather, that transformation is more than physical.

In my mind, the weeks leading up to and following my first transformation are a psychotic blur.  On the one hand, I know the truth - the horrors that stalked little Beacontown that year - injury, death, and worse.  I have memories of those horrors; but they are the impassioned, disjointed nightmares of the wolf.  On the other hand, is the delusion.  The mind of man is not meant to run wild in the world.  And when a man becomes the wolf, some part of him breaks.  A coping mechanism.

My delusion protected me from the evils perpetrated by my monstrous inner beast; but they left me completely unable to cope with the town around me - I was paralyzed by a fear I could neither comprehend nor share.  Beacontown was held in the tyrannical grip of a monstrous beast-man.

I thought we were trying to win the basketball championship.

If it hadn't been for the love and caring of James Styles (my good friend) and Bethany Scott (my best friend "Boof" who would become Bethany Howard, thank God), I would have been consumed by the wolf; I would have never known the truth, and I wouldn't have been able to spend my life trying to make amends.

Which, of course, I can never do.

My story is not the light-hearted coming of age story I'd thought it to be, but a nightmare tale of horror, terror, and depravity.  I do not want to face it, even now; but you have to hear it, boy; because sometimes the curse skips a generation; but most times, it doesn't.

The delusions never go away, of course.  But they become manageable.  You learn to differentiate the lie of your mad-cap adventures as the TeenWolf from the truth of the monster within; and you use the lie to keep from going insane.

The first time I felt it - before I had any notion there was something to feel, was at the season opener against the Dragons.  But it scared the shit out of me, and I suppressed it.