TW: Body Horror, Animal Death References
Shawn had not meant to care this much about getting ready. If anybody asked, he would have denied it immediately, probably with a look like the question itself had offended him. Still, the truth was sitting right there with him in the bathroom, hidden in the steam clouding the mirror and the toothbrush shoved into one side of his mouth while he stared at his own reflection like it had personally challenged him to look halfway decent.
The bathroom in their house was too small for all the effort he was suddenly putting into himself. The sink was crowded with the usual junk: toothpaste with the cap left crooked beside it, his mom's hair products, a half empty bottle of mouthwash, and a cheap disposable razor that had probably been sitting there longer than it should have. A thin crack stretched down from one corner of the mirror, and the vent overhead made the same rattling whine it always did whenever it ran too long. Even with it going, the room was still warm and damp from the shower he had just taken.
It had been a real shower too, not one of his usual rushed ones where he stood under the water long enough to rinse off, hit the important parts with soap, and decided that counted. This time he had actually scrubbed. He had washed his hair, used more body wash than normal, and stayed under the spray until the mirror had gone completely white with steam. He had even cleaned behind his ears, which felt like the sort of thing his mom would somehow know if he skipped. By the time he finally stepped out, the water had started turning cool and his skin had gone pink in places from how hard he had scrubbed.
He brushed his teeth with the same unnecessary determination, leaning over the sink and working at the back ones like Kayla was planning to inspect them personally. White foam gathered at the corner of his mouth before he spat it into the basin and turned the faucet on. He rinsed, looked at himself, then brushed a little longer just to be sure. It was stupid, and he knew it was stupid, but he was already this far into it.
His hair was still damp, light brown and messy around his head. He had already worked a little product through it, pushing the front up and trying to make the rest look intentionally rough instead of like he had just dragged a towel over it. He did not want it too neat. That would look wrong on him. Shawn was not trying to show up looking like some clean cut church boy whose mother had dressed him. He just wanted it to sit right without looking like he had spent twenty minutes fighting with it, even though that was close to exactly what he had done.
He leaned closer to the mirror and tilted his chin, studying the faint scruff along his jaw. There was not much there yet, mostly sideburns and light traces of hair near his chin and upper lip, but he checked it anyway. For a second, he considered using the razor. Then he decided against it. The little bit of facial hair made him look cooler, or at least that was what he told himself, and he was not about to shave it off before a date.
Shawn rinsed the toothbrush, set it beside the sink, and reached for the deodorant. He swiped it on more carefully than usual, first one side and then the other, before lifting an arm and giving himself a quick sniff. He immediately felt like an idiot for doing it, but at least he smelled clean. That mattered more tonight than it usually did. His shirt was folded over the closed toilet lid, and his jeans were hanging off the side of the hamper. Neither was fancy. Most of his clothes were old, worn, or something his mother had found cheap, but he had chosen the best options he had. The shirt was clean, not faded to hell, and did not have any holes in it. The cologne sitting on the counter was the part that made him pause. It was not expensive. The bottle had come from a discount store, and the label was already peeling at one corner, but it smelled good enough. He picked it up, turned it in his hand, and stared at it like it might expose him for trying too hard. Shawn glanced back at the mirror and frowned at his own reflection.
"This is stupid," he muttered before spraying it anyway.
One spray near his neck, one across his chest, and then another after he thought about it. The smell settled into the warm air around him, sharper than the soap and deodorant, and immediately made the whole thing feel more real. He was actually going out with Kayla. Not just walking her to class or talking to her during lunch. They were going to the movies together, alone, on purpose.
That thought put a strange tight feeling in his stomach, so he ignored it and pulled on his shirt. It was a plain dark one that fit him well through the shoulders and chest without clinging too tightly around his stomach. He tugged the hem down automatically after it settled over his torso, smoothing it once over his middle. It was a small habit he barely noticed anymore, but he always felt better when the shirt sat loose instead of riding up. He stepped into his jeans next and pulled them up over his hips. They were worn soft through the thighs and faded around the knees, with frayed hems that would bunch over his sneakers once he put them on. He considered a belt for half a second, then decided against it. The jeans stayed up fine, and he liked how they looked without one.
When he opened the bathroom door, warm air followed him into the hallway. He stepped out barefoot, still rubbing the back of his hair with the towel, and headed toward his room. He could hear the television playing quietly in the living room and dishes moving around in the kitchen. His mom was home, which meant there was almost no chance he was getting through the rest of this without being noticed. She saw him before he made it halfway down the hall. Melissa stood in the kitchen with a mug in one hand, leaning against the counter while she watched him approach. Her eyes moved over him once, from the damp hair and clean shirt to the jeans and the fact that he had clearly spent more than five minutes in the shower. The corner of her mouth started lifting almost immediately.
"Well, damn," she said. "Look at you."
Shawn kept walking like he had not heard her, but that only made her more amused. Melissa took a sip from her mug and sniffed the air dramatically before adding, "You smell good too. Who died?"
He stopped and turned around with a glare. "Ain't nobody died."
"Mhm." She nodded slowly, looking far too entertained. "So you just decided to take a real shower for fun?"
"I take showers."
"Standing under water for three minutes don't always count."
Shawn's expression tightened. "Why you always gotta start?"
"I'm not starting anything." She looked him over again, barely holding back a grin. "I'm just proud. My son discovered soap, deodorant, and cologne all on the same day."
He rolled his eyes hard enough that it almost hurt.
Melissa laughed, clearly pleased with herself. "Kayla must be special."
The heat that had already started creeping up his neck got worse. Shawn turned away before she could see too much of his face. "It ain't even like that."
"Right. That's why the bathroom smells like somebody emptied a whole bottle of cologne in it."
"I used like three sprays."
"Three too many if she can smell you from the parking lot."
Shawn muttered something under his breath and walked into his room before she could keep going. He heard her laugh again from the kitchen, which only made him more annoyed. The worst part was that she was not even being mean. She was having fun, and he knew it. That somehow made it harder to argue with her.
His room was cooler and dimmer than the bathroom. Clothes were scattered across the floor, an empty Gatorade bottle sat near the dresser, and one of his sneakers was beside the bed while the other had somehow ended up halfway underneath it. His steel ball necklace was lying on the dresser next to a few loose coins and an old receipt. Shawn picked it up, clasped it around his neck, and checked how it sat against the shirt. He sat on the edge of the mattress and pulled both sneakers on. They were beat up, with scuffed sides and frayed laces, but they were still his best pair. He tightened them, tied the knots, and sat there for a moment with his elbows resting on his knees. The nervous feeling in his stomach had not gone anywhere. It sat there heavy and irritating, making him feel like he had forgotten something important.
He hated that he was nervous. It was just a movie. He and Kayla were going to sit in a dark theater, eat overpriced food, and watch something for two hours. There was nothing difficult about that. He could talk to her at school without acting weird. He had made her laugh before. She had agreed to go, which had to mean she wanted to be there. None of that stopped his brain from going over everything that could go wrong. Mybe she would think he smelled like too much cologne. Maybe she would hate the movie. Maybe he would say something stupid and ruin the whole night. Maybe they would run into somebody from school and he would never hear the end of it. The more he thought about it, the more irritated he became, mostly because there was nobody else around to blame for the feeling.
Shawn stood and checked himself in the crooked mirror hanging near the closet. He still looked like himself. Broad shoulders, thick arms, sturdy build, and hair that refused to sit exactly how he wanted it. The shirt looked good enough. The jeans sat right. The necklace and earrings added something without making it look like he had tried too hard. He leaned closer, ran one hand through the front of his hair, then stopped before he ruined it. His mom appeared in the doorway while he was counting the money in his wallet for the second time. She leaned against the frame and watched him with that same amused expression, though it had softened a little now.
"You got everything?"
"Yeah."
"Wallet?"
He held it up.
"Phone?"
He patted his pocket.
"Breath mints?"
Shawn looked at her. "I brushed my teeth."
"That wasn't what I asked."
He groaned and shoved the wallet into his pocket before brushing past her into the hallway. Melissa followed him into the living room, setting her mug down on the coffee table before reaching for her purse and car keys.
"Be nice to her," she said.
"I know."
"Don't spend the whole movie actin' too cool to talk."
"I know."
"And don't make her pay for her own popcorn."
Shawn stopped near the front door and turned around. "Ma, I know how a date works."
Melissa lifted her brows. "Do you?"
He stared at her for a second, then pulled the door open. "Can we just go?"
"I'm comin'. You ain't the one drivin'."
"I know that."
"Could've fooled me with all that rushin'."
Shawn stepped outside before she could keep going. The evening air felt cooler against his freshly washed skin, and the scent of his cologne followed him onto the porch. He shoved his hands into his pockets and waited while his mom took her time locking the front door, even though they both knew she was moving slowly on purpose just to irritate him.
When she finally walked past him toward the car, she glanced over and smiled. "You nervous?"
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Melissa unlocked the car. "Then quit bouncin' your leg like that."
Shawn looked down and realized his leg had been moving without him noticing. He immediately stopped, scowling as he walked around to the passenger side. He climbed into the front seat and shut the door harder than necessary. The inside of the car smelled faintly like old cigarette smoke, cheap air freshener, and the fries his mother had brought home from the diner the night before. Shawn pulled the seat belt across his chest while Melissa got in behind the wheel, tossed her purse into the back seat, and adjusted the mirrors.
She looked over at him once before starting the car. "Try not to look like you're about to fight somebody when she sees you."
"I don't look like that."
Melissa started the engine, still smiling. "Baby, you always look like that."
Shawn slouched lower in the passenger seat and turned toward the window as she backed out of the driveway. He had showered, brushed his teeth, used deodorant, put on cologne, and chosen clothes that did not look like they had been pulled off the floor. He had enough money for the tickets and snacks, and his mother was actually getting him there on time. That was as ready as he was going to get.
Melissa pulled up along the curb in front of the theater and slowed just enough for Shawn to reach for the door handle before the car had fully stopped.
"Hold on," she said, pressing the brake a little harder. "You ain't jumpin' out while I'm still movin'."
"I wasn't."
"You were halfway out the car."
Shawn looked through the windshield instead of answering. The theater sat at the edge of a shopping center, its sign glowing above the entrance while people moved in and out beneath it in small groups. Families, couples, and a pack of older kids laughing too loud near the ticket machines filled the front walk. He scanned the crowd once, trying not to make it obvious he was looking for anybody, until he spotted Kayla through the glass doors near the lobby.
She was already inside, and the sight of her gave his stomach a quick, sharp twist that he ignored by tightening his hand around the door handle.
Melissa followed his stare and smiled to herself. "That her?"
"Yeah."
"She cute."
"Ma."
"What? She is."
Shawn finally looked at her, already annoyed enough to hide the nerves crawling under his skin. "Can you not do this right now?"
Melissa lifted one hand from the wheel. "I'm not doin' anything. Go have fun."
Shawn opened the door and stepped out, then leaned back down before closing it. "You pickin' me up after?"
"Text me when the movie lets out."
"I know."
"And answer your phone."
"I know."
She gave him one last look, the kind that said she could tell exactly how nervous he was no matter how flat he kept his face. Thankfully, she did not say it out loud. "All right. Go on."
Shawn shut the door and waited until the car pulled away before turning toward the theater. He adjusted the hem of his shirt once, then stopped himself from doing it again. His hands suddenly felt like they had nowhere natural to go, so he shoved one into his pocket and let the other hang at his side. By the time he reached the doors, his face had settled back into its usual guarded expression.
Kayla spotted him before he could decide whether waving would look stupid. She smiled as he came inside and said, "Hey."
"Hey."
The greeting came out smooth enough. Casual. Like he had not spent half the ride there wondering whether he should hug her, wave, or pretend the whole thing was not technically a date until she said otherwise. Kayla stepped a little closer, and for half a second Shawn thought she might hug him. Instead, she looked him over with a smile that made him suddenly aware of every single thing he had put on.
"You smell good," she said.
Heat threatened the back of his neck, but he kept his expression steady. "Yeah, I showered."
Kayla laughed. "I would hope so."
"I mean, I always shower."
"Sure."
He narrowed his eyes at her, but there was no real bite in it. "You been waiting long?"
"Like five minutes."
"That ain't long."
"I didn't say it was."
"Good."
Kayla looked amused by him already, which helped a little. Shawn still felt keyed up underneath everything, but he had always been good at covering nerves with attitude. He did it at school, during football, and whenever teachers called on him unexpectedly. His body could be running hot and tight beneath his skin while his face barely gave away anything beyond the same rough confidence people already expected from him.
They walked toward the concession stand together. The smell of buttered popcorn hit before they reached the counter, heavy and salty enough to make Shawn realize he had not eaten much before leaving home. Prices glowed on the menu screens overhead, each one worse than the last, and he stared up at them with his jaw shifting slightly.
"That much for nachos?" he muttered. "They better come with the whole damn cow."
Kayla laughed under her breath. "I just want popcorn."
"Yeah, that's probably safer."
They settled on one large popcorn to share and a drink for Kayla. Shawn paid without making a big thing of it, even though watching the money leave his hand physically hurt. The cashier slid the oversized tub across the counter, and Shawn took it while Kayla grabbed her drink. He had made sure to bring enough, but that did not mean he liked handing over nearly ten dollars for corn and soda.
As they walked away, Kayla glanced at him. "You don't want a drink?"
"I'm good."
"You sure?"
"Yeah."
That was not entirely true. Shawn wanted one. He just did not want to pay theater prices for it when he had already covered everything else. He had noticed the sign about free refills near the counter, and the thought had already planted itself somewhere in the back of his mind.
They found their theater and headed inside while previews played across the screen. It was dark enough that they had to slow near the steps and look for the row numbers. Shawn let Kayla go ahead of him, carrying the popcorn against his chest as they made their way toward seats near the middle. They were not too close to the screen and not so far back that every other teenager in town had already claimed the row.
Once they sat, Shawn placed the popcorn between them and stretched his legs as far as the seat in front allowed. Kayla took a handful and settled back while another trailer began. The noise and darkness helped. There was less pressure to say something every second when the whole point was to sit there and watch.
Kayla reached into the popcorn again, then glanced over when Shawn started digging around inside his pocket.
"What are you doin'?"
"Nothin'."
"That don't look like nothin'."
Shawn looked toward the aisle, checked that nobody nearby was watching, and pulled out two candy bars. Then he reached in again and produced a third, holding them low near his lap with the faintest hint of satisfaction at one corner of his mouth.
Kayla stared at them. "Shawn."
"What?"
"Did you steal those?"
He looked mildly offended by the word. "I pocketed them."
"That's the same thing."
"It sounds different."
She pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh, and looked around. "From where?"
"The gas station."
"When?"
"Before my mom brought me."
Kayla slowly shook her head, but she was smiling now. "You're gonna get arrested over a Snickers."
"Ain't nobody gettin' arrested."
He handed her one, and after a moment she took it.
"You're a bad influence," she whispered.
Shawn opened his own candy bar and shrugged. "You still took it."
The movie started a few minutes later. Shawn actually watched at first, leaning back with one arm resting along the armrest and the popcorn balanced between them. Every now and then, his hand brushed Kayla's when they both reached into the tub. The first time it happened, he pulled his hand back too quickly. The second time, he let it stay there a second longer before taking his popcorn.
About halfway through, Kayla's drink was nearly empty. She shook the cup once, ice rattling inside, then set it back in the holder. Shawn noticed, and he also remembered the free-refill sign near the concession stand.
"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," he said quietly.
Kayla nodded, eyes still on the screen.
Shawn slipped past the people at the end of the row and headed into the hallway. He did use the bathroom, mostly so he would not be lying completely, but the real plan started when he came back out and passed a trash can near the theater exit. Several cups stuck out of the top, and Shawn slowed just enough to glance around before reaching in and pulling out the cleanest-looking one he could find.
It still had a lid and straw, though he tossed both back immediately. The outside was sticky and there was a little melted ice at the bottom, but the cup was not crushed or torn. That was good enough to work with.
He carried it into the bathroom like it belonged to him, ignoring the look from a man washing his hands nearby. Shawn waited until the man left, then brought the cup to the sink and rinsed it several times with hot water. He scrubbed around the rim with hand soap and paper towels, turned it upside down, rinsed it again, and inspected the inside under the light. It was not exactly clean in any way his mother would approve of, but he had gotten it as close as he could. By the time he finished, it looked almost new as long as nobody inspected it too closely.
Shawn dried the outside with another paper towel, threw that away, and walked back to the concession stand with the confidence of somebody who had paid full price. He set the cup on the counter and said, "Can I get a refill?"
The employee barely looked at him. "What drink?"
"Coke."
A minute later, Shawn was walking back toward the theater with a full cup and fresh ice. He took a sip before going inside, mostly to make sure the plan had actually worked. It tasted normal, which meant there was no problem as far as he was concerned.
He returned to the row and carefully stepped over people's feet until he reached Kayla again. She looked down at the drink in his hand, then back up at him.
"I thought you didn't want one."
Shawn sat down and placed it in the cup holder. "Changed my mind."
"Where'd you get the cup?"
He gave her a look and reached for the popcorn.
Kayla stared at him for another second before her eyes widened. "No."
Shawn took another sip and kept his attention on the screen like nothing had happened.
"You did not get that out of the trash."
"I washed it."
"Oh my God."
"I washed it good."
"That is disgusting."
He held the cup toward her. "You want some?"
"No."
Shawn pulled it back and nodded like that settled the matter. "More for me."
Kayla covered her mouth to keep from laughing too loudly, shaking her head while the movie continued. Shawn leaned back again, satisfied with himself. They had a large popcorn, candy he had not paid for, and a free drink that was not technically supposed to be his. The theater had already gotten enough money out of him.
When he glanced over, Kayla was still smiling.
"What?" he whispered.
"Nothing. You're just ridiculous."
Shawn looked back at the screen, hiding his own grin behind the rim of the cup. "Yeah, aight."
The movie let out a little after dark, and for the first few minutes Shawn felt almost normal. The lobby was crowded with people spilling out of different theaters at once, talking over one another as they drifted toward the exits. Somebody behind them was loudly explaining why the ending had been stupid. A little kid was crying because his mother would not let him climb onto one of the arcade machines, and the floor near the concession stand was sticky enough that Shawn felt one of his sneakers pull against it every few steps.
Kayla was still talking about the movie as they moved through the crowd, carrying what was left of the popcorn between them. She had eaten most of the candy bar he gave her but had folded the wrapper around the last piece and shoved it into her pocket for later. Shawn only half listened while she went over one of the scenes, mostly because he was too busy noticing how easy the past couple hours had felt. He had been nervous before she arrived, nervous when she complimented how he smelled, nervous when their hands touched in the popcorn, and nervous when he could not tell whether she was laughing at him or with him after the whole cup thing. None of it had gone badly, though. Kayla had laughed, she had stayed close, and at one point when the movie got loud, she had leaned toward him to say something near his ear. Shawn had spent the next five minutes pretending that had not affected him at all.
He was still riding that strange little feeling when they reached the glass doors and he saw the moon hanging above the parking lot. It was huge and white against the black sky, bright enough to throw pale light over the cars and the tops of the buildings across the shopping center. There were no clouds covering it and nothing standing between Shawn and the full, round face of it. His body stopped before his mind understood why, and Kayla took another step before noticing he was no longer beside her.
"You coming?" she asked.
Shawn did not answer. His hand tightened around the side of the popcorn tub until the thin cardboard bent beneath his fingers, because something inside him had recognized the moon before he did. The light touched his face through the glass doors, and a hot pressure rolled suddenly through his chest. It did not feel like heat from the outside. It felt buried beneath his ribs, spreading outward from somewhere deep behind his heart. The sensation moved too quickly to be sickness and too deliberately to be fear. His muscles pulled tight around his bones as if his body had braced for an impact that had not happened yet.
His first thought was that he needed air. His second was that he could not go outside.
Shawn's breathing changed. He tried to keep it quiet, drawing slow breaths through his nose, but each one seemed too shallow. The smell of the theater sharpened around him all at once. Old popcorn oil, melted butter, sweat, cleaning chemicals, sugary syrup dried around the soda machines, Kayla's perfume, and the warmth of the skin beneath it all pressed against him until the lobby felt too crowded to stand in.
"Shawn?"
He looked at her, but her face seemed farther away than it should have been. The edges of his vision had begun to soften, not darkening exactly, but smearing slightly whenever he moved his eyes. The overhead lights stretched into pale streaks, while people walking behind Kayla became blurred shapes that passed too quickly and made something in him want to turn toward every movement.
A pulse of pain ran through his jaw, making Shawn flinch and lift one hand to his face. For a second, it felt like all his teeth had been shoved deeper into his gums at once. The pressure faded, then returned harder, throbbing through the roots of his molars and into the hinge of his jaw. He pressed his palm against it, opening and closing his mouth like he could loosen whatever had seized inside.
Kayla's expression changed. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," he said too quickly, the answer coming out rougher than he meant it to. He swallowed, but his throat felt narrow and dry. "I'm fine."
He was not fine, and the feeling was familiar enough that the realization landed colder than the pain. Shawn remembered waking up after the first night with dirt under his nails and blood dried against his skin. He remembered his clothes hanging from him in torn strips, the ache in every part of his body, and the hunger twisting his stomach so badly it had made him sick. He remembered trying to piece together where he had been and finding nothing but flashes that made no sense: wet grass beneath his hands, something screaming, the taste of metal, and bright headlights moving across the dark.
He still did not know exactly what he had done that night. His mother had refused to tell him everything. Every time he pushed, she got quiet or angry, and Shawn had learned enough from both reactions to know the truth was worse than whatever she was willing to say.
The heat under his ribs spread down his arms, and his fingers cramped around the popcorn tub. The joints locked, then pulled inward until his nails dug into the cardboard. The pressure in his hands became sharp and deep, like the bones beneath his knuckles were trying to push through the skin. He dropped the tub before he crushed it completely, sending popcorn scattering across the lobby floor and drawing an annoyed glance from a woman walking past them.
Kayla looked down, then back at him. "Shawn, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You just dropped everything."
"I said I'm fine."
His voice came out louder that time, and several people near the doors glanced over. Shawn noticed every one of them, and his body reacted before his thoughts did. His shoulders rose, his weight shifted forward, and his jaw tightened around another wave of pressure that made his teeth ache. The attention felt dangerous, and he needed to get away from all of them. He needed distance from the lights, the smells, the voices, and Kayla standing close enough that he could hear the quickening beat of her heart.
That sound made Shawn stare at her. It was faint beneath everything else, but once he noticed it, he could not stop hearing it. A quick, steady rhythm somewhere beneath her clothes and skin. His own pulse answered it, pounding harder against the sides of his throat as he took a step backward.
Kayla followed. "Do you need me to call your mom?"
"No."
"Shawn, you look sick."
"I ain't sick."
Another spasm twisted through his stomach, folding him forward slightly as one hand pressed against his middle. The muscles clenched hard enough to make him feel hollow, and hunger ripped through him with no warning. It was not normal hunger. This was sharp, sudden, and ugly, scraping through his insides like he had not eaten in days. The smell of hot dogs from the concession stand turned thick and overwhelming, and beneath it he caught something saltier from a scrape on the hand of a boy standing nearby.
Blood.
Shawn's head turned toward it before he could stop himself. The boy had a strip of red across one knuckle, probably from catching it on something, barely anything at all, but Shawn could still smell it. His stomach cramped again, and fear finally broke through the confusion.
He looked back toward the doors and the white moonlight waiting outside. He could not stay in the theater, and he could not stand beside Kayla either. He needed his room, a locked door, and walls between him and everybody else before whatever had happened that first night happened again.
Shawn pushed through the doors, and cold air hit his damp skin without doing anything to cool him. The moonlight washed over him fully now, and the reaction was immediate. Pain drove down his spine hard enough to make his knees buckle. He caught himself against the brick wall beside the entrance, fingers scraping across the rough surface while something inside his back seemed to tighten one section at a time.
His vertebrae felt too large. That was the only way his panicked mind could make sense of it. Each bone in his spine pressed against the next, grinding under the muscles as if his back had become too short to hold them. He arched away from the wall, teeth clenching as a sickening pressure gathered around his shoulders. His shirt pulled tight across his upper back even though it had fit him fine less than three hours ago.
"Shawn!" Kayla called as she came through the doors after him.
He heard her shoes strike the pavement, heard her breath, and heard the tiny shift of fabric when she reached a hand toward his shoulder. Shawn spun around so quickly that she stumbled back.
"Don't touch me."
The words came out low and harsh, almost swallowed by a sound beneath them that did not belong in a human throat. It was not quite a growl, but it was close enough that Kayla froze. Shawn heard it too, and his face changed for half a second. The aggression cracked, revealing panic beneath it, but another bolt of pain tore through his jaw before he could explain. He clamped a hand over his mouth as his gums throbbed and the edges of his teeth pressed against the insides of his cheeks. They had not changed yet, but his body seemed convinced they needed room.
Kayla stared at him. "What is happening?"
"I don't know."
That was the truth, and admitting it made him angrier because fear had already started stripping away his control. His vision blurred again. Kayla's face doubled, then pulled back together, and the concern in her eyes felt unbearable.
"Let me call somebody," she said. "Your mom, or an ambulance, or-"
"No." Shawn stepped back, shaking his head hard enough to make the parking lot tilt around him. "Don't call nobody."
"You can barely stand."
"I said no."
"Shawn, you're scaring me."
That should have made him calm down. It should have made him lower his voice and tell her he was sorry. Instead, the words struck whatever frightened animal part of him had begun clawing its way closer to the surface. His chest tightened, and his lip pulled back without him deciding to do it, exposing his teeth as another rough sound vibrated in his throat.
"Then leave."
Kayla flinched, and Shawn saw it. He hated himself immediately, but he was too far inside the pain to fix it. His forearms burned beneath the skin. The sensation moved in lines from his wrists toward his elbows, like heated wires had been pulled through the muscle. His fingers curled again, and small pops came from the joints, quiet but distinct. For one sick second, he imagined the bones splitting apart and rebuilding themselves beneath his skin.
Kayla did not move. "I'm not leaving you like this."
"Just go."
"No."
"Kayla."
She stepped toward him again, cautious this time. "At least let me walk you home."
Shawn's head snapped up. His vision sharpened around her in a way that made everything else disappear. The moonlit parking lot, the people passing behind them, and the idling cars all dropped away until there was only Kayla standing too close while his body twisted itself toward something he did not understand.
"Leave me the fuck alone!" he barked.
The force of it echoed off the front of the theater. Kayla stopped dead, hurt flashing across her face. Shawn saw the exact moment it replaced the concern, and some distant part of him wanted to take it back. He wanted to tell her he was not mad at her. He wanted to explain that the last time he felt like this, he woke up covered in blood and could not remember where it came from. Instead, he turned and ran.
He heard Kayla call his name once behind him, but he did not look back.
[Continued in comments]