I think you cry to much. I can't take the stains out of my shirt. I can't do shit about the hurt. I'm sorry that I try so hard. I can't take the pain away...

He shook the snow from his fur, shifting back to his human for, grimacing as his bones transformed and warped, before slipping into the open back door, just in time to see his mother returning home from work.

He could here the key sliding into the slot, he could here the other keys and nick knacks clashing together, the noise exploding in his ear drums.

He rushed up the stairs, not wanting the woman to see him in his unclothed state and question where his clothes had gone.

He could tell her, she would never understand if he told her the truth.

He'd spent the past eight hours he should have been at school, frolicking around deep in the snow cushioned woods starting behind his adopted mothers property, as a wolf.

Escaping into the en suit off his room, grabbing a towel from the hook, and scrubbing viciously at his exposed arm, which was covered in dark etchings from the patch of thistles he had fallen into.

He wanted the blood gone, it was only a reminder of a bad memory, swelling in the back of his mind, preparing to explode from him.

It was how they had found him.

Fished from the water and miraculously still alive, he couldn't remember anything, or so he said.

Truth was, he had thrown himself off Helen Point, he remembered a lot of things.

His name was Malakai.

He cut himself.

He was a shape shifter.

He had a pack, somewhere.

To someone like him, that was a lot, especially since the only reason he was even released from hospital, and not sent to a facility, was because he insisted he couldn't remember what the cuts were from.

Doctors suspected self inflicted, they were right, but the shape shifter would never admit it.

I don't know what they are from. Who the hell would purposely cut themselves? Do you think I did that? Why would I do that?

He was very persistent.

And his mother was very eager to adopt him.

He hadn't understood she kept visiting him in hospital.

Her oldest son had been on the crew that fished him out of the water, her second son, was the medic on the boat at the time, and had literally brought Malakai back to life.

The two boys told the night like it was some sort of night terror.

"Oh my god, what is that?"

"It's a kid!"

"Someone get Asher!"

The deck was warm compared to the icy water, and the sailor's hands burned him.

He could feel heated hand pressing against his chest, one, two, three.

He could feel his ribs snapping.

Immense pain flood through him.

He threw his head to the side, salt water pouring out his lungs and onto the deck.

He clutched his chest, screaming in pain.

He was conscious, and in unforgettable pain all the way to shore, and all the way to the medical center.

His mother praised them for their bravery, and she praised Malakai for being so strong.

The doctors said he should be dead, or at least brain dead.

His brain was so oxygen starved, it was a miracle he was alive.

Only he knew the true reason her survived.

It would always be his secret.

My name is Malakai, and I'm a shapeshifter.