Puerta Mibela, La Perdita
56 Oakwood Avenue
Fifth Floor
Apartment 501
Sam Dawson sat on his couch, shadows covering his face and chest. His head was still throbbing from one of the longest days of his life. Only once before had he been in so much pain. But he would rather not think about that. Opening a medical kit, he took out bandages. Taking off his shirt and dropping it to the ground, his chest was a mixed shade of black and blue. His arms were deeply sliced up, the wounds still somewhat fresh.
Unraveling the ace bandage, Sam tightly wrapped both of his arms up. Leaving just enough room for movement, but not enough to see his injuries. Being able to shape shift is great at blocking injuries from the eye, but his body needs time to really heal just like everyone else. Some injuries, such as broken bones were easier to will back into place. Cuts, bruises, burn marks, these small things were much harder to fix. Better to just let nature take its course. Next, he cleaned and covered his leg wounds.
Holding his head, he moved into the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he took out a container of Pain Medication. Placing a few pills in his hand, he didn’t even hesitate before throwing them back. Pills, medicine, such things he had to get used to in his normal routine after the incident.
Finally his glance rose to that of the mirror. His blond hair messy and thrown about, the darkness still covering his face. Clicking on the light, his image became clear in the mirror.
His expression cold. Angry. Sam starred into his own eyes, almost as if his reflection was someone else. His line of sight, never strayed, his anger never letting up.
The skin on the right side of his face was red and blistered. The burn scars locked deep within, his appearance unrecognizable. The deformity traveled down his chest and around his lower backside. After a few moments, Sam shifted his body into the only form everyone else knows.
To them it’s his true form.
His true self.
In reality, it is only a mask; against the truth.
