The Werewolves Crew

Matt is an ordinary boy with a horrible family. One day he leaves for school and his life is thrown upside down when he encounters not only the police but notorious criminals The Werewolves Crew. As he's been chased through the streets for crimes he didn't commit, one of the Werewolves, a girl named Scar comes to his aid and makes him a member, Mutt.


2. What makes a Werewolf

  The car swerved as he drove up the street. His tires screeched against the concrete and a couple of cats darted in front of his car, he turned to avoid them and nearly crashed into the wall on the corner of the road. His beer spilled on to the passenger seat.

  “Shit,” he downed the dregs before throwing the can out of the window.

  The perks of working the closing shift in an off license, there was no one to stop you drinking your way through the stock.

  There was no doubt his wife would complain if she knew he was drinking in the car but it was only a matter of time before they found an excuse to fire him anyway, so why bother?

  The only reason they were in this mess in the first place was because that’s what happened to sixteen year olds with a kid. He knew that was the only reason she’d stayed with him all these years. She hated him. If it wasn’t for the kid she would have left a long time ago and the three of them wouldn’t be stuck in this miserable cycle. She hated him, the kid hated him. He cracked open another beer and pressed down on the accelerator.




  The pavement was hard against his back, the cracks digging in to his skin as he fell. Matt flinched as something hit the front door, slamming it shut behind him. His heart hammered painfully in his chest, thankfully whatever it was had missed its target.

  Matt staggered to his feet, scraping his palms on the rough ground and took off running down the street. He ignored his untied laces, not daring to stop to tie them and wiped the blood running from his nose with his sleeve.

  He couldn’t miss the bloodcurdling scream that followed. A shiver went down his spine and his steps faltered. He couldn’t take anymore, a hard knot formed in his stomach and he swung a badly aimed fist at the window of his dad’s car. It was crashed in to a lamppost at the end of the street, the bumper was dented beyond repair and the lamppost was bent at an alarming angle. Broken glass was sprinkled on the ground like a demented piñata had exploded.  

  The window barely cracked, mocking him. A dark purple bruise spread like an oil spill across his sure to be broken knuckles. He knew he’d be made to regret it later.

  “Fuck.” He swore through gritted teeth and clutched his hand to his chest. Through the window he could see a crate of empty beer bottles on the passenger seat. The knots in Matt’s stomach clenched, he lifted a foot and kicked out at the side of the car, reveling at the dint that appeared.

  His victory was short lived. He’d barely put his foot back on the ground before the car alarm screeched; only giving him a second to admire his handiwork.

  Not needing telling twice he ran. And this time the screaming didn’t stop him.


  Matt was out of breath by the time he cleared the estate. Panic sending his heart racing with every step as his feet pounded the pavement, desperate to get away. His ears were ringing, but he drowned it out like he always did. The car alarm was still blearing in the distance but he didn’t care, it was the least of his worries. 

  He lifted an arm and swiped at the blood leaking from his nose in a steady stream, mixing with the blood already seeping through his t-shirt. Matt placed a hand on his chest as a crippling pain shot through him, almost doubling him over. The backs of his eyes burnt, a lump had lodged itself in his throat. “Go!” The words were like a knife carving in to his brain. “Go, and don’t come back.”

  He tugged his jacket closer round him, the zip not having worked for a long time. Still he shivered against the early morning chill. Holding an unsteady hand out in front of him, he realizing he was shaking.

  The sky was clear but dull, a muddy pink smudge against the usual blue. A thin layer of fog was clinging to the broken, overgrown pavement and wrapping around his ankles as he ran.   

  The streets were empty. Bloody and bruised, he wasn’t expecting anyone to stop and help him. This was far from the worst thing to have happened on the Grove estate.

  As Matt took a corner at a run his laces tangled around his feet. He almost bit his tongue as he tripped, probably because it was swollen to the size of a brick. He threw his arms out to grab the wall, almost saving himself from falling but his raw palms stung and he flinched away.

  The ground disappeared from under him and he hit the concrete hard, tearing the skin of his knees open as he skidded. He winced and dropped back against the wall with a grunt. Matt quickly wiped the gravel off the holes in the knees of the jeans.

  It shouldn’t have been as difficult as it was to free his ankles from the laces. Each one was frayed with age and parts had stuck to the tape covering rips on his shoes. Despite trembling hands and cut palms he tied a doubled knot before tucking the laces in to the side of shoes, hoping they didn’t come loose again.

  Then Matt’s whole body flinched as noise exploded behind him. He jumped nearly clean out of his skin and flew away from the wall. His head shot up as the dog threw itself in to the gate again, clearly furious with Matt’s intrusion. The barks sliced through him, leaving his heart in his throat. He took a panicked step back, his foot slipped off the curb and he stumbled out on to the road. The dog was rattling the gate, clawing at him. Matt tensed when heard shouting from inside the house. Whether or not it was at him, he ran before he could find out.

   Once he was out of the street a car flew past him and he shot back on to the pavement. His mind whirled, making his head throb. He dug the heels of his palms in to his eyes, suppressing a sob. “Don’t come back.” The words taunted him. He tried to carry on running but his legs wouldn’t obey.

  Clutching the wall next to him Matt slowed to catch a breath. Feeling bile rise in his throat the world caught up with him and his stomach emptied far worse than any hangover could have. He tightened his grip but his knees gave out.

  He retched until his body had nothing left, leaving him panting and glazed with sweat. After his stomach was decidedly finished with him he sunk back against the wall, dropping head to his hands.

  The pain in his chest worsened as he struggled to breathe. Panic gripped him before he managed a draw a pained breath.   

  Matt tried to stand but his body rejected the thought. His arms shook, refusing to hold up his weight and he fell back down to the floor as more blood poured from his nose. He drew his knees up to his chest as he saw the first drop of blood hit the pavement.

  Pinching the bridge of nose, he threw his head back and waited in vain for the bleeding to stop.

  What on earth had he done to deserve this? “Go!” When was this shit ever going end? “Don’t come back.”

  Matt didn’t know the answers. All he knew was that he could never go back. “Save yourself …”

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