Chapter 5: The Rebirth of Kimberly Silversmith.

Kimberly darted her tear-filled eyes at the grey sky above her. “Where am I?” She thought to herself, as she struggled to remember how she found herself lying on the dirty ground of the dark woods. 

Suddenly, an intense feeling of excruciating pain traveled throughout her body, stopping just before her legs. She couldn't feel them. Forcing her head up to look down at her legs, the searing pain from her neck wound threw her back down, making her yelp in pain, “Arghhh!”

Putting pressure on the wound she had no idea how she got, she tried to look at her legs again. She was curious to know why she couldn't feel them. This time she saw it, her right leg was bent in an adjacent position pointing towards her hand and her left leg, trapped underneath a log. 

Kimberly's eyes widened at the horrendous state of her body, she began whimpering in pain and fear. Her clothes which were torn apart by claw marks, and were soaked in her own blood. Her head throbbed with an unnerving migraine and her spine felt like it was cemented to the ground, with its own different kind of intense pain.

“H..help,” she tried to voice out but her voice was barely audible, a faint whisper muffled by the darkness of the eerie woods. 

In that moment of great despair, she felt it again, that powerful surge of energy that had woken her up. It resonated from her head down to legs, increasing in intensity. 

She felt an urge to move and attempt to straighten her bent leg, so she did. As soon as she did, an anguished shriek exploded from her vocal cords. It was followed by the crack of her bones, forcing her legs back into its right position. 

“Garhhh!” She yelled as she felt all her dislocated bones crunch and grind into place, like twigs snapping. 

As soon as the pain subsided, with all her bones back in place, Kimberly jerkily forced her weak body to stand up, her movements unsteady. 

Her eyes, which held thousands of questions in them, met the dilapidated building before her. She ignored it. With a sense of trepidation, she stumbled away from the bloody scene, her bare feet carrying her into the main road.

It was late in the night, with no humans or cars in sight. She staggered into the main road, her eyes scanning the vicinity for a savior. Unfortunately, all she could see was an oppressive dark and lonely road. 

Just then, Kimberly heard a truck coming from a far distance. The truck’s wheels growled closer and louder, as she frantically searched the road for it. She stood there, on the center of the road, perplexed. The truck emerged from the opposite direction from where she was facing, honking loudly at her. She jolted and raised her hands to shield her eyes from the blinding lamp lights of the truck.

To her dismay, the truck didn't stop, instead it swerved right past her and sped away, leaving her alone and vulnerable once more. With a sigh of despair, she resigned herself to her fate and began to trudge away. 

Despite the exhaustion that threatened to consume her, she continued walking with an unknown strength. Mile after mile, she didn't stop walking as she followed her instincts which mysteriously brought her back to her house.

“Mom!” She called out, stumbling into her house. She was eager to see a familiar face and a listening ear to share her terrifying experience with. But what struck her as odd was that the door was unlocked, and was left slightly open. Her family has always been tough on security but leaving the door unlocked and slightly opened was bizarre.

“Mom!” she called again, her eyes scanning the empty hallway. “Clark?” her voice trembled as she called out for her brother, but the silence she met was oppressive. She staggered up the stairs, knocking on their doors as she yelled out for her family to answer. “Dad? Clark? Aaron? Anybody!?” Her tender voice echoed off the walls as she was met with a deafening silence in response. 

Dropping her shoulders in dismay, she walked into her bedroom. The room was as she left it, a stark reminder that nobody bothered to check on her or notice she was gone. 

Kimberly's heart ached for the kind of family she had. She knew they all barely stayed home, but the total absence this time around from all of them was eerie.

She headed straight to the bathroom to wash off her body which had a mixture of blood and dirt. As she turned on the warm shower, she began to undress, revealing the gruesome wounds that still lingered. 

To her surprise, the gaped wounds seemed like it was already healing, albeit slowly.

She stepped into the shower, wincing as the water cascaded down on her tender skin, the pain still sharp enough to make her hiss. Gently and with care, she washed away the dirt and blood. As soon as she was done, she left the bathroom, her body craving for the sanctuary of her bed and her solace of sleep.

She slipped on a baggy t-shirt and deliberately laid down on her mattress, her exhaustion overwhelming her. Her eyes fluttered close in surrender, she drifted off to sleep.

* * * * * *

Nicholas stood tall on the balcony of his mountain-top mansion, staring into the night. The moon casted an eerie glow on his dark hair as it rustled in the gentle night breeze.

With his chiseled features unyielding, his piercing eyes betrayed a flicker of unease. His mind raced back to the brief moment just before he viscously maimed Kimberly with his claws. His fierce eyes had locked with hers, but all he could find in her eyes was pure innocence and horror.

His broad chest rose and fell with a deep breath, as if stifling a pang of guilt. But his expression quickly hardened, masking any semblance of remorse, replaced by an air of detachment and superiority. 

“She deserves it,” he muttered under breaths. But did she? He heard his conscience taunt him. His conscience, he wondered when he started having one. 

Just then, his Beta saunted in. “With her death, her parents will abruptly pause on the attack.” He heard Sheila, his right-hand-wolf, proclaim. 

“Not till they find her dead body.” Nicholas replied curtly.

“And they will, right?” Sheila asked, making Nicholas jerk his head towards her. With a devilish smirk, he responded, “ohh yes they will. They will find her on the grounds of the house where her family annihilated mine and burned my father's house to the ground!” his voice rose. 

“She's just the beginning, Sheila,” he continued. “Unfortunately for them, with the hunter's curse, each and every one of them shall feel the excruciating pain, times ten more than the pain my father, my mother and my sister felt, before they died.” 

Sheila's lips curled into a sinister smile, “Too bad for them, the Hunters' curse comes with a cruel twist - they're immune to Lycanthropy. Instead of transforming, they'll suffer an agonizing death,” Sheila stated.

“It's intriguing, don't you think, Nicholas?” Said Sheila as she leaned back, a subtle smug appearing on her face. She continued, “The witches that granted them power seemed to intentionally design it that way, ensuring their demise would be slow and torturous.” Sheila scoffed.

“Is that pity I hear in your tone?” Nicholas asked as he narrowed his gaze at her.

Sheila smirked, “Don't be ridiculous Nicholas, you know I never pity anyone,” she retorted.

Nicholas stood unfazed, his hands deep inside his pockets. “It was done that way so that they would never become like us. As long as they all have the hunters' blood in them, the curse makes sure they die a hunter and not a werewolf.” He averred in a low tone. 

“Of course, they'll never become like us. They are inferior and their fate is well-deserved,” Sheila stated in a condescending tone. 

Nicholas remained in a stoic pose as he heard Sheila speak. Of course, the Silversmith Werewolf Hunters were inferior to them, yet they were able to annihilate his whole family. His eyes flinched with anger.

“So who are we killing next?” he heard Sheila ask, excitement evident in her voice.

In a low but menacing tone, he responded, “the twin brothers. Aaron first, then Clark. I want them to feel the loss I felt, ONE AT A TIME.”