5. Awakening of the curse

The night was still, but Jake's heart pounded as if he were running from something unseen. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, drenched in sweat. The room was dark, except for the faint moonlight streaming through the curtains. The usual satisfaction he felt after another night of triumph—both on the field and with Samantha—was gone, replaced by an overwhelming sense of emptiness.

He turned over, trying to shake the feeling, but it only grew stronger, gnawing at him from within. His body was tense, his skin crawling with an unfamiliar sensation that made his muscles tighten as if preparing for something terrible. Something was wrong.

Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through his chest, taking his breath away. Jake clutched at his ribs, feeling as though his bones were twisting under his skin. The pain intensified, spreading like wildfire through his entire body. Every nerve screamed in agony. It was as if every bone in his body was cracking—splintering—at once.

Jake's hands dug into the mattress, his fingers tearing at the sheets as he tried to suppress a scream. His spine arched off the bed as the pain surged, a deep, primal growl escaping from his throat. His vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt like his skull was about to split in two. The sensation was unbearable, like he was being torn apart from the inside out.

He rolled out of bed, crashing to the floor with a heavy thud. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his body shaking violently. He gasped for air, but every breath came with a searing pain, as if his lungs were being compressed by an invisible force. The sound of his bones shifting—snapping and resetting—was nauseating, echoing in the stillness of the room.

Jake's mind raced. What is happening to me? He knew the answer, deep down. He had been warned. The curse was waking up, the werewolf inside him was beginning to take control.

As the pain intensified, memories he had long tried to bury began to resurface. His mother—Elena—had been part of an ancient lineage of wolves , a legacy passed down through generations. She had abandoned Jake and his father soon after he was born, disappearing without a trace. His father never spoke of her, leaving Jake to grow up with a void he could never fill. But now, the blood of the ancient wolves coursing through his veins was claiming him, and he was powerless to stop it.

A guttural howl tore from Jake's throat as his body convulsed, his skin burning as if it were being stretched too thin over his bones. He felt his limbs elongating, his muscles swelling, and his joints popping out of place. His nails grew into sharp claws, digging into the wooden floor as he tried to steady himself.

He was alone, completely vulnerable in the dark, and it terrified him. There was no one to turn to, no one to help him through the agony. Jake had always been surrounded by people—girls who adored him, teammates who looked up to him—but in this moment, none of that mattered. His fame, his charm, his confidence—it all crumbled in the face of the curse that was consuming him.

Jake dragged himself toward the window, needing to feel the cool air against his burning skin. Every movement was excruciating, but he managed to pull himself up, leaning heavily on the window sill. He stared out into the night, the full moon hanging low in the sky, mocking him with its cold, silvery glow.

He felt a tear slip down his cheek. It wasn't from the physical pain—he could endure that—but from the crushing realization that he was utterly alone. He had always been surrounded by people, but in truth, he had never felt more isolated than he did now. He needed someone—someone special who could understand him, someone who could calm the storm raging inside him. But he had no one. No one who truly knew him. No one who could help him bear the weight of this curse.

Another wave of pain hit, and Jake collapsed to the floor, his body trembling uncontrollably. His mind fogged with agony, but through the haze, a single thought broke through: Naina. Her face flashed in his mind, and for a moment, he felt a flicker of hope. There was something about her—something different. She didn't fawn over him like the others. She wasn't charmed by his fame or his looks. She saw him, the real him, even though she didn't fully understand the darkness he carried.

But even as he thought of her, the pain continued, relentless and merciless. The transformation was happening , and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His body continued to shift, his bones cracking and reforming with brutal efficiency. His skin itched and burned as patches of fur began to sprout across his arms and chest. He could feel his face elongating, his teeth sharpening into fangs.

Jake tried to hold on to his humanity, to resist the beast clawing its way to the surface, but it was no use. The curse was too strong, and it demanded control. He was no longer Jake Reynolds, the Casanova, the football star. He was becoming something else—something dangerous, something primal.

The transformation finally slowed, and Jake lay there, panting, his body trembling from the effort. He could feel the beast inside him, lurking just beneath the surface, waiting for the next full moon to take over completely.

As the pain subsided, a new feeling settled over him— a profound loneliness. His mother had left him to face this curse alone, abandoning him before he could even understand what he was. And now, he was trapped in the same cycle of isolation. He was cursed to live half a life—human by day, beast by night. There was no escape.

But as Jake lay there, staring up at the ceiling, he couldn't help but think of Naina. Could she be the one to help him? Could she be the one to calm the chaos inside him? Or would she run, like everyone else, once she saw the monster he truly was?

The thought lingered in his mind as exhaustion finally claimed him. His body slowly began to revert, bones shifting back into place, the fur receding. But the curse wasn't gone. It never would be.

And as the night wore on, Jake knew that this was just the beginning.