Back to health

This is my first ever attempt at writefaggotry, pls no booly.

// From June 1, 2017 //

>'Another full moon is coming in a few more days,' you remind yourself, glancing back down from the night sky.
>Another full moon filled with excruciating need, and nothing but loneliness in return.
>You can't remember the last time you had someone to share one with, if you ever even did.
>Proactive dating was never appealing to you, and all of the few friends you ever made ended up drifting away when you voiced your concern for the men they -- for all intents and purposes -- kidnapped.
>Sighing, you walk slowly along the crumbling sidewalk with your head down, breaths shallow and hesitant.
>This really isn't a nice part of town, in fact, you probably shouldn't be here at all even in the middle of the day.
>But this is the shortest route to the cheapest food you could find in this overpriced hellhole, so you keep going, hyper-aware of your surroundings, ever vigilant in case someone got any bright ideas.
>Well, you could easily overpower any human dumb enough to fuck with you but ambush is a great equalizer in this maze of narrow empty streets and labyrinth of claustrophobic alleyways.
>Your tail starts to hurt slightly in memory of what happened the last time you were caught off guard around these parts.
>Great hearing can be a real pain in the ass, especially when all you can hear is your blood rushing around your ears in time with your thumping heart in all its nervousness.

>That is until the screeching and squealing of tires makes your blood run cold and hair **and tail** stand on end.
>Ducking into the nearest alleyway, you pray to whatever sort of god out there that the people or mamono in the car didn't see you.
>The dark isn't always as nice of camouflage as people make it seem, especially with the light of a gibbous moon.
>The car stops just past the entrance of your alleyway, on the opposite side of the street.
>Shit
>SHIT!
>But the doors don't open yet, and the car is still idling, though with its lights off.
>You can't see what's going on but you can hear it.
>Oh you certainly can hear it.
>This is about the time where you should be NOPEing the fuck right out of dodge.
>But something tugs at your mind, forcing you to stay in morbid curiosity.
>Layers of shouting voices from two or three different females, the words indecipherable due to the muffling caused by the car.
>One voice from a male, so faint you feel like you might be imagining it.
>But then a door opens.
>THUD
>Then another door.
>A familiar sound comes sailing to your ears, that of wood hitting bone. Baseball bats on flesh.
>You really should be getting the fuck out by now. Really. Fucking run.
>But you silence that voice in your head and get back to listening. Giggles and jeers flow from the mouths of the females, followed by a smug 'Come crawling back anytime now~'
>The doors open and close, and you hear tires squeal as the car peels out, lights still off, and flies down the roadway.
>Cautiously, you lean out of your hiding place and look to where the car was parked, choking down your horror at what you see.
>Yes, there was a male. Yes, he was bludgeoned. Yes, he is bound and gagged, explaining how his screams never reached you over the sounds of the baseball bats.
>And there are manticore spines all over his arms, making him look like a living voodoo doll.

>You don't know what the fuck you should do.
>If those were mamono that did this to him, and if you went to the police, they would send him right back to them despite any pleas or protest. No one would believe him, especially since mamono 'never ever' harm their 'husbands'. He's just over-reacting. It doesn't matter if men flee their homes screaming in panic and pain from being slashed open by the claws of their 'wife', or if they are mentally abused until they finally snap. Every last one is sent back to the mamono who claimed him.
>What the hell are you going to do now?
>This was NOT what you wanted to have to deal with today, or ever for that matter.
>Poor guy is only wearing rags too, nothing to cover his upper body despite the ~40°F temperature on the eaves of winter.
>Something tells you he has nowhere to go, and that death awaits him any minute if he is left alone.
>You slowly start to move towards his general direction, making sure no one else is out and about.
>He appears to be unconscious, and as you approach it seems that he is also blindfolded under his messy black hair.
>You try to assess his wounds from the baseball bats, which thankfully only seemed to have been to his legs, and not something worse like his ribs or arms or face.
>Try as you might, however, you are increasingly drawn to older wounds on his chest, face, and abdomen.
>Cigarette burns, old and fading bruises, chunks of his ears missing, a series of star-shaped patterns of puncture wounds leading from his chest to his navel, and a branding mark on his sternum. You cant make out the design all that well from all the scabbing. Must be recent.
>You don't even want to look at what they did to him below the belt.
>You wish you could take him to a hospital, but you know perfectly well that neither of you can afford it, and he would just go right back to where he 'belonged' once he was healed up enough.
>You wouldn't be able to live with yourself knowing you resigned an innocent to such a fate. And besides, once he was mostly patched up he might decide to stay. You push that thought straight the fuck out of your head. You aren't helping him for an ulterior motive.

>First thing's first: you gotta get this guy patched up as best you can.
>Gingerly removing the blindfold, you see that indeed he is out cold. With that much manticore venom coursing through him you don't know if this is a blessing or a curse.
>Hopefully you don't have to find out.
>You get him into a fireman's carry, deciding to keep him in his bindings and gag until you're in a safer place.
>He's a lot lighter than you imagined, but then again he is fairly young and is quite gaunt. He's obviously not eating nearly enough to sustain himself.
>Thankfully he wasn't bleeding from the assault, but in the back of your mind you have to remind yourself to keep watching for signs of internal bleeding as well, though the risk isn't too high given where the wounds were concentrated.
>Darting in and out of alleyways and constantly switching up which streets you were taking, you finally make it back home.
>If you can call it that.
>Run-down piece of shit building in the heart of one of the town's slums. Thankfully you have it all to yourself, as most if not all humans stay as far away from you as they can. And rightfully so, since the Fall of Man.

>As you lay him down on your bed, you suddenly feel panic bubbling to the surface.
>'What if he dies on me?'
>'Will he be out of his mind on the venom or from the abuse?'
>'Will he try to attack me in fear?'
>'He'll be okay, r-right?'

// To be continued //