It was stupid for him to be acting so silly, he knew it was just fake so why was he taking it so hard? Not everything about werewolves had to do with his family, with his life. He shivered a little in the darkness, the corners of his mouth twitching a little upward at her reassurances. "I know you aint like that," he said quietly.

"I just..." he moved his hands from his face, taking and squeezing Ginger's. He forced a smile and then looked down at their hands as if he could find the answer scribbled on the back of his hand. He took a deep breath and briefly closed his eyes. "Werewolf talk gets me a little... upset because... two summers ago when we were camping my whole family got attacked by one.

With his free hand he lifted the front of his shirt and his hoodie, showing the four long scars that dragged across his chest from his left shoulder to just below his right pectoral. "There are five more on my back just like these," he said quietly.

Pulling his shirt down he sighed. "It slashed us all up with it's claws, bit my brother Felix. He died the next morning," he wiped at his face feeling the wetness from a tear. "Instead of coming together, the whole thing tore us apart. Now my parents are separated and they can barely sit in the same room together for more than twenty minutes without fighting it out."

"There's this... stupid, senseless, guilty weight resting right here," he said putting his hand over his chest. "At any moment I feel like it's just going to break something inside," he shook his head. "I'm sorry, you don't need me to dump all this on you. I just... I guess I didn't want to keep it from you anymore and there are only two other people outside the family that really know what happened."

He looked into the fire for a while, not sure what to say next.