Hello! I guess you could say I'm new on the block, but I'm going to write an account of Lawrence for the month when he is in Lambeth Asylum. I'm keeping it as true to the film as possible and may add some bits in but I don't intend on missing anything out!

On saying that, there may be distressing scenes and also graphic violence. It is rated T, if you think it is unsuitable, drop me a line

Disclaimer: I don't own the Wolfman or any Wolfman characters! Trust me, would I lie to you?

Lawrence blinked. Light was streaming in from the bars, blinding him. Blinking back the rays he tried to look around.

He couldn't.

He tried to move his head to the left.

He couldn't.

To the right.

Nothing.

He suddenly became horribly aware that he could not move his shoulders, arms or legs. He had a throbbing bruise on his forehead and felt a trickle of blood run from his eyebrow to his mouth.

Something was wrong

He could hear the quiet talk of men, muffled into melody, indistinct above the clopping of horse hooves.

Where was he? What was he doing here? He casted his mind back to what had happened...

Blood. He was covered in it. He could smell its putrid vapour, taste its metallic savour. His clothes were ripped and torn.

Panic set in, what had he done?

Leaving the unmerciful look of his father's face, he started towards the Talbot Mannor. It was very painful. Every muscle within him ached and gashes in his legs did nothing to improve this.

Horses where coming towards his faster and faster; too fast for him.

He blinked blood out of his eyes and before he knew it, he was surrounded by men on horseback.

Feeling hazy he spun around, desperate for an escape route, to his dismay there was none.

"On your knees!" A man yelled.

Lawrence fell to the floor on his bruised knees, silently praying for help that he knew would never come.

A man got off his horse in front of him holding his shotgun directly in front of his heart.

Lawrence remembered thinking please, shoot me. It's not what it looks like. But he seemed to have lost the will to speak.

The man before him seemed to stare into his soul. The look of utter loathing on his face was unbearable.

He raised the shotgun high and brought in down on Lawrence's jaw.

Everything went black.

He gasped.

All the terrible things he must have done. How many families had he torn apart. How many people had he killed to create that much blood?

"Hello?" He called out.

The murmur of voices ceased at once, listening.

"Hello?" he asked again. "Can you hear me?"

He tried move and realised again that he was completely tied down in a straight jacket in the back of a carriage. Where was the carriage going? He had a suspicion but all it did was fill him with utter dread.

"Let me out!" he cried "Please, let me out! PLEASE!"

He tried to move his head to look around the carriage but the strains meant he couldn't move at all. All he could do was to look up at the ceiling of the carriage and the small window fitted with bars, where sunlight drifted through.

A door creaked open and footsteps approached his head. A figure loomed over him.

The man had a receding hair line and cold fishy eyes. He smiled, a toothless sadistically grin as he gazed into Lawrence's scared eyes.

"Sleep tight little Lawrence, we'll be in London soon"

"No..." Lawrence said weakly "NO! NO! NO! N-"

Too late, the man had pulled out a syringe and with a quick flick injected it into his neck.

"No..." said Lawrence weakly as he felt frail and limp.

He willed his eyes to remain open but try as he might they were closing, darkness descended and Lawrence fell into an unwanted sleep; plagued with nightmarish screaming and a howl at the full moon...

What do you think? Short, but it is just an intro after all. Probably not as good as the film but I try my best. Any spelling mistakes I will correct. Reviews most welcome!

Until next chapter...