I'm not perfect - Werewolf story

I was running, as fast as I could. My legs hurt so bad, my lungs were slowly losing air as I breathed heavily. I didn't want to look at anything, because all I could see was blood. My scenses steered me. I was being controlled like some sort of robotic monster. My wolf senses told me to turn around and face my fears, to look at them, right in eyes and fight. But the other, human, part of me told me to run, as fast as I could, and avoid the monster at all costs. I know know i should have listened. All of a sudden, I tured and suddenly the blood in my eyes dissapeared, meaning al I could see was the beast. It was horrible, covered in blood. It looked at me and roared, it saliva wasn't even spit, it was blood, and it soaked my hair. My wolf scenses had dominated my human ones. Oh, Crud, I thought as the beast got closer, dripping blod from it's jaws, and suddenly I heard the scream... the same scream that came from my Mum as she was murdered 2 years ago, by this same beast. And then the rage of so many months built up in me, like hot water suddnely sweeping my skin. It felt good, almost satisfactory. I liked the feeling. It built up and up, until I was full of it, and I did something I hadn't done in years...
I shifted.
It was painful, like knives stabbing me in all directions, and you have no clue how much it hurt. I wasn't used to it any more, and that's why it hurt so bad...
And only a few seconds later, I found myself as the attractive wolf who longed for the blood of the beast who killed my mother. I knew it was foolish, but it was to late...
I jumped at the beast...

I woke up screaming. I was sweating, breathing heavily and I could tell I'd been squirming because my bed sheets where all over. Just another dream. But this time, it had seemed so real... so... scary and so horribly wrong. I knew that wasn't a dream, but I couldn't quite work out what you would call it. I looked over at my alarm clock. It was 5:00 am. I didn't need to wake for another few hours or so. I walked over to my mirror on my dressing table and looked at myself. I was still a bit sweaty, but I looked OK. I was pretty god looking, not to boast or anying. My silver streaked black hair was a little past the shoulders, my pale skin made me look like a ghost. I was slim and tall, my eyes... hang on... my eyes were a fading red colour. They were turning purple again. That meant I'd been angry or in a killer mood. Killer, probably. The one downfall to having eyes like these are every one else knows how I'm feeling.
Nevermind, though. I'm tried.
I'm just gonna...
Go to...
Sleep...
And maybe, when I wake up... I can ponder that dream.