Amelia 'Mia' Argent has been raised to fear the supernatural. Coming from a long lineage of werewolf hunters, she is being trained to hunt and one day become the leader of her team. But when her family moves to Beacon Hills in search for an Alpha, t...
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tw: brief mentions of suicide (the hunter code thing)
Over the next few days, when her parents weren't looking, Mia would sneak into the library and take all the books about shifting she could find. Her bite was starting to heal just like a normal injury, slow and itchy. The bite itself didn't hurt anymore, but her shoulder was incredibly sore. She kept rolling it, trying to relieve the pain without having to steal medicine from her parents as well.
She flipped through several books about werewolves and other shapeshifters, trying to figure out why she wasn't healing nor dying from a bite. At first, the books looked more promising that the Internet, because they had been in her family for generations, but there was nothing about bites gone wrong in the books.
If you were bitten, you either turned into a werewolf or died. There was no third way.
Tired and in denial, Mia decided to take a little break from reading and get a glass of water. As she stood in the kitchen, bathing in the slight glow of the moon and staring blankly at the wall, she heard shuffling in the library. She quickly put her water down and made her way back, fear gripping her throat.
There, in the library, was her mother, holding one of the books Mia had been reading earlier. Victoria was flipping through the pages, her face contorted with that familiar constipated rage. When the girl entered the room, she looked up and their eyes met.
"What are you doing?" Mia asked first, because she didn't want the same question directed at her. "It's 2 am."
"Exactly," Victoria smiled at her bitterly. She closed the book with a deafening thump, "I couldn't help but wonder why my daughter was cooped up in the library this late at night."
"I've been getting into reading recently. I don't have time to read during the day, so I do it at night," she shrugged. The small movement was a mistake - her injured shoulder seized up in protest. She managed to bite back the moan of pain, but her mother still noticed the twitch in her face.
"Take your sweater off," Victoria commanded, walking closer.
"What? Why?"
"You think I didn't notice the way you kept rolling your shoulder this past week? Show me."
With gritted teeth, Mia slowly pulled off her sweater. Thankfully, she was wearing a long sleeved shirt underneath, and she doubted that her mother would ask her to strip in front of her.
Preparing herself for the pain, she rolled her shoulder a few times, valiantly keeping her face blank.
"See?" she smiled, "I'm completely fine. I think I just got sore from training."
For a moment, Victoria seemed to almost believe her. Then she lunged forward and dug her fingers right into the patched up bite wound. A scream ripped itself out of Mia's throat and she pulled away, looking up at her mother, eyes wide with betrayal.
