Unfortunate

02: Fire

BAILEY POV (12 yrs)

I was frozen. My feet wouldn't move. I was paralysed. What scared me most was not the rogues, it was the complete lack of control over my body. I felt a panic attack rising and a pressure was building up in my head. My body started shaking, I felt like I was going to puke. I stared as the flames swam around the house, the deadly tongues licking the sides, crawling up the wall.

Closer.

Closer.

The orange illuminated the air as the full moon casted a white, glow across the grass making the night seem almost... innocent. Wait! Full moon?

I stared at the massive round ball in the sky, captivated. I can't shift yet, but when I turn fifteen, I will become a true werewolf. A loud howl snapped me out of my daze and a sick sound of bones snapping forced me back to my door.

I stumbled out and ran as fast as I could down the hall to my brothers room. I pounded on the door, my eyes becoming hazy with tears and sweat. Moments later, the door swung open to reveal an angry yet disoriented Joel. "What?!" He barked.

"Ro- rogues. Now. Here at-at-at-attacking." I stuttered, trying to create a comprehendible sentence. A lump in my thought that refused to be swallowed making me choke on my words. Joel's eyes hardened. "That's not funny Bailey. Rogues aren't something to joke about." He scorned me.

"I'm not pranking you, they're outside, please help me!" I pleaded, the panic threatening to paralyze me again. Joel scoffed and walked back into his room. "Grow up, Bailey." He slammed his door, and then I knew he wasn't going to listen to my begs. I stumbled back from the door and ran to my dad's room. I haven't been in here for two years. I hesitated, my hand hovering over the door knob.

I summoned up as much courage as I could and pushed open the wide double doors to the master bedroom. The smell of strong liquor and an unfamiliar, sickly sweet smell invaded my nose. I stood for a moment, trying to find my bearings in the pitch black room, orienting my senses. The smell of smoke was beginning to overcome the strange smells in the room and I could barely make out my fathers shape, lying on his bed. He was sprawled out, unlike he had fallen asleep, more like he had passed out.

I didn't stop to ponder it and made my way to his bed. I shook him awake. Or, well, tried to. He wouldn't wake up and I shook him harder and harder, even going as far as to slap him in the face. A fraction of a second later, he grabbed my wrist, the force he used causing a sickening cracking sound to cut through the air. I screamed, but he was still unresponsive. His eyes shut, but his hand still on my wrist. I wrenched my arm from his grasp and took some steps back, cradling my arm which was now bent at an unnatural angle.

I wasn't watching were I was going and bumped into his bedside table, knocking over an ashtray and sending its contents sprawling across the floor. The white rolled up blunts carpeted the floor and I stared at them, confused. Before I could question it, the sound of glass smashing in forced my legs to run. I held my arm against my chest and ran - no, I flew, down the stairs. I saw as the rogues broke the glass on the front door and we're reaching for the inside handle. I erupted into a sprint for the back door and pushed it open, finding the backyard to be eerily deserted.

I wasted no time, only thinking of survival, and ran to the oak tree I had hidden behind only hours earlier. I reached up, trying to scale the tree, but my arm proved it to be too difficult and I gave up, sobbing, and slumped against the large trunk of the tree. The pain had begun to cloud my thoughts and I didn't move. I didn't move, even when I saw a tall, burly figure make it's way towards me. Not when that figure towered over me, and stared into my eyes with malicious intent. Not when it reached down, claws extended, aiming at my throat. Not when that figure was thrown off me. Not even as I watched one of the border guards ripping out the throat of my attacker, just as my attacker plunged his hand into my saviors chest. No, it was only when I saw the hole in my saviors chest did I think to move.

I stumbled over to the guard and recognized him as Leo, my father's ex beta. I placed my good hand over his would, trying to staunch the blood flow. I tried to tell him it would be alright, but I knew that his wound was beyond repair. Leo coughed up blood, and I knew that something had punctured his lungs. I cringed at the blood that now covered my face, but stayed by his side. His voice raspy and quiet barely reached my ears over the sound of the roaring flames behind me that engulfed the pack house, he reached up and grabbed onto my arm, right where my pack mark rested. "Run, little one."

And run I did, away from the heat of the fire that was destroying my home. Away from the dying body of my pack member. Away from the howling rogues. Away from my guilt at leaving them there. I ran through the trees and bushes, the branches scratching at my face. I ran and ran and ran.

I lost track of time, had I been running for minutes? Hours? Eventually, I ran and passed through an invisible barrier, the second I took that step, I became completely vulnerable. No longer was I within the confines of Midnight Howl Pack territory, but in what we like to call 'No Man's Land'. I felt weak and exposed, even in my long sleeve clothing, shivers chased each other down my spine. I slowed down to a wander and only stopped when I saw the sun rising over the treetops, and at some point in time, I collapsed, breathing heavily. Black spots invaded my vision and I was engulfed in a blanket of darkness.