Spitfire

Chapter 3

With bare feet I ran down the cemented path. I kept my head down and the tears in. The pain of my unprotected soles connecting with the graveled ground was surprisingly refreshing. It was just proof that the dark feeling I was experiencing could have been worse.

My wolf let out a loud wine.

Why can’t I just have a basic life? Why can’t my family be normal? I asked the animal inside me. What have I done to deserve this?

My heart raced painful thumps deep within my chest.

He’s found his mate; his other half. We should be happy. My wolf answered, cautiously pacing back and forth at the far end of my mind.

I forced the voice even farther back. I didn’t want to hear any other opinions; not even my own spirits.

No one knew how I felt.

Especially Rowan.

I wasn’t mad that he told Rachel. I was actually happy because now I could be myself around her without constantly worrying about spilling ‘the secret’.

I was alone again, and that devastated me.

I was alone when I was born. I was the only female shifter in recorded history.

I was alone when my parents rejected me for being different. I wasn’t a warrior, and that was disgraceful to them.

And now I’m alone because I lost my only caring family and friend.

He never realized.

No one knew how it tortured me; weaving itself in-between every thought and action. Being myself never let me forget that I was the only reason my life sucked.

It was a continuing cycle that I couldn’t seem to break. I was drowning in it.

Everybody leaves at some point. I thought bitterly. No one cares enough to stay.

I closed my eyes for a split second and wiped my mind clean of any thoughts or feelings. I knew were this self-loathing would take me, and I refused to go back into that state of mind.

I put all my focus into reaching my destination as soon as possible.

The church was located in the deep undergrowth of the woods. It was a few miles from the farthest part of the park’s trails and was untouched by humans.

It was basically the only place I felt safe.

As I continued to run, I began to notice the familiar markings that led to the small building.

My feet pause right as I entered the grounds.

It was beautiful; its gothic-like structures reminded me of Notre Dame in the way that the architecture seemed to be from a different time. The now mossy brick was laid into an arch at the entranceway. Rowan told me that this used to be a Lutheran church, and it was built by a small group of people who didn’t want to conform to strict Christianity.

I wasn’t sure if I was Christian or Lutheran or if I even had a religion; my parents had never cared to tell me.

The only thing I knew was that I love this place.

I felt like I could be myself without anyone trying to kill me, use me to ensure further sharer bloodlines, or judge me for being different.

I realized that I didn’t only love this place, I needed this place.

Nowhere else could I just shift into my other form.

I couldn’t cry at home. That’s just a part of me no one could see. I wouldn’t allow myself to be weak again.