For years, I've hidden what I am-what I have to be. A werewolf in a world that hunts my kind. I've survived alone, the last of my pack after a massacre I can't forget. I thought I could keep hiding, living quietly as a teaching assistant, blending i...
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Everything hurts. My limbs are on fire, muscles aching from the strain of the last full moon. It's the same every time - a bitter reminder that I'm not quite human. As if my body refuses to let me forget. I lie there, staring at the ceiling, every part of me exhausted, the last thing I want to do is get up. The idea of dragging myself out of bed and facing another day at work feels impossible. But I have to. I need to.
As I slowly pull myself together, I hear Mom calling from downstairs. Her voice is a lifeline, cutting through the fog of my pain.
"Ayla, honey, you need to eat something before you go to work. I made you scrambled eggs and bacon," she says, her tone soft and endearing, as always.
It makes me smile. What would I do without her? She's all I have left. Ever since we lost Dad, we've only had each other. But I don't like to think about that - not now, not when everything still hurts so much.
"I can't eat anything," I mumble to myself, though when the smell of bacon and eggs reaches me, warm and familiar, I force myself to get up. I know it's for her. She worries too much. She always has.
By the time I shuffle into the kitchen, the usual worried look has already settled on her face. Her hair, streaked with grey, is in a messy bun, and she's hovering over the stove, looking at me as if I'm going to break.
"You're pushing yourself too hard, Ayla. I know things have been difficult, but I hope... I really hope things will settle down soon." She pats my head gently as I sit down at the table, a small, kind gesture that tugs at something deep inside me.
She's so human. So grounded, always looking for hope in the cracks. It's one of the many ways we're different. I look more like Dad. I always have - at least, that's what people say. But I wish I had more of him in me. His strength. His presence. Sometimes I feel like I'm barely hanging on.
When she leaves for work, the house falls silent. I wash the dishes, trying to ignore the dull ache in my bones, and then stand by the window, staring out at the downpour. The rain is relentless, heavy, drenching the town in grey. It pours from the sky like a curtain, shrouding the trees in mist. Ember's Hollow is a small, shadowy town, tucked far away from where I grew up. Yet, there's something about it that feels too familiar - so much like home, it almost makes me feel homesick.
But I can never go back. I can never forget what happened there. The memories alone are enough to suffocate me, to remind me that the past is a dangerous place, filled with shadows I'm not ready to face. There used to be three of us. Now, it's just me and Mom.
Leaving was the only option. Moving away, far from the threat and danger, was supposed to be a fresh start. A chance to rebuild. But some things, no matter how far you run, stay with you.
On that terrible day, the enemy pack not only killed my father, but everyone I'd ever known - my entire pack, torn apart in a frenzy of blood and teeth. I was the last one left. The last Alpha. But I'd never learned how to be an Alpha. I never had a chance to find my strength, to lead, or to protect. And now, all of that is gone. Just a memory buried under layers of fear and grief. It's safer that way, I tell myself. Safer to blend in with humans, to hide who I really am, to pretend I'm something ordinary. Even if pretending gets harder with every full moon when the urge to be free eats at me like a hungry wolf.
