Maybe

Since Seven

15: Since Seven 

Nathan's POV 

It seems that I don't know who I am anymore.

There are two sides of me, the wolf and the human. One doesn't listen to the other, but yet they both want the same thing. I can't control myself, though I didn't really have much of a controlled life in the first place. It's like a tug of war between human-me and wolf-me, and it's annoying.

I need a different word for annoying...

The human-me likes the wolf-me, well, more of what the wolf-me does. But it seems like the wolf can never be in control. I guess it's because the wolf in me has been trapped inside for so long.

I never planned for my life to be like this, for it to be confusing and difficult. Just a few days ago I was complaining about how hard homework was. But never did I think how hard this would be. I'm pulling myself apart, and it's... painful. It's not physically painful, but... emotionally. I want to live a normal teenager life, yet... I want to go out and run, and live. I want to run out into the forest--the woods, and know that I can go on forever, that my home would go on forever.

And that I would be safe.

To be honest, I've always been afraid. Ever since the incident in Canada, there was something inside of me that said "Don't trust them, they can hurt you." And I believed the voice in my head. Right now, I'm wondering if that voice is the wolf inside of me.

I used to love animals. In the woods in Canada, I used to have a dog. Did you know that? But she had to go away because of me. Her name was Locki.

It was just a normal snowy day, and I saw this gigantic dog. Sadly, it wasn't a dog--but I was seven. I didn't know what pain really was until it attacked me. I would always cry about not having something I wanted, but I would never cry because of pain. My dad always told me to be a man and not cry. But the stinging pain in my arm was just enough for me to do so.

And ironically, my dad did too. But his tears wasn't just for me, it was for my mother.

I don't trust people easily. And the reason why is very simple. The person you trust can leave and break your heart. 

My father took me to the hospital, and I could hear him yell at the doctors when I woke up. He came storming in the room, slamming the door. The sound was painful in my ears, but it wasn't as painful as when I saw my dad cry. He looked startled to see me awake, and I saw two things in his eyes: hope and sadness.

Dad came over to the scary white bed I was laying on, and hugged me. Giving me a back rub, he silently sobbed, but I didn't say anything.

"I'm fine, Dad," I croaked, but he only shook his head.

Pulling me away, Dad kept a firm grip on my shoulders. With his eyes red, he told me, "I'm sorry, Nathan. Your mother's gone up to sing with the angels."

My eyebrows furrowed. "Why?"

Despite the tears going down his face, he laughed. Though it wasn't a happy laugh; it was more of a fuck-my-life kind of laugh. "She ran a red light. So remember, Nathan, don't speed." Then Dad went to the bathroom and stayed in there for about twenty minutes.

All I did in those minutes was thought about his words. I knew that she was gone, I knew what my Dad meant. But the thing I didn't know what why. Why did my mom have to go? Why her? Of all people, why her? 

She died because she sped a red light, to get to me. I killed my own mom.

I remember going to see her for the very last time. I held her cold hands, but I wanted more. I wanted to see her green eyes again, I wanted to see her warm smile. I wanted to be in her comfortable arms. I needed her, but she just wasn't there.