The Melancholy Maniacs

Angie

As the eldest, my parents started with me first. One snowy winter night in December, when I was three years old, my mother took me outside, into the woods. There were so many trees, and so many wolves. She left me there, all alone, freezing.

The wolves were just as hungry as I was, and they couldn't wait to get their paws on me. I tried to run, I ran as fast as my small stubby legs could take me, and that's not far. Obviously, even in the snow, the wolves caught up to me. I hid inside a little doghouse, and they were too big to get to me.

They dug their paws into my legs, and I tried to shrink to as small as I could possibly get, but it just wasn't enough. They ripped some my skin off, and it started bleeding. After a while, they got bored and left to find more prey.

Since I was still only 3 years old, I didn't know how to nurse my leg, and I didn't know what to do in that little place. Somewhere, though, in the back of my mind, I thought I knew where the house was. Maybe, just maybe, if I wandered around, I would be able to find my parents and siblings.

So, I got out of the doghouse, and tried to find my way home in the freezing snow. I followed the lights, and saw familiar things that I recalled to be around my home.

Slowly, I found my way home, to my loving siblings, and my parents threw a fit.

"Why can't she just die?" they had said.

I tried to get out of their way in the house, to complain and eat as little as possible, but they still detested me and didn't want me around in the house. They screamed at me all the time, yelling at me for no reason whatsoever.

Then, one day, in January, they brought me to the same place, with the same wolves. They did this every month until my birthday in March, trying to make me die, and they didn't succeed. Instead, I made friends with the wolves, and they helped me from the cold and raised me to scream or yell at things I was scared of so they'd come help me.

I always found my way home, whether it was with the help of the wolves or without. My parents hated me for it, though. They just didn't love me at all. Although they tried to take care of Wesley, they neglected Maya and me.

From these experiences, I still scream at everything I'm scared of, all the time, and it's really high pitched. Plus,  I can't run anymore. All that running when I was 3 took a toll on me. In addition, I found it very difficult to deal with the cold, and I hated it. One would think that I'd be more resistant to it, that I would have stronger legs, but no. All this took a toll on my body from a young age, and I didn't like it. At all.

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Author's Note:
I literally wrote this on 17% battery at work. This is terrible I'm wasting all my battery lmao.. I hope this chapter was okay, I tried to make it longer than my other chapters since I haven't uploaded in a long time. Reuploading Wesley's chapter didn't count. Anyway, thanks for reading and don't forget to vote and comment :)