Mr. Rouge or Mr. Right?

Bloody Tales

Flash Back

Mercy

My eleven year old self sits outside by my favorite tree listening to my brother Rhyker scream at our parents. This is probably the hundredth time already. Just because he special and bullied he thinks that wolves are horrendous. 

Soon I hear a door slam shut. I slid behind the tree so no one would be able to see me. I carefully peaked my head around spotting my brother walking towards the shed. I sneakily crawled over to the rundown shed. Once I reached the shed I go over to the little crack in the door.

I hear clanking around like he is looking for something. Suddenly I hear a crack of thunder revealing it is about to storm heavily. 

I tried to see what he was doing but all I got was a smell of old copper and a grunt. Lightning flashes in my face, in that time I look to my big brother, blood dripping down his face, while two severed ears and a tail lay hard on the ground, blood becoming a puddle that runs towards the crack in the door.

I get up from where I was crouched down. I sprint to the house in a blind panic. Rushing through the house to my parents room, I burst in franticly.

"Mommy!! Daddy!! Rhyky did something bad!!" I jump on their bed shaking them till they sat up with a start.

"What do you mean Rhyker did something bad?" Daddy asked confused. Seriously dude.

"He cut off his wolf ears and tail!" My mom pulls me tight against her while my daddy leaves to see what I am talking about. After what feels like eternities, my dad comes in holding what was left of the wolf my brother used to be.......

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Present Time Mercy's

Waking up in a cold sweat, I bolted up out of bed in such a rush, I tangled myself into the sheets and fell with a thud onto the cold ass wood floor. I yelped from the cold, then just laid there in my shame of falling off the bed. AGAIN. I decided to get my ass up, and what better to do at 4 in the morning then go bother my pack mates?

 So, do I play the bugle again or do I set the kitchen on fire by attempting to cook. Ah, bugle seems more entertaining. I threw on a pair of sweats and strut to my closet to grab my bugle, which was hidden under the floorboards, and sashayed out the door.

I skipped to the middle of the loft area in between the two bedroom halls. I smirked evilly as I took the bugle from the case and raised it to my eager lips. I drew in a deep breath, getting enough air to show the peeps that I'm awesome, and blew so hard while pushing random keys. It was so loud I loved it.

"What the bloody cockadoodle doo!" I heard our beloved Alpha shit his pants. There was thudding and I kept blowing as hard as I could. All of the sudden, I lost the air from my lungs when something, I mean, when "someone" hard rammed into my side, and my bugle went flying.

"Shut the FUNK up!! It is 4 in the funking morning you funking funker funk!!" I could recognize that 'funking' anywhere. Arwin. I burst out into the biggest fit of giggles I have ever had.

"Mercy Ann Thompson! You get over here this instant!"

Oopsies.

"Hiiiiiiiii Daddy!!!"

"Don't 'Hiiiiii Daddy' me. You do realize you woke up everyone at 4 in the morning Mercy?"

"I was protecting you!"

"From what?!"