"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
"Yeah well, that's what they always say."
He growled again.
"Stop doing that! What are you, a dog?"
Sixteen year old, almost seventeen, Heather Lyalls is doing leaps by day, but is hiding an abusive relationshi...
School is terrible and if I have to take one more final I'm going to kill myself with a pickle
Update: I'm done my finals and the semester, I have straight A's except for a D in math which is my first ever D so I'm freaking OUT
Please read the author's note in the next update! IT'S 2017 OMG
A Year Later...
Heather's POV
I wiggled my toes that were hanging off the bed. I looked to the clock that said in bright red numbers, 8:00 AM.
Today was Christmas. I was 18 now and Cole turned 20 about 2 weeks ago.
I lightly whistled. He seemed so old but in reality, that was only 2 years older than me.
I stood up and fixed my red buttoned dress and black tights in the mirror while dazing off, thinking of all that has happened since that Thanksgiving day a year and month ago.
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My parents signed me up for a counseling group which was surprisingly helpful and had made an even stronger person of who I am today. Mac even came a few times to let a few things off her chest, Cole usually accompanied me though.
The therapist was, yes, indeed a werewolf.
When I turned 18 I had a fun party which included sipping small sips from champagne bottles with Mac and Charlotte. Zack got me a huge unicorn emoji pillow and a taser.
He's a weird one.
Once the party was over, Cole and I returned to the pack house, which then he gave me his present, which sure was a uh, treat.
I joked the morning after, "Get em' while they are legal? The day of!"
He tackled and buried me under the blanket kissing my head repeatedly. "I love you Heather Lyalls so, so much."
Too bad I was sore that morning. I would have gone for round three.
I hopped off the bed and headed downstairs to the pack kitchen. People would be arriving soon to celebrate Christmas and Chanukah. There was already food lined up on the tables and countertops, all kinds of breakfast and cookie smells filled the air.
There was only three people in the kitchen, including two woman who loved to cook and my dad who was intriguingly watching them.
When he saw me his eyes lit up, "Heather! You'll never believed what Juana put in the french toast to make it taste so good."
I tried a bite and my eyes widened. "Oh my gosh, this taste like Christmas. This is amazing. What did you put in it?"
Juana laughed, "it's a secret."
I looked at my dad and he shrugged. "I'm zipping my mouth."
