You're Not My Mate!

Prologue

Prologue:

 

I angled the sharpest point of the glass on my wrist. Glass surrounded me as I stared at my reflection in the broken mirror. Some of the glass was piercing my arms, and some on my face, but I didn’t care.

I only found anger and hatred in my emotions. Hatred for who I am.

My own mother called me gothic, for crying out loud! Silent tears streamed down the sides of my pale cheeks. My black hair stuck to my tear-stained face.

I hated myself for crying. I was gripping the shard of glass too tight. I felt a small prick in my right hand and I bit my lip as I watched a small dribble of blood appear.

I liked it. I wanted to get what I deserved. Pain. Blood. Pity.

I ignored the small pain in my hand and I pressed the glass into my forearm. With quick movements, I slashed my wrist. A small line of blood appeared and I winced at the pain.

I felt the sadness envelope me. This is what I get. This is what I deserve.

I sniffed away any other tears and hurriedly shoved up the sleeve of my arm farther. Before I could regret anything, I brought down the glass again.

A sharper pain appeared on my forearm. This cut was incredibly harsher than the first one.

It somehow fed my desire to hurt myself. I was almost to the point of breaking down in helpless tears, but I held myself back. I was tempted to put the glass down and run away, but I stood in my place.

Remember what she told you.

Anger flamed through me quickly. I felt so weak and desirable. I hated it. Every word she said to me was very true. She was right about everything, as always. She forced me to be like this.

I bet she doesn’t want you alive anymore.

I sucked in a sharp breath at that thought. It was true.

My mother hated me. She wanted me dead, just like with my sister. I didn’t want her to get what she wanted, but I pressed the glass against my skin. The sharp point pinched the skin there and I felt a twinge of pain.

Yet, I didn’t entirely feel it.

I only noticed it. It didn’t acknowledge it. I dragged the shard down my forearm once again as I kept rememorizing what she said to me. Nobody wanted me here.

I felt rejected; disliked. I didn’t like it one bit, but I knew I deserved it completely. Why did I deserve it? Because I was a burden to my family. I was a mess that nobody wanted to deal with.

I suddenly slammed the glass into the sink and attempted to rub off the blood on my arm. I wiped my sleeve across the cuts, sobbing silently when they stung my arm.

I was done refusing my life. I was going to deal with it. I was going to try to deal with this mess that I’ve created.

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Soooo, did you like it?

 

Just making something clear-- This is a werewolf story! I'm trying to make it different from other werewolf books you may have read.

This book may contain some adult material. I haven't written it through, yet, but I will not write a warning at the beginning of the chapter since I think that gives away what's going to happen with the story.

You may read at your own risk. If anything is offensive to you, then don't read it!

So, this chapter may be depressing, but I want to establish that the main character is depressed.

Before I keep rambling on and on, I'm going to stop here! Keep reading, vote, and COMMENT YOUR IDEAS!