Wolf Queen (The Fate of Berrilium)

Chapter 1-Rejection

Chapter 1 Rejection

I fly up, sweat drenching my large white t-shirt. I could still feel the burning sting of tears in my eyes. My panting breath, loud and short. I try hard to slow down my breathing. I can't remember the dream, but I know, by my body's reaction that it was the same one I had the previous night. It was the dream I have almost every night. I inhale and exhale slowly, my breath along with my heart rate finally slowing. My room laid in taunting darkness, the sun not yet in the sky. With my enhanced senses, I can still make out my room's items regardless of the lack of light. The attic is always dark it would seem. I sigh, my body tired from a restless sleep.

I turn my head towards my rusting alarm clock. The red lighting of the numbers is the only source of light. 4:29. Huh, it seems that I woke up just on time. The alarm rang short as the number switch to 4:30, my hand already slapping at the button to end the noise. I blow away a strand of dark brown hair that falls in front of my face and throw the thin covers away from my body. I throw my legs over the side of the bed, my toes immediately curling at the feel of the cold wooden floors. The floor makes a creaking sound as I stand. The old attic wasn't very special. It fit big enough for one person, but it's still a bit cramped. I had long gotten used to it. I rub at my face and stretch my arms out, hearing my bones make a sickening popping sound.

Lazily I make my way over to my small bathroom, a feature added just for me. I am forever grateful for it but the reasoning behind the addition is hurtful. The others refused to have me share one of theirs, even the main guest bathrooms were off limits to me. No one wants to share a bathroom with filth. A lower. A freak. A murderer. I step through the threshold of my bathroom, my hand immediately flipping on the light switch. It is simply too dark in this tiny bathroom, much darker than my bedroom. Light attacks my sensitive eyes. I quickly do my business, flushing the toilet after. I move to the sink, washing my hands, and then brushing my teeth. I strip away the sweat filled clothing, wrinkling my nose as I caught a whiff of just how much I did sweat. As I'm fully naked my eyes rove over the mirror. It's just big enough to show my upper stomach.

I stare at myself, my head tilting to the side-a morning routine it would seem. My brown eyes dull and lifeless match almost perfectly with the color of my long dark brown hair. I pull my waist length hair over my left shoulder, my hand threading through it gently. My mother had often done that. As I gently comb through my thick locks, I realize that I'm in need of a cut. I'll do it when I return home from school today. That is if I get any time to myself to do so. My breasts sat perky, average in size, a solid B cup. I think that's normal for a 16-year-old girl. I continue my perusal. I could see the thickness of my upper stomach, the chubbiness of my arms. Even with my very special genes, my body hardly burns any fat. Lack of exercise I guess. I swallow thickly as my eyes caught what sat on my top right shoulder. Deep scars starting from my upper shoulder ran across my back, only stopping above my bottom. They weren't fully visible, but the memory of how I got them made my skin itch and ache. The bit I could see made my heart clench in grief. Unforgiving memories attack my mind. I look away, ignoring the thickness in my throat. I cross the short distance to my shower, my body moving almost mechanically. Turning the knobs of the shower, water starts drizzling down. I hop in, making sure I keep it short. I've been wasting time with my unnecessary examination. A heinous task I unfortunately take part in every day. There has always been some sick fascination in watching my flaw filled body. Something dark inside me relished in knowing that my scars on the outside ran just as deep as the ones on the inside.

Finishing quickly, I exit the bathroom, a ratty towel wrapped around my body. Ignoring the darkness of my bedroom, I turn towards my dresser. I grab a plain white t-shirt, and black jeans, my usual everyday outfit. I throw the items onto my bed and begin my search for underwear. Once I have them in hand, I place them on my body. I glance quickly at the clock. I have about 12 more minutes to get dressed and be downstairs. Hurriedly, I tug up my worn jeans, and stuff my arms through my shirt. In the left corner of the tiny room, my black sneakers sat proudly at the side of a small table. Making my way over to the pair, my eyes glance at the items on the tiny table. Smiling at me were the faces of a happy family. The mom stood with her eyes closed, mid laugh. Her lush brown hair whipping around her face. The dad smiles gently and lovingly at the woman wrapped in his arms, his eyes fixated on his wife. Sitting at their feet sat siblings. The young boy, small at only 8years, frowns as the giggling 6-year-old pokes at his nose. Her face is filled with happiness and laughter. The girl that I couldn't ever remember being. Sadness envelopes my heart as I stare at the family's perfection. My eyes move over to the frame standing next to the first. The little girl is in this one too. Her hair held tight in long pigtails -aged only by a year. She stands smiling largely as a dark-haired boy-not that much older than she, kisses her cheek. My cheeks warm and tingle as I stare. It seems that this is another torture I withstand needlessly every day.