\\ Amazing trailer by @loyallyric //
One secret, one curse, is enough to change everything. Everything she knew, everything she thought she understood, became nothing, twisting into an ultimate heap of confusion. He is after her, the one that has...
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The wind weaves it's way through my hair, making it fly over my face, getting tangled in my lashes. I don't bother to brush it away, I just let it fly freely, watching as the strands are being tugged one by one. My legs are planted firmly on the ground, swaying my body on the swing.
No one's around, for it is early in the afternoon, everyone's either at work or school, living their lives like I wish I could. I stare blankly out in front of me, my eyes burning from not blinking. I hear the snapping of twigs and jump slightly from being startled by it.
Seconds later, the swing beside me is taken by someone, but once again I don't bother looking, but I have a feeling I already know who it is.
"Go...I want to be alone," I say, not leaving any room for negotiation, but he finds room to.
"Why? I'm here giving you company and that's what you say?" He jokingly teases, but I don't find it funny, nor do I know why all the sudden he's acting different, not like the normal person I know and hate.
"You're the last person on my list that I want to give me company, Vincent," I snap, still not sparing him a glance.
I hear him let out a small sigh of frustration, and from the corner of my eye, I see him running a hand through his dirty blonde locks.
"Why do you hate me so much?" I'm taken back by his question, not for the fact that it was out of the blue, but for the fact that he already knows why; with that, I speak my thoughts.
"You know why, Alakade. You don't need to ask," I convey without any emotion, not wanting to be reminded of that one event that ruined Rey's life.
He stays silent, not making a sound as he lets my words linger within the cold November air.
"Can I ask you something?" I question, completely unexpected, even for me. This time, I face him. He raises his hanging head and stares at me with his crystal like blue eyes.
"Sure," is his simple answer.
"What are you?"
"...A monster," he mutters, and I'm barely able to hear it, but I manage.
"I don't mean that I mean what are you? Usually, wolves travel in packs," I don't finish my sentence, for I'm at a loss of words.
"I'm what you call a rogue. A wolf that breaks away from the pack, for numerous reasons."
I nod, letting his words sink in. The area is silent, the only sound is made by the tree branches stretching against each other, being rustled by the strong headwinds.
"What is he?" I ask, not giving specific details.
"A skin-walker," he bluntly answers my vague question.
Just as I'm about to ask what he means by "skin-walker", he answers it, as if he can read my mind clearly. Is that a power that Werewolves have, or am I just delusional?
"It's a legend from the Navajo tribes, it speaks of wicked people that wear animal skins, symbolizing their power. They have the power to shapeshift into any living thing they want, animal or human," he explains.
"Like, other people?"
He nods, "yes...why do you ask?"
I don't immediately answer his question, but instead, contemplate inside my mind whether or not to tell him what happened, but I do anyway.
"Sunday night, I was at the library and...someone with the exact same dark, evergreen eyes came to me, telling me to leave. But then...he came outside and, said: "he can't stop me now". He attacked me and-"
"And that's how you got that," he motions a hand toward my cheek, breaking through my words.
I nod at his claim, "but, I don't understand one thing, he had fangs, doesn't that make him a vampire?"
"He's undead, and yes in a way, it sort of does make him one, but it doesn't. It's kind of hard to explain," he responds, letting out a breath, the air visible as it floats upwards, later dissolving.
"He steals the blood from people to keep his youth, that's why he looks how he does. That's why he's able to do the things he does. In reality, he's close to being eighty, though he looks eighteen."
I absorb the newly learned instruction, yet it still feels fake. It all feels like a joke, but there are too many facts for it to be fake. There are too many elements to be explained for it not to be true.
"So, you're friends with a daymare skin-walker," I retort.
"Yep."
I shake my head, "insane".
"But it's austere that he doesn't know about this little discussion we had, and I'm serious," he deadpans, and I choose not to question the matter any further.
The more that I get pulled into this, the more I regret it.
