Oliver's life turns upside down when he learns that werewolves exist and one of them is his mate, but things get dangerous when he starts to learn more about himself.
*****
"It's a gift...
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-Oliver-
"Am I not enough?" I whispered into the darkness.
It was one of those nights when I could barely keep it together. There were five other boys in the room, sleeping soundly under their covers while I sat on my bed, curled up in my blanket and staring out the window. It was snowing. I didn't really like winter because it was always so cold in the house.
The group home. Orphanage. The place I had called my home for the past seven years.
Gecko muttered something in his sleep right above my head, and the bed squeaked when he shifted around. His real name wasn't Gecko, we just called him that. That seven-year-old boy was like a little brother to me, they all were, but sometimes I wished I had a real family.
As soon as that thought escaped my mind, my entire body trembled. I wiped away my lonely tears. Sometimes I wished I could be like Gecko. He didn't remember his family. He didn't remember why he was given away, or if his family was even alive anymore. I could still see the uncaring stare of my mother when she told me to get out of her house.
"I didn't even want you," she spoke. Her last words to me. She didn't yell, she didn't throw things, and she wasn't drunk or high on drugs that day either. She was just utterly fed up with me, closing the door quietly like I was just an inconvenient guest.
Ever since that day, those words had echoed in my mind every single night. I had relived my childhood again and again, trying to understand what I did wrong. Why did my own mother abandon me like that? Like I was just a sock without a pair, I'd been useless to her.
I didn't even know my father. Maybe that was for the best. I didn't know if I had a family somewhere. I didn't know if they knew I existed. I had spent so many nights hoping that maybe someone would come to take me away, an aunt or an uncle or a grandmother or at least a long lost third cousin. Someone. Anyone.
But no... No one came. Seven years passed, and no one came.
There once was a time when I kept telling myself that everything was all right. I would get adopted. I would get a new family who would care for me and give me a real home. I was looking forward to it. I kept a smile on my face because I knew there would be a family for me somewhere.
But no... No one wanted me. Seven years passed, and no one wanted me.
"I'm not enough," I answered to myself in a whisper, burying my face on my knees, trying to stay silent so I wouldn't wake up the others.
*****
"Oliver! Oliver! You're going to be late!"
I turned my back on the mirror, hating how I looked. I had red, puffy eyes from spending half the night crying, and it didn't help that I looked like a mouse. My ears were sticking out, I had braces because my front teeth were sticking out – not that much anymore, thankfully – my short, grayish-brown hair was sticking out in weird places, and to make things worse, I had a narrow, pointy nose. But the worst part was that I was barely five feet and three inches tall, making me the shortest boy in my class. Some of the girls were taller than me, and for some reason, that was funny to others.
