Song: Be Somebody by Thousand Foot Krutch
*
A/N: This chapter is of Draven as a child. This is his story, so it's in the past! He is twelve years old in this chapter.
*
*
"Monsters aren't born, they are made."
* * * *
I'm not like the other kids.
I can feel it my veins.
I'm different.
The grass between my fingers shrivels and dies by my touch, living proof that I am different. It's a painful reminder that I'm a monster, according to those around me.
I can't fit in.
I'm not normal.
The plants I touch with my hands die, and nobody knows why.
And worst of all, I don't know how to control it.
As I sit in the long grass, careful not to touch the plants with my hands, I peer out through the bushes, completely hidden and out of sight. The other kids my age are playing basketball, and I observe their emotions and interactions with each other.
I've watched the kids from the shadows for nearly as long as I can remember.
The other kids laugh and play all day long in the warm summer evenings. They go black berry picking amidst the lush green forests. They go hunting in the dry, golden grass of the meadows for rabbits. They go fishing in the crystal clear rivers, and swimming in the ponds the rivers provide.
And where was I all along?
Hidden in the shadows, longing to join them.
Laughter is a common sound heard among the forest where my pack resides. After all, this serene place known as my home is a kid's heaven, really.
But too bad I can't enjoy any of those things.
Why?
Because all my life I've been told that I'm too powerful. I'm too dangerous. Parents fear that I will lash out suddenly and accidentally inflict pain upon the innocent.
Ever since I had accidentally injured a boy when I was eight years old, I haven't been allowed to be around kids since. We were playing tag in the meadows, when the boy suddenly jumped out at me from the bushes, startling me.
In reaction, I struck the boy with my fist.
I didn't even hit him that hard, or so I thought. But his body went flying backwards, where he landed on the ground, unconscious with a bloody nose.
I was so confused....I was only a scrawny eight year old....I hadn't hit him hard, I couldn't have. I was nothing more than a mere weak child. My thoughts raged with confusion at the strong emotions I was feeling.
It seems as if all my emotions are ten times stronger than what the average werewolf feels. Experiencing very strong emotions certainly didn't help the situation, and soon I was dragged off by three adult werewolves, where I was cuffed in silver and tied to a tree.
The parents of the child I had wounded came up to me and slapped me across the face, yelling at me, saying how dare I hurt their son.
But I didn't mean too.
It was an accident.
I was left there, tied to the tree all night, with nothing but my tears to make me feel better.
YOU ARE READING
What Lurks in His Eyes
VlkodlaciDeath. What comes to mind when you hear that word? Darkness, uncertainty, or perhaps maybe a scary being clothed in the night comes to mind. But all of those ideas are wrong, because Death is nothing more than a werewolf who's been neglected and sha...