The Harbinger || Book 1 || 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.
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-Oliver-
I couldn't go back to school after all. I tried, but the second I rested my hand on the front door, I started feeling sick again. For some reason, I wanted to go back to the wolf. The two times I had been close to it I felt stronger. Now I was weak again. Weak and sick.
I turned around and looked towards the forest, but I had the feeling the wolf wasn't there anymore. It had to be a hallucination, or an imaginary friend. It had been years since I last had one.
"For the last time! There is no Cedric here! Stop talking about him!"
I felt uneasy, when I heard my mother's words inside my head. Another kind of darkness surrounded my vision for a moment, and I could hardly see anything. Mom really didn't like it when I talked about my friends no one else could see. Maybe that was why she got so tired of me?
I started walking. I let my feet take me wherever they wanted. I wasn't surprised they took me home, to the orphanage. I wished a hot shower could make me feel better, so I walked straight in, up the stairs into our room, where I took off most of my clothes and stepped into the bathroom. No one spotted me on my way there, and I was glad about it. I knew I was in trouble, but right now I didn't want to face anyone. I just wanted to be alone.
Later, when I had spent long enough under the hot water, I turned it off and grabbed a towel. The only mirror in the room was covered in steam, but I tried to wipe it away, so I could see my sides. The bruises were still there, and I figured it would take a long time before they would heal.
I turned to face myself, and I hated what I saw. Red, swollen eyes and darkest circles around my eyes, surrounded by pale skin. Just a miserable little rat.
Half an hour later I lay down on my bed in fresh clothes. I probably needed food, but I was not hungry. I thought about my mom, the last words she spoke to me. I didn't even want you.
"I didn't even want you."
I didn't even want you. And she closed the door. I was nine years old. I had nowhere to go. I didn't know anyone. I banged the door for ages, but she only turned the TV louder. I gave up. Crying my eyes out, I turned to face the street that took me away from that place.
Hours later, when it was completely dark, I was tired and exhausted, hungry and scared.
"Hey, kid. What's your name?"
A car stopped next to me. A cop car. The man behind the wheel had a friendly smile on his face.
"Oliver."
"Okay, Oliver, are you lost?" I shook my head. "Where are your parents?" I shook my head. "Where do you live?" I shook my head.
I kept shaking my head. To this day, I never said anything.
