Midnight Scarlet » Stilinski

One

                                                             Chapter One

 

I wake with a start, my breathing uneven and my heartbeat fast. I take deep breaths to calm myself, though it doesn’t work. My mind is awake, even if it is two in the morning. I wish I could sleep for more than a few hours at a time.

            Sighing, I slide out from underneath the covers and put my leather boots on, trying to keep as quiet as possible. I fly down the stairs― fast enough so that they can’t creak under my weight. In this house, everyone could wake up if you dropped a needle on the floor. And I don’t want them to wake up.

            I’m halfway out the front door when I notice that I’m only wearing a long, thin shirt that goes to my mid-thigh. But I realize that I don’t care because no one’s going to see me. It’s two in the morning, for crying out loud.

            I shut the door behind me and start to jog through the woods. Our house is set right into the middle of the woods, far away from civilization. Of course, we got here only a few weeks ago, and this is the first time that I’ve been out of the house. No one wants me to explore the woods or even go into town, though I’m a naturally curious person.

            I’m a werewolf― a bloodthirsty monster that changes forms from human to animal on the night of the full moon.

            I don’t think that that’s the reason that I’m protected at all times, though. I’m an alpha― the leader and controller of a pack of werewolves. Of course, we’re all alphas that don’t have a pack anymore, so we all just combined. But the lead alpha, Roxanne, always tells me that I am special and that I need protection. So that means that I’m almost always under twenty-four hour guard, but I guess that someone messed up tonight. It’s not like I’m complaining or anything, but someone’s in trouble when they wake up and figure out that I’m gone.

            I’m not an alpha like any other. Even though I’m only fifteen, I’m the only remaining descendent of the very first werewolf. That means that I have too much power for me to ever want, and technically, I control all werewolves. A sort of queen or something, I was told.

            I don’t want the power. I don’t even want to be part of the pack. I don’t want to be a werewolf.

            Most people look at it as a gift― heightened senses, speed, and abilities. I look at it like it actually is: a curse that sends someone on a downward spiral. I wish more than anything to be normal.

            I continue to run through the woods, the cool and crisp February night air making me run faster. The ground pounds underneath my boots, matching in time to the pace of my heartbeat. I smile and look up at moon, which isn’t quite full yet, but it’s going to be soon. I shouldn’t be nervous about the full moon― I’ve been through a million of them, being chained to the wall in the basement or locked inside a metal trunk― but for some reason, I am. Like maybe something will be different about this moon.

            I shake my head and keep going, determined to get as far away from the house as possible. Even if I know that I don’t have a choice in the matter, I don’t want to go back to the house. I don’t have any freedom there. I’m not allowed to leave the house, I’m already engaged to another alpha my age, and I don’t get a say in anything. I’m not allowed to love.

            Playing my acoustic guitar and writing poetry are my only points of refuge. I hate this feeling of being trapped. Most days, I wish that I could turn into a bird instead of a wolf so that I could leave forever.