Stigma

Prologue

"You can't stay here now," My father looked at me with his pleading eyes. "The police are after us. If you stay here, you'll have to go as well." 

I looked back at him, unforgiving. "How could you?" I asked quietly. "You killed my mother, because she had Coyote blood in her. You get into this huge mess with the other gangs, and drag me into it, and you expect me to find my own way out?" My father just shook his head. 

"Just go." He shoved a box of something into my hands. "Here, take this packet of drugs, and you won't starve or be broke." He insisted. When I sighed obnoxiously and turned my back on him, his tone became dangerous and threatening. 

"Remember, you'll always have that damned mark on your hand. You will never, ever, be able to fit in. Might as well accept this box of 'em, huh?" 

I grimaced and took the box from him. He smiled sweetly at me. Bipolar much, I thought. "Ok now, sweetie, you have to go. See you when I'm outta jail. Those metal bars really can't do their jobs properly, hmm?"

I shivered at his uncaring tone. "Dad, it's a high security prison. Even if you do get out, you have to be extra careful in the future."

He shrugged again, and laughed. "Oh, you can do anything if you try hard enough."

He seemed carefree and nonchalant, but I knew that he knew that he wouldn't be getting out this time. We wouldn't see each other again. 

"Bye, dad."

As I walked towards the sleek black car, he stopped me. "Wait, Y/N."

I slowly turned around.

His lips shifted into  a leering sneer. 

"No matter where you go, you will always be part of the Wolf clan."