You're a Werewolf

Revelation

Why can't I sleep?

I've been tossing and turning all night ever since I decided to go to sleep. I even lit a lavender-scented candle for 10 minutes to help me relax. I tried listening to soft music and even ASMR. I thought ASMRs would work. But seems like the spirit of drowsiness is not ready to bless me yet. None of the different sleep-inducing methods worked at all.

Instead, when I close my eyes, the conversation with Luna Cassie replays in my head over and over again.

She told me I looked like my mother.

The image of my mother in my head is the one that I grew up with ever since I can remember—dirty blonde hair, beautiful green eyes, full pink lips, and freckled cheeks.

How can I ever look like her?

My hair is the lightest shade of blonde. My eyes are brown. My lips aren't even the same shape though they are of similar color. I don't resemble her at all.

Except... maybe I wasn't...

I sit up, pushing my fluffy pink blanket and the negative thoughts away. If it so happens that what I'm thinking is right, then I don't know what I would do at all. I grew up in a loving and caring environment. Yes, I may have been too sheltered by them but I thought they were just being overprotective of me. 

I glance at the clock only to see that it's 2:59 AM. I huff and stand up, stretching my arms and body. 

Maybe I need a glass of warm milk or just plain water if I don't want to exert effort.

Before I get out of the door, the blue yearbook from two decades and a half ago inside my open bag catches my eye. Shrugging, I grab the yearbook before going downstairs.

If mom and dad are still awake, I will go and ask them immediately. I want them to be open to me about the truth. I do not want to keep speculating about things that keep me up late at night. I want to do that but...

The only problem is me.

I keep telling myself I want to know the truth, but part of me does not want to.

When I reach the kitchen, I plug in the electric water heater and grab a mug with a smiley face on it. I place the yearbook on the kitchen island before leaning on it. That's when my sights land on the wine bottle our mothers were drinking earlier. It has about a quarter of it left.  

Should I drink it? 

The angel in me says I shouldn't, but the devil inside me dictates I should. 

I avert my gaze from the wine to the milk powder dispenser. I must not give in to the temptation presented before me just because I'm a bit angry. Or I could use the mug to hide the fact that it's wine. If I'm going to find out the truth, I need to be confident enough to stop myself from chickening out

Okay, let's not be rash about this, Nikki. They can easily smell the wine. 

I take a coffee spoon and stir the water and powdered milk together, the warmth of the ceramic mug lightly comforting my aching heart. I sit on the island chair before opening the yearbook and examining the pictures page-by-page. Mom was definitely in a lot of them, but so was that other person who looked so much like me. 

Life used to be normal. When did it get this messy?

I bring the mug closer to my lips, just staring at the people in the yearbooks. I wince and cough after the hot milk meets my tongue. That definitely burnt some of my taste buds.

"Nikki?" Chris calls.

"Yeah?" I respond, shifting to the next page before turning my head towards him.