"Did you miss me?"
He glares, an expression so fierce I shrink away.
"I missed you as much as I would miss a lung, I could hardly even breathe without you."
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Opal has been through a lot in her life, many things t...
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Keifer POV
For a long time, I've had an untamed rage inside of me. There was never an explanation, never a reason for my rotten temper that waged war on my insides. And because no one else had a problem with anger issues, or with breaking the rules, I've always felt like a freak. I never belonged.
It's something that isn't easily explained. No one really understands it when I try to tell them exactly what I'm feeling. I instinctively know when it's about to show itself. It's as if there's a hand of black claws crawling up my neck. A deadly darkness born from my own brain. It could be triggered by something, or it could happen randomly.
I could be laying under a tree as peaceful as could be, and suddenly I need to punch something.
When a fit of rage takes a hold of me, there's only so much that I can do to stop it. Sometimes, I can't even attempt to tamper it back. Like now.
I see the young lycan before me as we circle each other slowly, there are hoots and hollers of excitement around us. It makes me feel like an animal in a zoo. Watched, observed, only a source of entertainment.
Spars like these happen every week. It's so everyday, so normal. Just another form of training to mold us into soldiers.
But, something inside of me turns over. The claws of fierce anger start their way up my back and into my head. My heart thumps wildly in my chest. My lips pinch. My blood pours through each vein like a race against time.
Heat builds in my chest until it becomes unbearable.
The brave kid comes at me, and something snaps. Physically.
A shout of pain rings out in the foggy morning. Confusion blossoms. It's followed by a deafening silence that hangs heavy in the air, so think that I'm suffocating on it. I try desperately to breathe, my breath fanning in and out of my lungs in rugged pants.
"He broke my bone! Shit, my collarbone." The kid rocks on the ground, the melted snow turned to mud slicking his back. "You monster!" He accuses.
I don't deny it. I agree with him wholeheartedly. I don't even remember it, everything is so blurry, but I don't question that it was me that did it.
I don't want to look up at the faces surrounding me. I'm too afraid of what I'll see there. The same fear. The same accusatory stares. Hatred. Judement. Disgust.
When I do finally lift my head from the injured pup to the people who share this hell with me, I don't see those things. I see respect. I see amazement. Some are even smiling. They're quiet, and the only sound I hear is the soft sobbing of the boy who I maimed.
I stare down at my open hands that tremble slightly. I don't even remember touching him. I hardly feel like myself.
