I want to narrate how I’ve grown and tell him I love him, too. I want to give him a hug and tell him the story of my life.
I want to apologize, but where can I find him? Should I go back to my grandfather’s pack and leave my perfect life behind and face my step-brothers? Besides, I’m strong now and no longer vulnerable or a crybaby, waiting for a hero to come save her.
I glanced at the mirror again and saw red tears streaming down my cheeks, felt a sharp tear at my chest. I cried out at the pain and fell from my stool.
I rolled on the floor, crying out in my unbearable agony. I shrieked and roared in wolf’s speech.
I shapeshifted from my human form to my wolf’s form as I rolled on the floor. My wolf form and my human form fighting each other inside me felt like I was being burned alive.
I held my burning neck with both hands. A raw, searing pain tore through me, like claws ripping from the inside. Each heartbeat pounded against it, pushing the ache deeper, hotter. My breath hitched, turning to ragged gasps as muscles clenched around the hurt, helpless to ease it.
I coughed out an enormous pile of blood on the floor.
“Wendy! Wendy! Wendy.” The door burst open. Courtney, Larcade and Chelsea rushed in and the horrific looks on their pale faces were enough to make them pass out.
Oh, did I forget to mention Chelsea, too? She is my close friend. We don’t talk that much, but when we see each other, we are cool. She is an introvert and loves her space and values herself more.
She has a bold appearance that really stands out. She often changes her style, but what stays constant is her cool, effortless vibe.
Her hair is usually a statement-whether it’s a bright color like neon green or something more toned down, it always adds to her edgy look.
Her blue eyes are striking, with a deep, soulful quality, and her expressions are often calm and thoughtful, giving her an air of mystery.
She has soft features, like her full lips and round face, but pairs them with oversized, baggy clothes.
She loves to dress like a tomboy, baggy pants and white shirts, and packs her hair in a ponytail.
She’s pretty and makes her own rules and owns it. There’s something really powerful in the way she carries herself, like she’s fully comfortable being different.
She lives across from my house.
“WENDY.” Chelsea panicked and rushed to me and carried me in her arms.
“Larcade, bring some water and towels downstairs.”
“On it.” He nodded and rushed out of the room.
“What happened here?” Chelsea questioned and stared at my blood on the floor she stepped on.
“Are you okay, Wendy? What happened? Did you take wolfsbane or something? Why are you like this?” Courtney panicked and held my hand. “Please, say something.” She yelled.
. My tears fell off my eyes and kept looking at them with these awful emotions welling inside me. “I want to see Sihwa. This pain is too much.” I muttered tearfully and burst into tears.
What was I saying? Am I out of my mind?
“I can’t bear it anymore.” I panted. “It’s killing me. I want to meet them-I want-to see them. I want my mates. I want Sihwa. Please.” I gasped and felt a tremendous pain in my throat.
“Who is Sihwa?” Chelsea questioned and looked over at Courtney.
“I don’t know what she is talking about.” Courtney shook her head and Chelsea turned to me. “Wendy.”
“Please…” I sobbed. “I want to…see…them.” My eyes went blurry, and I passed on my Chelsea’s arms.
I don’t know what happened after that, but since I left, I haven’t had peace since I abandoned them. I was happy but not comfortable.
I keep having dreams. And I would see Sihwa on occasions and it is always the same scene.
How many times have I met Sihwa? Come to think of it, did I truly know him? Have we met before?
The way he stares at me is loving and sometimes frightening. Why does it look like he knows me?
Why does it feel like our encounter is deeper than it looks?
“Sihwa.” I stood before him with tears rushing down my left eye. And a huge bandage on my right eye. My bruised arms and feet got bandaged.
I wore a yellow gown with ribbons on each side. I ran without slippers to get close to the staircase and couldn’t stop sobbing. My knees grow weak as I fell on the floor. My hands were on the floor as I cried bitterly and shouted his name to hear me out.
“SIHWA.” I cried out, and he popped his head up from the staircase he was lying on, facing the sky.
He sat down on one staircase with his left leg crossed over the other. He wore a long sleeve black turtleneck and blue pants. His white hair scattered on his face and his blue eyes shone as he raised his head and looked at me.
“What is the matter?” His calm voice comforted me. “Why are you a mess, Wendy?” His expression seemed taken back a little.
“Some kids bullied me and called my father a homophobic son of a bitch.” I yelled and faced him from above. “What does that even mean?”
I think I have seen this scene before. Some kids were bullying me and I didn’t want to tell my parents for fear of the unknown. The only person I could run to was Sihwa.
Since he was the only one who would understand what I was going through without getting a beating from my mother and my father was always absent from home.
It was then I should have known why I always got bullied, but I was too young to understand the world I was in. To know the meaning of the word, ‘Homophobic’
To know what was happening around me. I didn’t know the reason for the bullying was because my father was gay.
As I recall, I was eight years old in my yellow gown.
How did I meet Sihwa again? Why did I forget about all of this? Why am I connected to Sihwa in a way?
He came to me in a flash. Like a breeze blowing through my hair as he leaned on my forehead.
The tears from my eyes dripped on my shoulders.
“What happened to your right eye? Why is it bandaged?”
I cried even more. “The nurse said I wouldn’t see with my right eye anymore.” I explained.
His eyes grew in shock for a second.
“What will I tell my mom and dad?” I broke into tears and couldn’t stop crying my eyes out. ‘She said my right eye has gone blind.’