One year later

I never slept at night, so I always had bags under my eyes. It wasn’t that I had insomnia, I was just terrified to fall asleep at night. The nightmares would be too much, remembering all the blood and suffering I saw with the werewolf pack.

I sat in my rocking chair in my very small room. I could hear my younger sister and brother getting up and dressed for school. I didn’t go to school, I refused to go. I got anxiety attacks when I went. So I homeschooled when I wasn’t too tired from staring at the window late at night.

I always looked at the bright moon seeing the shape through the months change. Full moon always brought back horrible memories, I usually was sobbing the rest of the night watching the bright beaming moon. It was worst when I hear a howl, sometimes I vomited.

My parents were just happy to have me home, but I isolated myself locking my door most days. They decided after they thought I transition enough to bring me to a therapist. A girl therapist exact, to see if I could open up and share my story. Each time I went I would start crying flash backs would appear and I would not be able to contain myself, I would shut down.

I try to explain what happened to my parents but it was always too hard. I could feel the pains I felt come alive again, to feel the fear I once had for a long time. It was all too much. I suffered from post-traumatic stress. When I saw my father again, something inside me that was so strong broke. Being back to normal life was so hard for me to the point I couldn’t live it. I was diagnosed with severe PSTD and major depression. I wasn’t sure what I was depressed about but I completely understood why I had PSTD.

I just stared out the window seeing kids my age heading off to the local college or start on apprenticeship. I was eighteen now but I still felt like a little girl, trapped in the woods with a bunch of vicious wolves snapping at my ankles.

I knew I wanted to write my unhappy fairy tale, to figure out why I was so upset still. After a year I wanted to share the battles I saw, hardships and a life I experienced different than our own. I wanted to show my parents werewolves…were in a sense yes different but not vicious humans gifted to turn into wolves. In fact they were actually from a line of large species of an ancient wolf who in the power of moon dust beaming down gains energy to turn human for survival reasons. They have conscious souls, not just animal instincts.

I stood up wearily. My legs feeling weak as I went to my little desk. I took a piece of pen and paper out. Was I really going to do this? I didn’t know because tears begin to fill the pages. I wrote something quickly but I seemed to avoid what I wrote….although whatever I did write, I felt relief from writing it but soon forgot after what I wrote because I did not want to face the truth.

I took a deep breath hearing my siblings slam the screen door close heading to school. I began to write out everything that happened between me and the Shadow Pack, but more importantly what happened between me and their Alpha, who was my enemy.