ie'
y disheveled clothes, and I raise my hands to the scissors and shout a warning at my cousin Alex. However, he grins sen
e kids, it will be a game. But we are not. After I fell asleep, exhausted from my chores, Alex snuck into my r
He just wants to be satiated. Looks at me like a meal for his satisfaction. It makes me want to throw up and I clutc
ant pleasure, as I stab him in the shoulder, and when he takes a small step back with a frown, he ends up accidentally tripp
e afraid that Alex might just be faking his fall. He could be quite cunning at times. When I get to stan
comfortable and my heart beats like a mad drum. Fear invades me. What do I do? Since my parents died, I was adopted by my aunt and uncle, a
driven to the brink. Sort of taking the leap. Then I stopped being suicidal and planned to run away. And loo
y and blue boys. The idiot didn't even have a condom. I know he will not forgive me when he wakes up, or
the werewolf world. My father had been his loyal gamma warrior, and shortly after, my father was killed in the line of duty.
ing to keep me, sort of like an adoption without papers and signatures, even if he is rumored to be bloodthi
during my thralldom and I let myself out of the house without bothering t
lace and cannot find it. It is not listed as a place. The gray area is r
the map and tucking it into my bag. I wal
would have regained consciousness. Not as if I cared, I just c
had on me, mostly on foot and then hitching rides from less car
a fork on the right, and the road isn't tarred. A wooden signpost reads OUTSKIRTS in red diagonal block l
then painted violet. Because in place of workers, there are gamma warriors dressed in jackets and jean
to the stealth I need to maintain. My snooping around brings me to an open-air
is delicate facial features and bare pectoral muscles are built like the most perfect sculptu
l. I amplify my voice again, letting him feel I am a distraction that should be accorded some interest. "Tsk.
I pace along the bank. "Please, wake up. I really
coming this way. A gamma warrior's voice comes from outside, humming to h
een me leaves. Jumping in, I find out that the pool isn't just water. It's actually
hand in an effort to call for help towards the prisoner, hoping he would wake the hell up now. He
eel like I can see I'm right wher
the water at the same time. He doesn't grab my hand. He isn't Jesus. My body
g the war a few years ago, and since then, whenever his wound attacks him, his eye