Four years later, as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror, I was left stunned and bewildered. It was unbelievable, but I had become a werewolf! How was this even possible? Trying not to panic, I had to keep myself composed, as I couldn't risk my parents finding out about my transformation, especially after Shawn had jokingly suggested the idea not too long ago.
Several weeks ago, my group of friends had been amazed by what they dubbed my "superpowers." My abilities included running faster than an average human, possessing incredible strength, having super hearing, and even a rapid healing ability. My parents, upon discovering my extraordinary capabilities when I officially moved in with them, were taken aback, making me feel uneasy and different. Since then, I had tried to maintain a low profile, but it wasn't always easy, as I couldn't resist the joy of running, which became somewhat of an open secret.
I had considered joining the school sports team, but the attention it would bring deterred me from doing so. Shawn, one of my friends, had even teased me, suggesting I might be a werewolf or vampire. His words stuck with me, prompting me to secretly research the topic. While some descriptions didn't align with my experiences, many mentioned super-strength, super-speed, and heightened senses – traits that aligned with my own abilities.
Despite my reservations about delving into the realm of mythological creatures, I couldn't ignore the anomalies in my life any longer. Thus, without my parents' knowledge, I would take their car and drive to the forest where everything began – the place where I had fallen over the cliff four years ago. Running through that forest made me feel connected to something familiar, a feeling I had been missing for ages. I longed to discover the truth behind these strange occurrences.
Time and again, I would call out to "my wolf" while running through the forest, hoping for some sign or connection, but nothing happened. Frustrated, I eventually gave up. However, today, while contemplating my lost family, my past, I felt an unusual connection. My bones cracked, my body trembled, and before I knew it, I was on all fours – a wolf.
Now, stranded in my wolf form, I tried desperately to shift back to my human self. The experience was unsettling, and I was unsure if my wolf could communicate with me. Chanting "shift, shift, shift" in my head, I remained trapped in this unfamiliar body. However, when I imagined myself in human form, a tremor ran through me, and I found myself back on my knees, naked, breathing heavily on the floor of my room.
Recalling the night four years ago, when I awoke naked, the mystery began to unravel. Perhaps I had been in my wolf form when the accident occurred, explaining the peculiar circumstances surrounding my transformation.
Despite the exhaustion, something felt different now. It was as if my brain had finally acknowledged a part of me that had been there all along – my wolf. How had I never felt it before? Why did it surface now? Perhaps my acceptance of being a supernatural being that shouldn't exist had triggered this awakening.
Curiosity turned towards my biological parents, wondering if they, too, were werewolves. As I pondered the unknown, a new chapter of my life had begun, full of questions and revelations about my true nature and the world I now found myself a part of.
Lost in thought, I gaze out the window, observing the car parked outside the house as darkness descends. The encroaching night doesn't bother me; after all, my supernatural eyes can easily navigate the darkness. As I come to accept my true identity as a supernatural creature, I feel a surge of empowerment and invincibility. The urge to run overtakes me, and I quickly change into a dress that will be easy to take off, slip on some sandals, and grab my purse.
"I'm going to Anna's!" I call out, reaching for the car keys. But before I can open the front door, my mom emerges from the kitchen.
"At this hour, Riley? It's late, and you have classes tomorrow," she says, her hand absently playing with her thinning hair. Cancer may be taking its toll, but she remains strong, refusing to yield to the illness. I try not to dwell on the effects of her decision to forgo chemo; it's a painful thought. I had urged her to undergo treatment, but she insists on savoring her remaining years, choosing to avoid the suffering that chemo might entail. At eighty-two, she's surprisingly agile and independent.
Part of me wants to be selfish and demand that she undergo treatment to have more time together, but I keep my thoughts to myself, cherishing every moment I spend with her.
"I know, but her dog destroyed part of the project, and she needs help," I fib, feeling the pang of guilt tugging at my heart. I don't like lying to my parents, but I fear their rejection once they discover my true identity as a supposed "freak" or an existence that shouldn't be.
With a sigh, my mom reluctantly gives in, as she always does when it comes to my independence. She doesn't want to hold me back, recognizing that I can take care of myself.
"Just don't stay out too long, okay, dear?" she cautions.
"Yes, Mom. I love you," I reply, giving her a kiss and a hug. It has become a ritual for me to do so every time I leave the house, uncertain if she'll still be there, okay, and alive when I return.
...
I drive quickly, eager to return home before it gets too late. Parking in a secluded area, I ensure no one is around before stripping off my clothes and focusing on embracing my wolf form. I call for her, visualizing the image I saw in the mirror. My heart races as my bones crack and my body trembles, once again standing on all fours as my wolf.
A surge of adrenaline and excitement courses through me, and I happily bark and leap around, in tune with my wolf's emotions. I feel guilty for ignoring her existence for four long years. She was hidden from me, and now I finally embrace her.
Bursting with joy, I let out a loud howl without expecting a response. To my surprise, I hear another howl in return. My heart pounds erratically, and instinctively, I run towards the source of the sound. I howl again, receiving another howl in response. This exchange continues until I spot another figure in the darkness.
Uncertain of what to do, my ears lower, tail tense as I cautiously approach the unknown wolf, who is smaller than me. When we get close enough, the wolf playfully barks at me, and I respond in kind. We begin chasing each other, playfully teasing, barking, and howling. It's the most fun I've ever had, feeling like a pup all over again.
Time slips away as we continue this game, but suddenly, another wolf howls, and the one with me howls back, indicating it's time for her to return home. I take this cue to head back to my car, which takes longer than expected, making me nervous as I promised my mom I wouldn't be too late.
Upon my return, my parents are on the couch watching an old telenovela. My mom looks at me with concern, but I reassure her with a watery kiss on her forehead, which she playfully complains about, leading to laughter between my dad and me. I take my pre-heated food to my room and eat while gazing at my poster wall, displaying a photo of the wild taiga forest in northern Russia—a place I'm fascinated with. I imagine the untamed beauty, flora, and animals, dreaming of photographing them. It's my desire to visit someday.
Although my parents have offered to fund the trip, the thought of leaving them behind unsettles me. Having already lost one family, I'm determined not to lose another. Besides, they wouldn't be able to keep up with my pace in the wild, so I've been saving money for the day I muster the courage to go. After all, I'm only sixteen, and I want to be done with school before embarking on any big adventures.
As the night goes on, my eyes grow heavy, and I prepare for bed. Before drifting off to sleep, I express gratitude for my parents and my newfound discovery.
Seven years had passed, and I felt utterly numb. Tears had left my eyes irritated, and the weight on my chest felt like an elephant sitting on it. My wolf inside me howled in pain, reflecting the agony in my heart. I couldn't bear to leave the cemetery, where my deceased father lay at rest. The pain was overwhelming.
My mother had passed away three years earlier from cancer, but at least her passing had been painless. I was grateful she didn't have to suffer. With her gone, my father became my anchor, and together, we coped with the loss. Taking care of him and the house helped keep me occupied. I had been working since the age of fifteen to support the family who took me in when I had no one else. They didn't need the extra money, but I couldn't stand idly by, knowing the sacrifices they made for me.
My father had been my best friend. We shared a love for books, discussing them after I finished reading. But now, he was gone, and the pain of being alone was unbearable. With no children of their own, only a few friends attended his funeral, most of them no longer alive themselves.
I had deliberately avoided close friendships because I couldn't bear the pain of loss, especially after my mother's death. But now, with both my parents gone, I felt utterly lost.
Yesterday, the lawyer read my parents' will. They left everything to me— the house, their belongings, and a substantial amount of money they had carefully saved over sixty years. But despite this wealth, my mind was elsewhere, still longing for my father's presence.
Deciding to keep the house as a remnant of my parents, I chose to rent it to an organization dedicated to rescuing trafficked girls, providing them safety until they could find a secure home. The condition was that they kept the house intact, and I allowed them to keep most of the furniture except for the items with sentimental value, which I stored away.
Feeling suffocated, I knew I had to leave and breathe, allowing my wolf to run free. Once I settled the affairs related to the house and my parents' belongings, I planned to pursue my dream destination: Russia. As much as I disliked the idea of leaving my parents' graves alone, they had each other, and I believed they would understand.
Whispering "I love you, mom and dad" to their resting places side by side, I still couldn't grasp the reality that they were gone forever. We had shared just eleven precious years together, which had passed like a blur. Now, I longed to go back in time and savor those moments a little longer. Eleven years were too short when it came to the people you loved.
Although I yearned to find my biological parents, fear of a blood test revealing my non-human nature held me back. Still, I knew I would figure it out eventually. For now, it was time to focus on myself and discover who I truly was, now that I had no one else to lean on.
...
Moving on is an arduous process, regardless of the circumstances. My connection with my adoptive parents ran deep. They not only saved my life but also became the first people I formed memories with after the incident. Now that they were gone forever, it left me shattered.
Detaching myself from their memory took weeks. The thought of parting with their belongings, their essence, threatened to tear me apart. But I knew they would forever hold a place in my heart. My adoptive parents would never be forgotten.
Leaving for an uncertain period brought some comfort knowing they would be there when I returned. Just before boarding the plane, I gazed at the stars, feeling their presence watching over me. Somehow, I knew they were proud that I was embarking on my first independent journey.
As I handed my ticket to the woman at the gate, she directed me to my business-class seat. I wanted to be comfortable during the long flight, fearing a panic attack in the cramped economy section. Strangers made me anxious, and the thought of sitting beside one for hours stressed me out. So, I indulged myself with this treat.
Stowing my bag under the seat, I settled by the window, still in disbelief that I was going to Russia. The idea seemed crazy, considering I was always the odd girl at school who stuck close to her parents, who others often mistook for grandparents. I had skipped camping trips, fearing something might happen to my mom while I was away, leaving me disconnected from my classmates.
While they laughed at me, I never bothered to explain the real reasons behind my behavior. Those classmates were just nameless faces, and their opinions meant nothing to me. However, I sometimes regretted not becoming more independent while my parents were still alive, unprepared for the life that awaited me once they were gone.
Thankfully, my parents had equipped me with essential skills like cooking, cleaning, and sewing. My dad even taught me car repair and wilderness survival. Although I could fend for myself, it didn't lessen the void they left behind.
With my eyes closed, the plane accelerated, and I thanked my parents silently for the life they provided and the woman I had become. Embarking on my own adventure filled me with both excitement and fear, wondering what experiences awaited me.
