The Werewolf's Broken Souls

Prologue

Istare down at the brown-yellowish bruise covering the right side of my ribs.

This bruise won't heal no matter what I do.

I make sure to have nutritious meals to keep myself healthy, but the bruise has stuck.

It's an old one. Given I'm a werewolf, with the ability to shift into a wolf, you would think I'd heal fast. But the bruises keep getting damaged as they heal, which causes more severe bruising.

I know when I first got this huge bruise down my side, my ribs were broken.

I was gasping for weeks on end at the slightest movement but I had to keep carrying on.

I don't know how much longer I can go on with this abuse.

I'm seventeen and I'm hanging for my eighteenth birthday in nineteen days.

I don't know what I'm hoping for. I feel if I meet my mate, he'll just reject me because of who I am.

But I've been thinking if my mate is not in this pack, I can run away and find him.

Maybe finding him will put an end to the miserable life I'm living at the moment.

Maybe he will protect me. But that's a long shot.

I don't believe happiness is in my future, but I'm hoping to be pleasantly surprised.

As for the abuse, the story behind that started the moment my father got my mother pregnant.

Actually, scratch that, it started when I was three, when my father met his mate.

I have never met my mother. This is the story that's been told to me by my father.

He was out on a patrol run when he was younger and came across a she-rogue.

He lay with her and that was that. But weeks later she came back and claimed she was pregnant.

He supposedly looked after her in secret until the moment she gave birth.

Not sure about that part since my dad doesn't talk about her.

He only told me this story once when I was eight.

The only thing I really know about my mother is her name was Lizzy.

When she gave birth to me, my father took me and became my sole guardian.

That's the story. Nothing more was said.

I don't know what happened to her. Why did she let my dad take me?

Why didn't she take me with her? Why? Why?

Why? I have so many questions that begin with why.

But I've accepted I won't get any answers.

People like to make up bullshit, though.

As to why my father kept Lizzy a secret, it's because she was a rogue.

Every pack looks down on rogues. Pack members condemn rogues.

Reason being, pack members feel superior as a member of a pack.

Rogues are apparently animalistic outlanders.

I don't think there will ever be a truce between pack members and rogues.

But anyway, questions were obviously asked when my dad brought a baby home.

Secret got out. Rumours got added to the story.

The lies and abuse have taken on a story of their own.

No one seems to want to put a stop to it, though. Not even my father, if he even notices.

***

I'm driving back to my house. I will never call that place home.

It's just a house, full of toxicity. At least for me it is.

I know everyone would be happier if I wasn't there.

The sun is starting to set, the sky darkening as I pull up out front of my house.

I can't park in the driveway as my stepmother has her fancy car there.

I've been at work the last few hours. After school I go immediately to work.

Work is actually my escape. It's literally the only quiet and alone time I get.

Once I was old enough, I applied for any job as a way to not be at my house as much.

I work at a retail shop which sells teenage girl clothes.

I usually just fold clothes and serve some customers.

It doesn't get overly busy so I can relax.

Another perk of work is being paid. I've got some savings, not enough to move out, but I will eventually get there, I hope.

I've been working since I was fifteen and I'm nearly eighteen.

Before my dad gave me a crummy car, I used to take my work clothes to school and just walk to the shopping centre after school for work, then catch a taxi home.

That was a money drainer. But now I've got a car, even though it's shitty and I fear it'll break down on me, it hasn't.

It gets me places so I'm thankful for that.

Plus, I keep most of my shit in my car since I hate being at my house.

I've been working nearly every day for over two years, only taking the odd day off here and there when I've been in too much pain to work.

As for school, I hate it. That's bully central for me.

I go to a human school which werewolves attend.

The humans are fine. None of them know my story, but since I'm at the bottom of the popularity ladder, most humans don't even bother talking to me.

I do have one friend, though. Amelia. She's human.

She's sweet but quiet. I can tell she's got her own problems going on within her family or herself so we never talk about our personal lives.

We just chill together. People tease her too, but she believes ignorance is bliss.

I don't know how she does it, but she ignores everything.

Life is kind of passing her by. It's the same for me.

I want us to move in together after high school so it will be affordable but she's going to university.

She said she's going to take her family for all they've got, so they're paying for her university.

Good for her. She's escaping her family and this city.

I'm not going to university because no one will pay for it.

Plus, I'm not interested in education. I can barely pass my exams at school.

This is my senior year, and once it's finished, I'm going to work full time.

Out of school, working full time, the abuse shouldn't be as frequent then.

I get out of my car, grabbing the takeaway food I got for dinner and go into the house.

I don't want to risk eating my stepmother’s food.

She'll probably poison mine. I walk past the kitchen seeing her perfect form cooking at the stove.

She scoffs when she sees me as she always does, but of course she doesn't do it in front of my father.

I head to my room and lock the door, not like anyone will come in, but I still do it.

I sit on my bed, grab my laptop and watch a movie while I eat.

Thank the school for making laptops mandatory since year nine.

Even though parents pay for the laptops through school fees, I'm glad for the school.

The laptop is another form of sanity, given movies are an escape.

After I finish my food, I throw the rubbish in the bin in the corner then grab my bathrobe to go to the bathroom.

I strip out of my clothes, trying not to look at my bruised body in the mirror and hop in the shower.

Instead of scrubbing my body from work sweat, I let the hot water drizzle down, easing the tension in my body.

I hear a banging on the bathroom door that makes me roll my eyes even though he can't see.

Not only do I have a horrible stepmother, but I also have a hateful half-brother.

He's fourteen, but fuck, he has the disrespect and aggressiveness you'd expect from a wicked old man.

I get out of the shower, wrap my bathrobe around me and open the door.

His dark almost black eyes glare into mine.

“Took you long enough, mutt,” Kieryn mutters venomously, bumping my shoulder roughly as he pushes past me and shuts the bathroom door.

I wince from the bump, wrap my arms around myself and walk to my room.

I know he's younger than me so I could stand up to him, but he's quite tall for a fourteen-year-old.

Plus, his mother would go ballistic if I hurt her precious son.

Though my father somewhat cares about me I guess, she would find a way to twist the story so he believes whatever she tells him.

It's not worth the trouble. It's not worth the trouble...

Have I lost my fight? I don't think that's a good mentality to have.