Merciless Luna

Quick Tidbit Thank you for giving this story a shot! I just want to let my readers know that this is a mature story, and may have serious situations that may or may not trigger you. While I will try to keep the story from diving into these themes in an extreme fashion, some of it will be required in order to tie the all the components together. There will be depictions that may or may not be difficult for some to read, and I want to give full disclosure that you are reading at your own risk. I will place a "Mature Content" Header on the chapters that will have some form of serious/sensitive topics. Please feel free to skip these chapters if it may cause a trigger. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it! Please let me know in the comments sections what you think so far of this story. ~JM~ ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ How do I summarize my current life? Indifferent seems to come to mind. Living in the human world, hiding your identity, and not really sure why it needs to be hidden, but only understanding that mother requires it as such. It really is a small town, with the usual seasonal changes. Fall is my favorite season...the leaves ever-changing colors in a vibrant display of rebellion against winter, showing that even as life is fading from the branches, the leaves fall in a blaze of fury, wanted, loved, and cherished by the eyes of many. Loved, such a foreign word within my mind. What is love? What is to be loved?   For as long as I can remember, we have lived in this small home at the outskirts of town. It’s a simple cottage with two bedrooms, a fireplace, a small kitchen. It’s enough for mother and myself, hidden away from humans, and not easy to find by our kind. You’re probably wondering what kind? Well, werewolves of course. You see, mother and I are werewolves without a pack. While many would consider this as a “rogue status”, mother says she simply wanted a peaceful life for us. Peace is a funny thing actually. How can we live in peace, when all my life I’ve been teased for my name and appearance? To the humans, I’m merely an outcast, standing tall with curves to die for, yet still labeled as fat and ugly. I always wear baggy clothes to hide my curves. Maybe that’s' why they feel the need to embarrass and humiliate me, as I choose not wear clothes that reveal too much and have me labeled as the next slut. Hair darker than the night, eyes to match my hair, yet skin that shimmers in a tan glow. No, there is no paleness from me. I wonder if that’s because of my father, whom I’ve never known. Mother doesn’t even have pictures of him, but told me that he named me before we were abandoned. It’s a tricky subject that if brought up will put her in a fit of hysteria.   Rajeira Rose, that’s me. I don’t even know how they came up with such a name. But it seemed to be funny to the humans, poking fun, saying it’s a boy name, and outsider name, and that I don’t belong with them. I’m just glad I’m done with high school, and next month I will be turning 18. I will be leaving for college soon, and be thankful to be as far away from my mother as possible. It’s difficult living with her, her paranoia, her outbursts. I resent what she’s become, though I also feel sadden for her current state. I remember her beauty, and eyes that shown brighter than the stars. Yet slowly, she was slipping away from me, up to the point that I was caring for her instead of her caring for me. You see mother has as an addiction, and while many would quick to think of human based addictions, mother’s is quite different.   Wolfsbane, our weakness, impairs our immunity, weakens our body, almost as if converting our natural strength into that of a human. When wolfsbane is in our system, we lose connection to our wolf, we can’t shift, we can’t sense our destined mates. However, if prolonged exposure to wolfsbane occurs, it can offer a surreal sense of high, and that’s what mother became addicted to when she started on wolfsbane. “It’s only to hide us honey” she would often say as I saw her take that shot. But slowly I wondered if it really was for our safety.   I refuse to take it. For starters, I haven’t even shifted, nor have I been able to connect with my own wolf. Normally wolves reach maturity at sixteen, when they connect with their inner wolves. Normally this is also the time when they can sense their mates, and can shift for the first time. Strike three for three in that department for me. I have neither shifted, nor found my mate, nor have I heard my inner wolf. Somedays I wonder if I’m secretly human and that’s why I'm hidden to the world, but my superhuman strength, sense of smell, and keen hearing say otherwise. Not to mention I'm the spitting image of my mother, save my hair color.   Frankly, I’m thankful I’m behind in my wolf development. I don’t feel the need to have a fated mate to be chained to. Mate for life? Mind link? Connection of the soul? If you lose your fated mate you could potentially lose your own life due to heartbreak? Nope, I’m good. I can never see myself connected to anyone, to be subject to them as if they were a drug one can’t live without. I refuse! I refuse to be bound by a mate, to submit myself to their needs and wants. I had to take care of myself for the most part, and I’m perfectly fine living and dying on my own.   I’m shaken from the thoughts as the wind blows my hair over my face. Sighing, I brush it back, pulling my hoodie over my head again. I look at the trail, and see the tiny cottage just above. The lights are dimmed, but I know my mother is in there somewhere, probably passed out from her usual high. I slowly make my way up the steps, pushing the door open. She never locks the door...for someone paranoid of being found, this would be something you’re supposed to do. Rolling my eyes at the usual easy entry I make my way into our cozy home, looking around for the pile of bones she has become. Entering the living room, I see her sprawled out on the couch, eyes rolled to the back of her head. Yep, she’s in one of her highs. I sigh as I look around the floor, seeing a couple of bottles open and empty. Shaking my head, I make my way to my room, putting the bag of books and materials I will be needing for college next week. It’s a miracle I was able to afford the supplies. I work full-time in a cleaning company, and I'm dreading the fact I may have to quit or go to part time once school starts. It’s our only source of income, and while minute in funds, it helps us keep a roof over our head and food on the table, even if it’s only a meal a day.