Imprinting on a nun

2~ Life cycle

Unknown

When I was four years old I witnessed my dad hitting my mom violently with his bare hands.  I stared through the small crack of the open door, shaking in fright.  I didn’t know what was going on, from my dad always being so friendly, with big toothy grins and contagious laughs to this red faced vein bulging monster.  I wanted to do something.  I wanted to help mom get her frightened expression of her face.  I deeply wanted to save her but I was too scared.  I was afraid of my dad and what he could do to me.  And from dad day I labled myself as a stupid coward not even being able to confront my dad, whatsover stand up for my mom.

At five my dad disappeared, bringing peace to our home.  Except I never found peace in my mind as I remembered my dad’s voice vividly every single day in my mind, “When I come back I want you to be pro in something.  Anything.  Surprise me.  I want you to be better than anyone ever could be.”

So I started playing chess.  I read books that I stole in community book stores about chess.  I let old people, sitting in parks, talk to me about chess.  I dedicated my whole year in chess, trying to beat older children and learning from their mistakes.

When the day came, after nine months, my dad arrived, acting warm friendly, like he always does, until the night comes.  But I remember how much I appreciated my dad being nice to me, even though he wasn’t to mom.

“Dad, I did as you told me.”  I said one night as my dad relaxed in front of the fireplace.  I held my chess board tightly in my small hands.

“Chess?” Dad raised his eyebrows and I nodded excitedly.

Dad swiped his tongue over his teeth with a smirk on his face.

“What made you think of chess?”  He tapped on the table in front of me and I put the chess board on it and packed out all the pieces.

I raised my shoulders, not knowing what to say and what exactly my own answer would be.

“What’s your favourite piece?”

“The Queen.”

“Why?” Dad asked, huffing through his nose.

“Because she could do anything.”

I remember seeing how my dad  rolled his eyes and how miserable I felt at that moment, thinking how I let my dad down with the wrong answer.

“Let’s play,” He commanded and I felt heavy nervousness at that moment.

Whitls playing dad chatted with me as if I was a grown man.

“You see, the king should be your favourite player.”

“All through the game, everyone tries to protect the King and take the other King down.  The King basically does nothing.  He gets as he deserves.”

I remember how I frowned at his words and thinking of it now, how my dad’s words were initiating on something completely else that doesn’t get anything to do with chess.

At the end of that night dad won and angrily told me that I should find something else to do and that chess is for pissy’s.

So I started studying chess harder and worked day and night on my moves that my mom started stressing about my social life. But all I cared about was making my dad happy.

When I was six I challenged my dad again and I lost.

“I told you to find something else.” And because of me he hit my mom out of frustration.  

I started raveling my mind to find something else to do but I couldn’t come up with anything, until one day I saw a man, playing guitar on a busy street.  I gawked at him with big eyes and when he looked at me, questiongly I let my tongue ramble. “Can you teach me?”

And in a weak english accent he answered ‘sure.’ I learned that his home language was spanish, so whitlz learning me he also taught me spanish and I taught him how to speak better english.  I felt satisfied as I improved my spanish and guitar skills everyday after school.

When I turned seven I could speak spanish fluently and play the guitar on an intimate level but my dad never visited that year.  I somewhat felt relieved, improving everything I could do more and more with the man I met on the street.  I called him uncle Caleb, and I saw him as a dad figure, as my dad never was home. I insisted that mom should invite uncle Caleb for dinner, so when she did they instantly fell in love.

At eight I still haven’t seen my dad but I continued to develop skill and mom and uncle Caleb signed me up for more language classes and I chose German and Chinese giving it all every second day in a week.  Mom was already proud of me that I could play the guitar and speak spanish without her even knowing that I studied it with Uncle Caleb.

At the age of ten I could speak five languages, play piano, guitar and violin. Dad still didn’t show up, so I worked harder, whitz trying out new things.  I was obsessed with being the best.  I was first in class, I trained to be the best in athletics.  I never settled for second place.  People even thought I was being a bully but actually I was just being very competitive.

“Son, just know that you can’t be great at everything.” Mom frequently told me, combing her fingers through my hair.

“I can.” I kept on insisting and I was.

On my eleventh birthday I was announced as the junior chess world champion. I never felt so stoked in my life and somehow I hoped that dad would see the news about me and come visit.  Challenge me in a chess game so that I can show him how good I became.  So that I can surprise him with all the languages I can speak and instruments I can play.  It never happened, so I tried my best to try and forget about dad after all the many sentences of mom saying that she didn't know where dad was, but that it was better that way. Mom and Uncle Caleb also got married and Uncle Caleb tried to be the best man for me and mom even though he didn’t bring in a lot of money with a few gigs he had to play guitar.  Me and mom never cared about money as much as dad always did, so it didn’t bother us if all we could afford was food on the table.

Turning thirteen I started to focus on girls.  Their smiles, their laughs, their bodies.  I was intrigued by them and even started liking some of them but there was always this one girl who always catches my eyes more than others and made me think in the night more and more.  But even though girls were my weakness, I never let them come in between my focus in whatever I was doing.  I still worked hard in being the best.

At fourteen I started to lose focus and went to small parties, which contained alcohol.  With the thought of ‘just take a break’ I started taking more alcohol than I should’ve and I started to hang with the wrong people.  Hackers.  They taught me how to hack into rich people’s bank accounts, or even just to make chaos in their lives.  They taught me how to smoke weed and watch porn on different sites.  Even though I knew it was wrong, I became addicted.  Stealing and making innocent people victims.  I became a cyber bully.  I ruined people’s lives.

At fifteen I searched my dad in every dark way I could and after a week of deep searching he came home.

“My son, I see you finally find something you’re good at.”

He knew.  He knew that I was a hacker and I felt ashamed.

Until my dad’s words almost made my jaw reach the floor.

“I’m proud of you.”

I swallowed, trying to place my dad’s emotions.

“You finally found a way to be a king.”

 I stayed with my dad this one school holiday and I was surprised to see in the wealth my dad lived in. He lived with several other men in a huge mansion.  When I asked him who the men were he replied with a curt, “One day you’ll know everything.”

In the meantime I lived with the strange men who seemed very strong and tanned for only working in offices the whole day.

When I went back home, mom and uncle Caleb weren’t so happy with me that I went with dad, but they accepted it.

“Listen, you’re dad isn’t who you think he is.” Mom said this one night and when she was about to elaborate Uncle Caleb appeared and she stayed quiet, never speaking of it again.

On my sixteen birthday I got the present of severe pain.  Pain that I never felt before across my whole body.

“Mom, please make the pain go away.” Mom put wet clothes on me, and she almost sweated as much as I did.  Her face was worry streaked and I remember her calling dad with urgency laced in her voice.

“He’s sixteen today, how could you forget.” Mom had anger in her voice as well and after a few hours of waiting dad appeared beside my bed.

“Hey son.” he had sympathy in his voice and he gently threw me over his shoulders.

“I’ll bring him back in a month's time.”

I was confused up until later that night, at my dad’s mansion, he laid me down on wilted grass, with all the other men circling me.  Their faces had so many different expressions at the same time.  I remember how scared and vulnerable I felt, when my body started making tearing noises and the pain became unbearable.  It spasmed through my muscled and I screamed, but the pain draised the noise away.

“What’s happening to me.” I kept chanting and no one gave me an answer.

“Be calm.” Dad said and somehow he’s voice soothed me.

And after a few minutes I was in another body.  I was a wolf.

“Welcome to the pack son.” Dad said, patting me on my head.  It felt strange but somehow normal.  As if my body has waited for this transformation for a very long time.  Everything hit my nose and ears harder and I couldn’t see colors anymore.  When I wanted to speak, only snarls and barks came out.

I turned into a wolf.  At that time my mind  got tied on the time I read about werewolves for days. It somehow intrigued me and deep inside me I knew that’s what I was.  A werewolf.  I turned into a werewolf.

Uncertain of how I felt about everything I ran away, deep into dark woods.  I felt a heavy hunger brewing inside me and as each minute passed, my body weakened.  So with a vivid smell I ran back to my dad, knowing I needed help, before something worse could happen.

When I arrived, the smell of fresh meat hit my nose and without thinking I ravaged it.  Dad patted me on the back.

“Good boy.”

Afterwards I layed down and fell asleep.  When I woke up, I was human again.

At seventeenI knew everything about  our pack and that my dad was the Alpha and I were to take over when he retired.  Unless someone challenged dad, which rarely happened.

I lived a normal life in between being a werewolf.  Dad learned me well, and wanted me to take the growing pack over when I turned eighteen.

So I worked hard on my stamina as a wolf, examining everything about every wolf.  I also learned that my dad owned almost every building in our town and that he wanted me to take over as well.  That was proud of me at how well I was handling things and this one time, when we both were enjoying a beer in front of the fireplace, dad started talking with a serious voice.

“Son, when you turn eighteen,” he nervously cleared his throat, “You will start to lead the pack and you must know the dangers there are in our world.”

“There’s many other enemy packs and once they find out that you're a new arrival, they’ll try and come through like nothing before.  They’ll do anything to try and destroy you.”

I nervously nodded, trying to understand my dad’s words.

“Woman is our weakness,” He said and I frowned, “You’ll learn more about when you turn eighteen.”

“Dad, why did you hit mom?”  I felt shook at my own question.

Dad looked down with a guilty expression on his face.

“Being a werewolf, comes with a lot of anger issues, son.”

I swallowed, thinking that that was the most stupid excuse I’veI ever heard and as if he could read my face’s expression he continued to talk, “It’s hard to control.”

“But it isn’t uncontrollable.” I said and gritted hard on my teeth.

“One day, you’ll see son.” And with that, he patted my head and walked away.

I gulped all my gathered spit and started to release my uncertainties on the dark web, like I usually did.  It was like my coping mechanism.  I didn’t exactly know what I was doing, but I did it.  And somehow it fitted with me being a dark being that I turned out to be.  Being like my dad, I somehow hated that I turned out to be a werewolf. I didn’t want to be anything like him.  But like they say, ‘Like father, like son.’