Tormenting Territory

Chapter 3

As the piercing sound of my alarm clock fills the room, I jolt out of bed in a state of shock. The sight of my disheveled bed, with school books and crumpled papers strewn all over it, only adds to my sense of disorientation. Luckily, I didn’t receive any requests for help from anyone after dinner last night. However, my hand still bears the marks of Sophie’s “accidental” crushing in the door. Despite my limited knowledge in history, I’m determined to pass today’s exam. It’s a daunting task, especially when I’m also responsible for managing all the household chores. But with a little bit of luck and a lot of hard work, I’m hoping to come out on top.

I make sure to utilize any and every chance to engage in studying. Even while performing mundane tasks such as folding laundry, I make it a point to read my books. If I happen to have a few spare moments between chores, I use that opportunity to peruse my notes. This is the only way to ensure that I attain high grades that will help me shape my seemingly bleak future. However, this method of studying has its drawbacks. The creases that adorn the papers make it difficult for me to read some words. Moreover, it’s not an uncommon occurrence for me to doze off while studying, only to be jolted awake by the sudden blaring of my alarm clock.

Although I long to remain in bed and indulge in a few more hours of sleep, I’m fully aware that such a luxury is out of the question since I have to attend school. Fortunately, I’m not held accountable for preparing breakfast. My father believes it’s inhumane for me to be burdened with the task of cooking before heading off to school. Nonetheless, I am responsible for planning it, but my team in the kitchen, who no longer attend school but instead work in the packhouse, do not have to go anywhere in the morning, so they dutifully cook the food. With a deep sigh, I reluctantly haul myself out of bed and gather fresh clothes to take into the bathroom.

The appearance of my jeans might lead you to think that they’re a trendy, distressed pair. The damage and wear on the fabric are noticeable as if they were intentionally frayed and faded. However, the reality is quite different and somewhat embarrassing. These jeans were once a complete, intact pair a few years ago. However, the chores and daily activities have taken their toll on my clothing over time. I know better than to request a new pair, so I make do with what I have. I understand that others have more difficult situations than mine, even if we compare it to the female wolf characters in complicated family relationships portrayed in werewolf novels.

In contrast to those individuals, I possess a wardrobe filled with various clothing options and a personal bathroom exclusively for my use that is located within my smaller-scale bedroom. In terms of appearance and size, Sophie’s room exudes a regal air akin to a castle. Meanwhile, my own room, in comparison, seems to resemble a humble hut due to its compactness and simplistic design. One thing that remains solely under my control, without interference from pack members, Mom, or Sophie, is my personal space. This includes my room, wardrobe, and ability to maintain personal hygiene at my discretion.

I’m happy not to have to share the bathroom with the other members; only the goddess knows what they’d do to me when I stand naked in a shower in a public space. The hairs on my arms rise when I think the thought, and I shudder with discomfort. Without much thought, I attend to my personal grooming needs before addressing the unruly mass of curls atop my head. It’s been years since I’ve had a professional haircut, and as a result, my hair has grown to an impressive length that I immensely enjoy. However, the upkeep of brushing and styling it has become quite the chore due to its length and tendency to tangle. The curly locks cascade down past my curvaceous posterior, defying any attempts at smoothing them out.

I opt for a simple solution, gathering my hair into a giant knot atop my head and tucking my school books into my well-worn backpack. It’s foolish to compare the amount that can fit into a backpack versus a purse. Functionality should always take precedence over beauty. Sophie may choose to spend over two-thousand dollars on a branded bag, but if she wants to carry most of her books under her arm, that is her business. However, I find it to be a stupid decision. I put down the last book and take my bag downstairs, where the pack members are already sitting at the breakfast table. Dad is gone until tomorrow, and I know that putting myself among the others isn’t an option.

As I push through the swinging kitchen doors, my eyes light up at the sight of Gloria holding a freshly baked breakfast croissant oozing with melted ham and cheese. A smile spreads across my face as I realize that she has mastered my recipe, demonstrating her eagerness to acquire new skills. While my kitchen staff never speaks ill of me or belittles me, our relationship is strictly professional, without any elements of friendship. It’s a bittersweet kind of relationship we have, and while I long for us to be friends, I understand and accept our current circumstances. As I approach, my gaze falls upon Aimee, standing there, holding a steaming cup of coffee in her hands. Upon noticing my presence, Brit rushes to prepare a cup of coffee for me as well, with the same level of care and attention that she gave to Aimee’s cup. I’m glad to receive it, and take a moment to savor the delightful scent of the newly brewed coffee.

“Thank you so much, everyone. It means a lot,” I say, with a slight smile directed at my dear “friends.”

“Oh, Sapphire, you’re too modest. We couldn’t do it without your amazing planning skills and creative thinking. All the dishes would be as bland as dry bread without you,” Gloria responds warmly.

As we share a moment of lightheartedness, our conversation flows effortlessly. However, our peaceful exchange is abruptly interrupted by the sound of Sophie’s voice booming from the dining room. She expresses her dissatisfaction, stating that she has been patiently waiting for what feels like an eternity for someone to fill her coffee cup. Aimee reluctantly complies with the demand and leaves the room, rolling her eyes in annoyance as she disappears into the dining room. As I’m obligated to walk to school, I’m required to depart from my home much earlier than my peers. As a result, I must hastily consume my breakfast and coffee before making my way out the back door.

I make a conscious effort to steer clear of the other young people, ensuring that I’m not in close proximity to them for an extended period of time. As I finally set foot on the road without any disruptions, I feel a wave of relief washing over me. The light drizzle of rain begins to soak my hair, but luckily, I tied it up before leaving. My hair is thick and long but unfortunately frayed, making it a nightmare to dry without a hairbrush. If left undried, it’ll become unruly and bushy, which won’t be ideal to walk around with. Although nobody ever pays much attention to me, I take pride in my appearance and like to present myself as best I can when around others.

Fang’s Academy is a learning institution that caters primarily to our pack’s youth and wolves from neighboring packs. Education was a melting pot of varied beings and intellects in the past, but the present climate has changed. Unfortunately, bigotry has reared its ugly head, creating an “us against them” mentality that has spread like wildfire across the globe. Long gone are the days when demons were the enemy, and anyone different from you is automatically deemed the enemy. Nowadays, academies no longer hold mixed-race students; instead, the school population is segregated by race. It’s an unfortunate circumstance we’re currently facing, as it can potentially result in a significant issue of inbreeding within the werewolf population.

Due to the ongoing territorial conflicts, the number of werewolves is decreasing with each passing day. If this trend continues, it may ultimately lead to a shortage of werewolves capable of reproducing and sustaining future generations. It appears I’m the only one who’s concerned about this matter. Others seem to prioritize the maintenance of a pure gene pool above all else, deeming any other action as irrational. However, I firmly believe that if we don’t allow werewolves to breed with other races, our existence as a species will be threatened with extinction. Did you know that accepting a mate who belongs to a different species is generally considered taboo?

It’s unfortunate that we may have to forfeit our chance for eternal happiness simply because our genes may become “weaker.” However, I don’t believe that our offspring becomes weaker due to the interbreeding of different species. In fact, there’s no scientific evidence to support this claim. It’s worth noting that werewolves originally descended from Lycans, who also held the same archaic beliefs that the werewolves currently do. They realized at an early stage that their existence would come to an end if they refused to be with their significant other, who belonged to a different race.

It’s an unfortunate tragedy that the origins of the werewolves have been forgotten by society today. However, regardless of whether my soulmate is a wolf, leprechaun, or troll, I will accept them with open arms. In all its forms, love is a beautiful thing that should never be denied due to societal norms. It is quite possible that I may even meet my soulmate today, as the timing of such a connection is unpredictable and adds to the excitement of the experience. The anticipation of this possibility only serves to make the eventual meeting all the more worthwhile.

As the lessons crawl by at a snail’s pace, an alluring aroma lingers in the air. Despite my best efforts to brush it off, the scent persists, tempting me to indulge. Eventually, I succumb to the temptation and give in to the pleasure. It’s only when my little sister, Sophie, emerges from a nearby room that I realize the source of the tantalizing fragrance.

“For f**k’s sake! Can you never help but be in the way!?” she exclaims, annoyed, and rolls her eyes.

As she briskly strides towards the cafeteria, I instinctively turn towards the entrance, inadvertently locking eyes with the most stunning individual I have ever laid my gaze upon. His piercing brown eyes penetrate through my soul, leaving me spellbound and entranced. It takes me a moment to gather my thoughts and realize that he is actually speaking to me.

“Huh?” I ask stupidly, a little embarrassed that I didn’t perceive what he said.

“I wonder if you can move?” he asks, clearly annoyed, and I move to give him space to walk by me.

As I stand in the hallway watching the mysterious figure follow my sister, I can’t help but feel nonplussed. Who is he, and why does it feel like we’ve met before? I find myself sinking into the back of the classroom, opening my history book to prepare for class. A sense of sadness washes over me as I come to terms with the fact that he left, especially to follow my sister. I can’t help but wonder why I feel this way. We don’t know each other, so why does his departure affect me so profoundly? Perhaps if he knew me, he would’ve said something to jog my memory. But alas, the students stream into the classroom, followed shortly by the teacher.

I can’t help but feel like this day will never end. It seems that my life is all about waiting for the days to pass so that I can be free from my tormentors, mainly consisting of my family. One step closer is the fact that at midnight, I’ll turn eighteen and officially become an adult she-wolf with the ability to make more decisions for myself. I have the right to attend pack meetings and be evaluated for specific jobs in the pack as a warrior, c**k, or something else entirely, things that underage wolves aren’t allowed to do. While it’s a shame that young wolves can’t experience these things, there’s a good reason for it. The adult wolves want the young to enjoy their youth before they are thrust into adulthood, where all demands come flying at them at once.

But I can’t help but feel that many young people would benefit from taking on more responsibility. For example, my sister Sophie, who can’t seem to do anything wrong or suffer any consequences for her actions. She could become a better person if she were taught that actions have consequences and that karma exists. It’s a fact that if you don’t respect others, they won’t respect or follow you. Sure, my dad can order the members to respect Sophie, but it wouldn’t be genuine. Respect is something that should be earned, not forced upon others without cause.

Sophie will be a useless leader when she takes over the pack, and I feel nothing but pity for the members. Leaders shouldn’t be selfish and leave the work to others; they should stand with their group to create a better future for everyone. I remember attending a lecture at school about this very topic. The speaker showed two pictures; in the first, a man stood at the top of a mountain and ordered the workers to come to him, even though they were struggling. In the second picture, the leader stood among the workers and helped them up when they fell. The point was that to achieve great results; you need to see beyond your own needs and have compassion for others. Unfortunately, Sophie lacks both of these qualities, and I fear for the pack members who will be under her rule. She will ride them like plow horses, whatever the cost may be.