Christian
“Mom, am I a monster?”
I know this scene, and I know that I’m dreaming. This is but an old memory, yet I can’t look away. Neither can I avoid hearing the answer my mom gives me.
“You are,” she says in a low tone. “You are a monster, Christian. That’s why you can never take off your necklace, okay? Your true form must remain a secret, or your own future pack will turn against you.”
I want to tell my mom that she is wrong and that I’m not the monster she believes me to be, but I can’t. Not when the scene changes and I see a faceless smile, just a shard of the memory I’ve suppressed for years.
“Why do you always wear that necklace?”
No.
I scream in agony at the memory while fighting like hell not to see what comes next. I’m in pure agony and—
“CHRISTIAN?!”
I gasp when I’m s
