His Rejected Mate

Hayden Davis. Unknown Location. “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” ― William Shakespeare. This looks like a scene from a movie. An eerily quiet and gloomy sky, a darkened atmosphere under a suffocating glaring moonlight. The sight in front of me feels as if it were out of a crippling nightmare; facing imminent danger, trying to run but your legs refuse to work nor listen to your commands. And it must be a nightmare. I’m being tortured by fate, played by destiny, and laughed at by divinity. I’ve been once again proven that my life isn’t a romance nor a comedy, but a callous tragedy. I stand here and watch, in this vast and empty terrain, my sworn brother fending off my mate. My beautiful mate. Two divine and glamorous beings relentlessly fighting each other to fulfill a prophecy. An inevitable destiny that was written in the stars before all of us were born. This brought back memories; bitter ones from my past. I remember when I was a kid and couldn’t understand what I was instructed to do. How my father forced me to learn to fight, and how my mother avoided me as much as she could. I listened to my father’s commands, feeling even more confused by every word he uttered. “Aren’t I supposed to love my mate?” I asked in a small voice, confused, trembling as I held the small stick I used to practice combat in my hand. I was only six years old then! A kid who hated vegetables, loved sweets, and thought cartoons were real. I was just a kid, yet my pack thought of turning me into a killing machine. I always enjoyed looking at happy couples in my pack, longing for when I’d find my other half; my confidant, my fateful pair; My beautiful and loving mate. I always felt this unfamiliar warmth while thinking about them. I was unloved by my parents, my pack and society. I thought the goddess had created someone just for me, to shower me with love. I was naïve. Life isn’t that simple. But back then, I fought with all my might to make them understand. Hoping I can move them into thinking that I, too, am a person who deserves to have some sort of happiness in life. But the harder I fought, the more painful my punishments were. One day, my father fixed me with those judging cold eyes of his for daring to question his words. I remember how he didn’t spare my frail body nor my innocent mind, smacking me as hard as he could for daring to think of love. I am, in his words, a mistake. My birth brought shame to my pack, and especially to my parents. I was a curse in the making, as they never failed to remind me. My existence meant the return of him; the evil hunter they all dreaded. Till this date, I wonder why they didn’t just kill me? I remember my father’s words when I resisted once and refused to obey him. All that he and the pack were teaching me didn’t make sense to me. They wanted me to fight. And not just anyone, but my mate. “Boy, the thing that’s destined to be your mate isn’t worth living, let alone feeling loved.” With tears in my eyes, I looked down at my feet, even more depressed. My lips trembling, my hands shaking, fatigue possessed my body from all the monotonous drills. The beating I endured that day made me really think I was a mistake. How much I prayed every night, begging Luna to change my destiny. I hated being who I am. And most importantly, I hated the word mate. When I escaped that toxic household, I thought it must be their hatred towards me that made them say what they said. Meeting Derek and his lovely wife, I’ve discovered another meaning to the word mate. I remember how my perspective changed, and how much I longed to meet my own. And when it took so long to find them, believing that my own had died as I couldn’t sense them, I even chose to be one with my best friend. But, right now, dare I say that my parents were right? Watching the suffering and c*****e my mate was leading, I understand now why my parents never wanted me and how much they dreaded my existence. I now understand why they asked me to kill him. A cry coming from my friend’s baby boy had my whole body shiver. The little boy cried for his father from where he nested under a tree. “Stop.” My voice felt trapped down my throat. And only when I saw my friend cornered that I cried. “Stop!” “Stop?!” His beautiful brown eyes stained red, shimmering in what I could only discern as pure evil. It broke my heart to label him as such, failing to meet his glare as he said. “Why stop now? The fun has just begun.” I hate how weak I feel in front of him. I hate how hopeful I am, thinking that he can pull through. I can see it now. I can see how much I fooled myself all this time. I regret all the decisions I took that led to this. I could’ve saved him from this, but I only fueled his anger. I loathe myself for what I did to him. “Please. . . please stop. I don’t want to do this.” “Do what?!” He said, his expression quickly changed. His eyes were sparkling, reddened in fury. I could tell he is hurting, maybe more than I am. This is my fault. I’m the one to blame. “What more can you do?" He asked, and the clear cynical tone of his voice had my heart thud weirdly in my chest. "Wasn’t it enough that you rejected me, after twisting my heart to feel something for you?!” He extended his hands and a force surged through them like a beam of yellow light, hitting Jonathan in the chest. The latter wasn’t paying much attention, trying to protect his son. Hearing my best friend cry in pain and his baby boy wailing by his side, I bellowed. “No! Stop, Michael! Please!” To my utter horror, he just laughed, ignoring me completely as he targeted my friend again. This time the force of the blow sent Jonathan flying towards a tree, falling flat on the ground. Seeing Jonathan’s unconscious body lying there, his son shrieking a few feet away from him as if he knew his father was hurt, a sense of fury engulfed my body, directed only towards myself. I did this. “What do you say, Hayden?” His voice languidly echoed in the woods, resonating in my ears, which drove me to close my eyes. I refused to accept this outcome. I refused to admit nor succumb to the troubling thought that dinged like an obnoxious alarm in my head. “You really think you can win against me and save him?” He let out a dry chuckle when I opened my eyes, finding it hard to breathe. Michael glanced at my motionless friend, then back at me. A hint of sorrow gleamed in his eyes before it soon disappeared, making me question if I really had seen it. The moment of hesitation left me when I saw him near my best friend. Jonathan has no way of countering his attacks by the looks of it. Chris is nowhere to be seen, so it is up to me to save them. I have to kill him. I have to kill my mate.