His ACADEMY’S LUNA

JASMINE : : I hate werewolves. All my life I’ve been trained to hunt and kill them, to purge their filthy existence on the surface of the earth. But my life was turned upside down when I became one. Became the one thing I hated the most. “Listen to me, Jasmine.” Her voice slipped into my ears, muffled and urgent. “No one can ever find out you’re a hunter. You have to hide it.” My mother’s voice came in again. But it sounded distant, like she was speaking to me from the shore while I was deep underneath water. I felt hands on my skin. Too rough, too large to be my mother’s. My heart hammered. I was being carried. I tried to open my eyes, but I couldn’t. I tried to move but I couldn’t. Panic surged as I felt disconnected from my body—from reality. My mother’s voice came in again, quieter. “I’m handing you over to your father, he’ll take care of you.” My father? No. That’s impossible. My father had died before I was born. She’d always told me that. He died during a hunt. I tried to speak. To ask her to explain herself, but my lips wouldn’t move. Think, think, I told myself as I tried to remember how I entered this state. It was two days ago. Everything was normal. I’d returned from my hunting training and was supposed to go for my first hunt. My mother and I were celebrating when a prickling heat came, and claws drew my fingers. I still remember the agonizing pain and the sound of my bones cracking. And beneath the full moon that I was supposed to have my first kill, I had my first shift, becoming the very thing I was supposed to kill. My mother had kept me in the basement and said she was going to get groceries. When she returned, she made dinner. She poured me a drink. Then…darkness. The low roar of the car engine snapped me back to the present. When I felt the leather brushing against my skin, my pulse pounded in my throat. She was sending me away. Did she think I was a monster like those things she has haunted? My stomach twisted “I love you, Jasmine.” My mother’s cracked voice drew me back to the present. “I love you. I love you.” She repeated many times, her voice breaking more each time. Drops of water. No. Tears—water wasn’t this warm—fell on my face. I didn't know how long I was in this haze. Minutes. Maybe hours. All I knew was that I could hear the honking of the cars. When the quietness of my town was replaced by the bustling sound of a lively city, the sound of a door opening, the heavy thuds of the feet of my supposed father climbing up the stairs. And then my body hit the mattress. My eyes snapped open. I could finally see his face. The dark brown hair and green eyes, shades that looked exactly like mine. I had to move fast, like I had been taught, to grab something and protect myself. But when I did move. My muscles mocked me and all I could manage was to sit upright. “Who’re you?” My voice is a rasp. “Your father.” “That’s not true. My father’s dead.” I tipped my chin. Never cower before a wolf; they could sense your fear. Instinctively, I remembered my training. I knew who he was. I could feel it. But my brain refused to accept it. I had celebrated my nineteen birthday thinking he was dead. Before I could say anymore, he held up his phone. On his screen was my mother, her face pale, her eyes red like they were bleeding. “Jasmine, I’m so sorry. But this is for the best. This place isn’t safe for you. Stay with your father, he's going to protect you. Please don’t hate me and never forget that I love you.” My insides clenched, and my breath shuddered. “Liar. She’s lying.” My grip on the phone tightened. “You’re lying. Take me back. Take me back home.” “This is your home now,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “You can’t go back. Those people will kill you…” Those people? They’re my people. That’s my home. Not here. My fist tightened harder. “I’m not like you,” I spat, my voice cracking as it rose. “Werewolves are monsters. Abomination. Curse of nature.” Every word is painful at the back of my throat. So painful that I didn’t realize the prickling heat rising, the claws pushing from my fingertips. “Look at you.” He stepped aside. There I was, standing before a full-length mirror. My eyes—a glaring yellow, claws and fangs out. My insides coiled with disgust, and I wanted to claw my face. Wanted to pull out the claws. I wanted to be human again. Something small, alive, inside me, whimpered. I felt her presence again, soft and sorrowful. ‘We’re not monsters,’ it whined. “Feel it?” His voice was calm. “That’s your wolf.” I pulled at my hair. “Get out!” I shouted at the wolf. “Get out of me.” It recoiled like a wounded animal. Maybe if I get it out, I’ll be human again. I’ll be able to live with my mother. I’ll be able to be with my friends. Tears trickled down my face, hot like acid, down my face. Silence stretched as he stared at me, then he said, “Dinner is ready, come down to eat.” When he got to the door, he glanced over his shoulder. “I don’t know what they taught you, but we are not monsters. We laugh, we cry, we are just as humane as humans are.” His voice softened. “You’re not a monster.” The door clicked shut behind me. “I’m not a monster,” I said to myself, “I was as humane as humans are.” But humans didn’t have claws. Didn’t have fangs. Who was I kidding? A monster is all I’ll ever be. Finally, I crashed to the floor. As more and more tears flooded down my face, my chin trembled. As I wallowed in my suffering, choking on my sobs, a shadow materialized under the cracks of the door. The wolf in me felt it first. It stiffened, its furs raising straight. Hunters were trained to pick up on strong wolves. But what I felt now was raw fear—primal—slithering down my spine. Slow and burning. She hates us, the wolf whispered. It was right. I could feel the hatred, the intention to rip me apart. Did she know who I was? My heart thundered, my wolf whimpered. The doorknob rattled and slowly it began to turn.