Hellyaa’s Retribution

I woke up with a start, it had been the fifth time this week. I was sweating profusely, my heart pounding, my breathing shallow. I racked my brain in vain trying to remember what I was dreaming about. Up until the week of my birthday I have never had a dream, but now I am plagued each night with dreams that linger and become a part of me.They leave me with a feeling of foreboding and deep rage. A rage I cannot shake. Something in me is screaming, lurking beneath the surface, waiting for something I cannot quite understand. I look around my room and see my track and field trophies gleaming in the sunlight. I cling to the memory of each win as if it will save me from the all-consuming anger. I’m transported back to this spring of my freshman year when, with my last remaining energy, I managed to slip past Alicia Nightgale at the finish line. I was on cloud nine. I remember how rare it was to see my parents beaming with pride. How I was shocked to see any emotion from them at all. In my sixteen years of life they rarely spoke to me, never hugged me, never said I love you. It was an unspoken agreement, that I was to succeed and be the best in all my endeavors, and I was. Top of my class, team captain, best dressed, best in every way. Yet, I was always viewed as an outsider in my pack and in my family. A pretty trophy to look at and be proud of. I was just an object to be left on the shelf. I was to be seen but not heard. With a great sigh, I take a look around my room and, with an effort, I lift myself out of bed. My Alpha parents demanded respect, as their title warranted. My parents were militant and expected me to cook and clean our pack house. Being late to the kitchens meant running laps around our spacious grounds until I passed out, literally! I looked at the bedside table, the clock glaring at 7:10AM. Sh*t I was late again! I threw on my sweats and a tee and sprinted down the marble hallway, down the stone steps and into the kitchen to start breakfast with the cook. Antonia, our cook, eyed me suspiciously. I suddenly felt vulnerable as her eyes appraised my every feature. Her eyes held traces of fear and wonder. I was about to ask her to kindly keep her eyes to herself when she suddenly barked, “Why are you always late! Do you think you're better than the rest of us?” Vanita's eyes were now filled with venom and anger. “Vanita…” I stammered, trying to apologize. I felt my head swimming, trying to understand the emotions I was picking up from the usually boisterous cook. “I haven’t been feeling myself lately,” I tried to explain, but the old cook would not hear anything I had to say. “You're nothing but a little spoiled princess.You think you can just do whatever you want and everyone will just pick up the slack.” She started pacing back and forth and mumbling to herself in a language I did not recognize. Her long braid was trailing behind her. I had always admired the way the old cook conducted business. She was kind but firm. A no-nonsense kind of she wolf. In this moment, though, her features seemed menacing. Her black eyes and hair made her look dangerous. She was squat, but strong. I was definitely afraid to cross her. Vanita stopped her pacing and glanced over in my direction, hissing, “Well lazy girl, get to work! We are already behind and it is all your fault. I will make sure your mother and father are informed.” My heart fell. I wasn’t going to take this lying down. I bit back with my own venom, putting Vanita in her place. “Well, well, well Vanita. Go ahead and tell my parents if you wish. I remember them laughing about the time you got drunk and bothered every pack member you could with your lies. They think you're mad anyway. Since then, we are the only family who would even hire you. You're lucky to be here.” I blinked. This was not like me! I can’t believe I just said that. I turned my eyes towards the cook but she merely smiled, the smile not quite meeting her eyes. Vanita’s tone changed, and something about her words sent shivers down my spine. “You think you know everything, little pet, but you have no idea what's coming. If you only knew,” she whispered. I pleaded with her to explain herself, but the cook was stubborn. We fell into a tense silence as we quickly made breakfast. I thought nothing exciting could happen during breakfast with my parents, but what happened left me confused and puzzled. As I sat there, silently munching on my toast and sipping on my coffee, my parents started discussing plans for tomorrow's festivities for winning the Great War. Tomorrow will mark eighteen years since our clan triumphed in the great war. It was also coincidentally the day of my 18th birthday, and the first time I would shift. I barely knew anything about it other than the history lessons. I looked up from my food and asked mom if she would need my help but never got a reply. It was weird; she would always ask me to help her out with the preparations for any event. My parents wouldn't stop staring at me, and it made me feel uneasy. I tried to brush it off and continued eating my eggs. My father cleared his throat, “Hellyaa,” he finally told me. “It’s about time to head to school.” I looked at the clock over their heads and realized he was right. If I left now, I could still make it on time. Wondering why they were acting so strangely, I took my leave. As I walked towards the door, I heard my mother whisper something to my dad. I turned around to see them both looking at me with tears in their eyes. It confused me even more. What was going on? I leave without asking any questions and head to school. As I reach for the door handle, something catches my eye.I glance towards the mirror and froze. My eyes, which have always been a deep brow, are now a stunning shade of violet. I can hardly believe what I’m seeing. I lean closer, trying to determine whether it is just a trick of the light, but the color remains the same. I’m suddenly filled with curiosity. I’ve always felt that I was different from my fellow pack members. My parents were darker in complexion. Their features were angular, harsh compared to the soft lines of my face. Their eyes and hair are jet black. Their faces are devoid of any blemishes, while mine has a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of my nose. I had always wondered why I was so different and why I didn't look like them. I can help but wonder what could have caused my transformation. As I open the door, the sunshine streams down on me, illuminating the ripples in my auburn hair. The hours spent running and training for track and field have given me a lean but muscular physique. My skin is now golden and glowing from all my time outdoors. I feel a surge of power. I’ve never considered myself pretty, but at this moment, I feel like a work of art. I can't help but stare at my reflection, taking in all the changes that have occurred before closing the door and stepping into the last day of my high school career.