The Many-Faced Luna

The enticing aroma from the pan drifted upwards, wrapping around me like a warm, fragrant embrace. The delicious breakfast teased my senses, its savory scent of crisp bacon and fluffy eggs hanging in the air, baiting me to indulge. Except none of this was for me. Beside me was an bowl, had some of oatmeal, not full of it. That was my breakfat, and I couldn’t get more. Once upon a time, I tried to get some fruit for myself, which was found by Grace, my stepsister. As a result, she told it to my father, and I suffered the most severe punishment in my life. Technically, my father would never pay attention to me until Grace asked him. Behind me, I heard the voices of my family members, enthusiastically engaged with one another and conveying their cohesion. Nobody noticed as I approached the mahogany dining table. First, I served my father, who barely turned to acknowledge my existence. Leaning into my stepsister's space, he said, "Grace, you've been doing so well in school lately." "Thank you, Father. I strive to represent the Green Forest Pack with pride." She waved her hands at him, playing coy as he enjoyed their boastful banter. The next plate I carefully placed was in front of my stepmother, Martina. As she leaned forward to grab the salt, her darkest brown hair was ropy like straw, nearly dipping into the delicious breakfast. She picked up her fork and knife, motioning to her empty coffee cup. Without a second glance, she hedonistically dove into her meal. Dashing to the percolator, I snatched the metal carafe and skillfully poured the deep brown liquid into her mug. The bitter scent, coupled with its warmth, was a welcoming beverage on a cold, rainy day like today. Not spilling one drop, I filled it to the brim, but she never said a word. I probably shouldn't have left Grace for last. She was my personal heckler, and when she was hungry, her insults were nastier. Carrying the plate over, I cautiously lowered it before her when she snatched it from me. Without a chance to intervene, she picked up the bowl and poured the oatmeal on me. It was so hot that I couldn’t help but scream. Meanwhile, Grace shouted loudly. “Dad, Saphira spills oatmeal again.” It was nonsense. I wanted to refute her, “I don’t do that. It is you.” But nobody cares about that. My father keeps silent, and Martina frowned unhappily, “Not to quibble anymore and fix this as soon as possible. Otherwise, I can only lock you in the basement to reflect. ” Being locked in the basement was the scariest thing to me. Nothing could compare with that. I shut up and rolled off the side of the table, trying to clean the floor. I dropped to my knees and crawled to retrieve the derelict fruit before it stained the ornate rug. Grace's laughter began subtly but only increased in volume as I remained on all fours. "Good doggie," she teased, "Fetch for me, Saphira.” With a clench of my jaw, I tried to ignore her comment and focused on my job. Finally, I finished cleaning floor and left the dining table. Bracing myself on the counter, I breathed deeply, trying to calm down. My roving eyes were drawn to the speckled splotches of varied greens covering the bottom tiles of lime tones, chartreuse, sea foam, and evergreen. My stepmother had chosen the colors of the backsplash to match our–no, their Green Forest Pack namesake. It was a painful reminder that I didn't belong here. Washing my hands freeing my fingers of the gritty sand and fibers from the rug, I watched as it swirled down the stainless steel drain. I felt relieved when the water drowned out Grace's cackling. I turned it full blast under the guise of dishwashing, wishing I could plug my ears. Still, I couldn't spend too much time here. Grace's patience would soon run out, and Father wouldn't appreciate it. Turning the silver handle to the left, I shut the faucet off and resumed my duties. I knew why Grace always made trouble for me. She purposely escalated our conflict physically, whenever my father was around. Instead of correcting her as one would expect, he delighted in my pain. The pleasureful grin that spread across his lined, tanned cheeks cut me to the bone. It was a special gift from her to me, so I could feel more degraded and unloved by my family. My father hated me, and Grace knew it. I kept to myself in the corner as I ate leftover scraps. Once everyone finished, they abandoned their dirty plates for me to collect and wash. I scraped leftover smears of seeds from strawberries and viscous bacon grease into the drain. I felt like a lowly maid, and they treated me like one too. My next job was preparing coffee. It was Martina’s habit, a cup of coffee after breakfast. Of course it was my job because the coffee prepared by other maids was not to her taste. I walked to the living room with coffee in my hand. I hoped Grace was not there because it was only humiliation and trouble she would bring to me. But the Moon Goddess didn’t bless me and her voice came from inside the door, very clearly. “I don’t like Saphira. She is so clumsy and always brings trouble to me.” She said, “Why we have to live with her together?” “Because she is also your dad’s daughter.” It was Martina’s voice, “He couldn’t abandon his own daughter.” Grace frowned, “But she is a humiliation to father and Green Forest. She is even unable to shift to wolf. How can the Alpha of Green Forest have a wasted daughter? If she continues to stay here, all of us will be mocked by other packs.” Martina tried to comfort her daughter, “Don’t worry my sweetheart. Your father also know that, so he has made the decision. After her 19th birthday, he will sell her to another pack. Then we can get a large amount of money, and you don’t need to tolerate her everyday.” It was a good news to Grace, and finally she felt happy, “Fine. So I only needed to endure her for another three months. Moon Goddess blesses her to be sold to the Alpha King. I hear he is cold-blooded and cruel, maybe he will like Saphira... and tears her into thousdans of pieces.” Nobody knew how I felt at that time. I felt chilly, just like a bucket of ice water pouring over my head. Alpha King was the alpha of all the were-wolves, just like king in human world. He was notorious for his cruel and ruthlss. He was said to kill thousands of were-wolves, and no one dared to violate such a tyrant. For a moment, I only had one thought in my mind: I needed to leave here, as far as possible. But after I calmed down, I had to ask myself one question. Where could I go? I didn’t have any saving, and it was difficult to support my own life. If I decided to escape, I should make well preparations first. So before that, I couldn’t piss anyone off. I waited outside for a while and finally sent coffee to Martina. Both my stepmother and sister pretended nothing had happened, and even Grace didn’t cause any trouble to me. Apparently, it was not necessary to torture me since she had known what I would encounter three months later. Then I came back to the kitchen. Grabbing a broom, I heard the front door close. Before I began sweeping, I traipsed over to the nearest window. Covertly parting the blinds, I watched as Grace trekked down the driveway toward her school. My envy was palpable as my eyes snapped to her joyfully hopping like an energetic bunny. I wasn't allowed an education, like her. The anguish stung to my core, and I was forced to face away so as not to witness her freedom. If I dwelled in that part of my heart for too long, it would erode me like a tsunami on an island shore. But right now, only one thing could catch my mind. How could I save enough money? How could I escape from Green Forest? After I'd dusted every lamp, scrubbed each window, swept every crevice, and vacuumed the rugs, it was 11:30 am. Twisting my face with disgust, I wiped my pruned hands on a dry rag. I walked into the kitchen to prepare lunch for my father and stepmother. I'd timed it perfectly so they'd eat at noon on the dot. They hated it when I was late. My father had asked for turkey BLT sandwiches the night before, and Martina liked Italy pasta. I had to serve for both of them, which cost me the whole noon to finish my job. I could tell they liked my recipes even if they wouldn't compliment me. They stuffed their faces with it every day. But they would allow me to go back to my room and have a rest. It was the happiest hours I enjoyed everyday. In the past, entering my one-room dwelling, I would breath a sigh of relief. But this day, I felt like crushed by a huge stone. Could you believe a father would sell her daughter to another pack? It was something my father did to me. I felt lonely in the world. No one loved me, including my relatives. The only one providing me with warm was my little cottage. Even though I cleaned it regularly, my familiar scent hung in the air. It was a sweet mixture of jasmine and cinnamon intermingled with the cedar furniture in the room. Despite this being my prison for years, it felt like home. Only here could I be myself. After tossing my shoes off and pulling on my footies, I threw on my tattered, yet comfortable house coat. Visiting each window, eyeing the horizon, I pulled my velvet burgundy curtains together, so as not to allow even a slit of light to my room. After the interior was concealed from prying eyes, I followed a plank of rotting wood to my bureau rug. Peeling back the fuzzy, frayed corner, I found what I was looking for. Using my fingernails, I wiggled the wood until a block was loose in my hands. Placing it under my bureau, I carefully reached into my secret spot and selected one of my favorite books. The binding was weathered, and the pages were stained yellow, but I would never grow tired of it. These books were my lifeline, an escape into an alternative world where I could disappear and become someone else. Luckily, my family rarely visited, often deeming my home a pigsty. If they found my collection of reading material, I'd be lambasted and robbed of my sacred tomes. I had to make sure they never knew. *** My retreat into the fantasy world of Maverick, a rebellious overweight panther, was interrupted when I heard my phone ring. Only a few people had my number, and most didn't use it. As I glanced down at the caller ID, the picture I’d chosen for Grace flashed up. It was an avatar of a demon. "H-Hello?" I answered, gulping fearfully. "You need to bring my lunch to school. I forgot it." Her voice always sounded sharp and snarky to me. Stunned, I couldn't speak at first. "I can't leave here by the authority of our father," I answered. "You have to bring it to me, or Father will be irate. You don't want that, do you?" I could imagine her tilted face and penetrating stare as she talked down to me just like she always did. "Grace, I–" "Just do what you're told, or I'll tell him that you left on your own." My heart began pounding. Though neither option was ideal, bringing her lunch was the lesser evil. "I'll be there shortly." I carefully placed the book back in my covert spot. After shimmying the wooden block in place like a puzzle piece, I dropped the rug over it and left the shanty. Peering through the villa windows, I scoured each room for my mother and father. Thankfully, they were busy and nowhere in sight. Slipping inside, I grabbed Grace's brown lunch bag then tiptoed out of the villa. I couldn't risk having anyone hear me. Before I was on my way, I found the nearest puddle. It had finally stopped raining, leaving pools of water in each pothole. Crouching, I cupped some mud and generously applied it to my face. It would serve as an ugly disguise so nobody would talk to me. I walked for a few minutes until I found the school. As soon as the fence ended and the schoolyard began, I was accosted by several boys. From behind them, my stepsister parted their sea of bodies and stood directly in front of me. "Here's the maid I told you about, boys. She's all yours." Grace seized the paper bag from my shaking hands and flippantly skipped into the building. She’d done this on purpose, even making sure to leave her lunch so I’d believe her. I jumped as the doors closed with a clang. “Look at her. She’s already scared,” said the boy with the faded high-top hair. "What's wrong with your face?" another asked while tossing his overgrown golden bangs out of his eyes. "Yeah, really. You're so ugly," commented the boy with hazel eyes and a mop-top of light brown locks. They sniffed the air and snickered. "She doesn't even have her wolf," the redhead remarked, leaning forward with a crooked-toothed grin. "Ten bucks says she won't make it even ten seconds with us," said the last one with the looming stature and coal-black hair. Their mischievous laughter echoed against the brick wall of the school like a murder of crows on an autumn evening. I wasn’t sure what the signal was, but suddenly, they all dove in my direction, driving me down to the half-frozen grass. I banged my head on something metal, and it rang out like a gong in my head. Staring up at the huddle of boys, I knew I was in danger. They closed in on me like a pack of hyenas. Without warning, a surge of adrenaline kicked in. To everyone's surprise, I sprang to my feet and windmilled the boys. Various parts of their bodies collided with my knuckles as I spun like a k******e top. "What the?" the redhead retorted, stumbling backward, curling his lip. Each one held onto various parts of their injured, bloody bodies when I heard another voice. "Yes, you should have done this a long time ago." It was Crystal, my wolf.