Rejected at Birth

Grace

My name is Grace, my life has been miserable and has been, as long as I can remember. My mother died in childbirth. My father, in a desperate need to have someone or something to blame for his pain, blamed me. Years had passed, and I was able to get through the day without being noticed if I completed my chores and had food ready whenever he could be bothered to crawl through the door. When I turned sixteen, the abuse got worse. Most days I woke before the sunlight and made sure to have breakfast ready in the microwave and coffee in the pot for whenever he rolled off the couch, before rushing to leave for school. I'm doing my best to avoid all contact with him when possible. Unfortunately for me, I could not stop him from crawling into my room on nights when he was drunk enough to mistake me for my mother.

Turning seventeen for most wolves meant the start of their change and the beginning of their lives. My father rarely spoke to me on occasions when he was sober, unless he punished or insulted me. Often, I felt so alone, not only with my thoughts but in the world I lived in. However, it was preferable to the alternative. When I was little, I used to dream about finding my mate and escaping the life into which I was born. I imagined I would turn seventeen and my wolf would emerge, and she would keep me safe, and I would never have to be afraid again.

Father and I were known as rouges, wolves that roam solitarily and do not have a pack to call family. This was something I had always wanted more than anything. Family was a foreign concept to me, growing up it was always a means of survival and if I did not take care of myself there was no one else in my corner. When my birthday came and went, so with it went my final hope of escape. Thinking I would one day find my mate and be accepted into a pack that loved me and made me feel safe helped me get through the harder parts of my life. Like when little girls dream of being a princess and marrying a knight in shining armor. Everyone at school says that if your wolf does not emerge at seventeen that it is because the moon goddess either didn’t think your body could handle the transformation or worse you were just a reject. Few cases have been heard of late emergence and many believed it to be a myth.

Today was going to be rough, my day had started with waking to my father’s rage. He was sober, a rare occasion of late. My latest mistake was that I had fallen asleep late doing homework and had slept in on accident. This led to me not being prepared with his breakfast or coffee. Coming down from the loft where I slept, I knew right away that he was angry, from the slamming of cupboards that had stirred my sleep. Deep down I knew there was no escaping it, and so began to put the dirty jeans and tank top from yesterday on in a rush and walked down to the kitchen, anticipating what was to come. Although I knew it was coming, it never ceased to surprise me anyway. Walking into the kitchen, I was met with a slap in the face. The impact was enough to knock me to the floor and bring tears to my eyes. Tears that I never let fall in his presence. I may not have the strength to stop it, but I can have the strength to resist giving him the satisfaction of hearing me cry. My father continued to hit me with a barrage of strikes that increased from slaps to punches and eventually settled for kicking me in the stomach. When my father saw, I was not going to scream or react and had at this point managed to put myself into a fetal position of sorts, got bored or felt I had had enough and left me and the house to deal with the mess he had caused.

Alone, I let myself cry. As the tears fell, I thought to myself how much different life might have been if my mother had been there. Would she hate me too? Grabbing the counter, I decided the pity party was over and that I needed to figure out my next move. I could clean the house and eat half a bottle of painkillers and go to school late like I normally do. No one ever batted an eye at the bruises as if they thought my pain was not worth their time. I was just a rogue from the outside of town that did not matter to them. I had another choice, the one I had in the back of my head for some time now. I could run, I used to tell myself I would wait till my wolf emerged so that I would have the strength to keep myself safe. Turning sixteen and not seeing any hopes of that happening with a week until my eighteenth birthday, I had given up hope that she would ever come. I could wait until he went to sleep tonight in a stupor and slip out and be gone before he ever woke. Fear filled me at the thought of getting caught, knowing my father would kill me if he ever caught me trying to leave. I attempted to take a deep breath and access my injuries. Breathing hurt, I could have a cracked rib or two, which would not surprise me, nor would it be a first. My lip was busted, and my face was bruised but overall, this was mild enough that running would be slower but still possible. This moment was the moment I decided my life would change. I was choosing life, and I was leaving this place, I was leaving him, and I was going to be free.