The forbidden twins

It was a with a big sigh of relief and a pang of guilt at that relief I got home and collapsed on the sofa. The 6 week long school summer holiday is finally over and the boys are dropped off. Oh how embarrassed they were at me walking them to school at 15 but if only they knew it was for their protection. They stood out from the crowd not only for being identical twins of 6ft tall at only 15 but with there flame red hair and perfect skin they seldom went anywhere unnoticed. They hated their hair but they didn’t suffer bullies. Kids tried when they were younger around 11 and first starting secondary school but it didn’t last long. Sky had a quick temper he broke the glasses of one bully and ripped the others shirt. River had a more diplomatic approach to things but seldom got to use those skills with sky around. I didn’t condone the violence and accepted the schools temporary suspension but at least the bullying was nipped in the bud there and then. I had every intention of blitzing the house while I was alone. Getting everything clean and In order so maybe tomorrow I could finally go out alone without the boys in tow and their constant complaints of boredom. The house was a mess with clothes and dirty dishes everywhere. I hadn’t cleaned in days I just couldn’t be bothered as I knew I would have today to get it all done. I hadn’t been sleeping well and my wolf was desperate for a run, agitated and pent up. The boys had refused to help me, even to pick up their own belongings from what ever surface had become their new favourite dumping ground. Of course I try to rein them in and make them do chores but the arguments are just too much and I cannot deal with them anymore. I don’t know if I’ve become lazy or just worn out from it all but its easier and quicker to just do it myself. I know I’m not helping myself in the long run and I should make them clear up after them selves but these days I simply don’t have the energy for the confrontation and need to reserve my strength for if the time should come it’s needed. I love my boys dearly but my lord do they make me crazy! The constant pleas for food and money that I simply do not have, the moans of boredom and the bickering. I wish I could afford more day trips, had more money to entertain them and buy them nice things but without holding down a proper job and the cost of living constantly rising we simply have to make do. I wish they understood and stopped looking at me like a boring old fart that does nothing but moan and nag. I used to be fun once, I had friends and hobbies, I laughed and made others laugh but now I was just a mum, a boring single mum and that’s how it has to be to keep them safe. It’s hard going it alone, being the only one for them to turn to so I know I will always get the brunt of their venting. I sometimes wonder if running away was the right choice, if I had stayed they would have playmates, we would have money and they would not be living in this hovel. They could have had a better education not just what ever current drivel the humans are teaching. Holding back my laughter at how ludicrous it when they told me about their days. The packs education system was just so much different, it’s relevant to the here and now teaching useful skills. Teaching our current hierarchy and any relevant history to that. I mean why do the boys need to know about the tudors or how to measure the inside corner of a triangle anyway? However if I had stayed there was every chance we would all be dead now. If only I hadn’t met them, if only I hadn’t written that stupid diary, come to think of it this one probably isn’t such a great idea either but at least this one is harder to find. Anyway I did do some cleaning, I pottered about sweeping the floors and rounding up the boys usual junk. I put their stuff in their bedroom doorways which I hoped would force them to put it away if they wanted to get into their rooms. The problem is the silence was too distracting, lonely even. I wasn’t meant to be alone I was born to be in a pack. Surrounded by the hustle and bustle of a busy house. People to help out and adult conversations to be had. The pain of this empty ness burnt in my neck, my mark felt like it was on fire, I knew as long as he was alive I could control it, I could draw strength from our bond which also gave me the comfort of knowing he was still out their, they hadn’t found him. The pain is bearable but I would need to retouch the makeup hiding my mark, rubbing it has ruined my cover up job. I wish i could just get it tattooed over but unfortunately the tattoo wouldn’t stay longer then a few weeks so what was the point. I sat and day dreamed for what seamed like hours, thinking of……him, what kind of father he would be? would the boys be easier to bring to heel when they fought? What did he look like now? But those thoughts always came with the grief of loosing his brother my second mate, his twin. If I close my eyes I can still see the light leaving his eyes, that memory will be forever etched in my memory only the bond with my surviving mate saved me the madness that came to our kind from loosing a mate. With there birthday only a month away I’m scared, I need to tell the boys the truth about who they are and where they come from but how? How do I tell them their dad didn’t die in a car accident he’s still out there? How do I tell them they had two fathers? have an entire family, a pack that they can never be a part of? How the hell do I tell my boys their wolves that they don’t even know about yet have a death penalty hanging over them for a crime myself and there fathers committed. I feel like the worst mother in the world and all I want right now is him, my mate.