006
963 Words
Stephanie's POV:
Her gaze softened, but there was steel behind her words. “I didn’t abandon you, Stephanie. I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me?” I scoffed. “Protect me from what?”
“From yourself,” she said, her voice trembling. “From what you are. From your kind.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine. I frowned, confusion tightening my chest. “What are you talking about? What do you mean, protect me from myself? What’s my kind?”
“You’re not human, Stephanie,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re a werewolf. You got it from your late father.”
Her words hung in the air, heavy and absurd. And then, I laughed. It wasn’t just a chuckle—it was a full, uncontrollable burst of laughter. “You’re joking, right?” I said through my laughter. “Seriously, Mom. Since when are you an author? Is this your new fantasy novel?”
But as I looked around, I realized no one else was laughing. Their faces were solemn, their expressions grave. My amusement faded as the weight of their silence pressed down on me.
“She’s telling the truth,” the man standing beside my mother said, his deep voice cutting through the tension.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “And who the hell are you?”
“Stephanie!” my mother scolded.
“It’s fine, darling,” the man said, his calm tone only irritating me further. “Teenagers can be… impulsive.” He stepped forward, extending his hand toward me. “I’m Peterson Salvador. Your mother’s husband.”
My eyes flicked to his hand, then back to his face, which was plastered with an annoyingly calm smile. I debated ignoring him, but an idea sparked in my mind.
Being rebellious wouldn’t help me here. These people were clearly crazy. If I wanted to escape from here, I would need to play along with them. That way, their guard would be down, and I would be able to make a move.
So I smiled, taking his hand in mine. “I’m so sorry for being rude,” I said sweetly. “I didn’t know you were my stepfather. Thank you for taking care of my mother.”
To my satisfaction, my mother’s face twisted in surprise, though the brothers remained as unreadable as ever. I didn’t care about them. My focus was on gaining Peterson’s and my mother’s trust.
“So,” I said, my voice light and curious. “You’re telling me werewolves are real? And that I’m one of them?”
My mother nodded. “You are.”
“Wow,” I said, feigning awe. “That’s… incredible. So, am I the only werewolf in existence?”
Peterson chuckled. “Oh, no, dear,” he said. “This entire town is filled with werewolves. Everyone in this room is a werewolf except your mother, of course. She’s a witch.”
A witch? I nearly laughed again, but I swallowed the urge. I needed them to believe I was buying into this madness. If I played my cards right, I would be out of this house as soon as possible.
“So does that make me a werewitch?” I questioned, and my mom nodded. Of course, she would agree. It takes another crazy person to understand a crazy person. I couldn't believe I actually expected anything different from her.
“So, I'm like Bonnie Bennett,” I said with a fake smile.
“More like Hope Mikaleson,” she replied, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Just without the vampire part.”
I let out a sarcastic laugh and lifted my hand dramatically and waved it in her direction. “Abracadabra,” I said, my tone dripping with faux excitement.
My mother and Peterson burst into laughter, their genuine amusement filling the room.
“It doesn't work that way, dear. You still have a lot to learn, but it would be easier for you since you're in this town now surrounded by people like you,” my mother said to me.
I crossed my arms. “So how does everyone being present contribute to this explanation?” I asked out of curiosity.
My mother straightened in her seat, her expression growing more composed. “I thought you wouldn't believe me,” she admitted.
“They are proof that werewolves exist. Shifting into their forms would have convinced you if you doubted, but since you believed, there's no need for them to do that again. You have heard enough for today.” She had a relieved look on her face.
I nodded in agreement. There's nothing I would want more right now than my space. Listening to her spill rubbish and everyone in the room supporting her in this only made my head spin.
“If that's all, I'll be in my room,” I said, pushing my chair back and rising to my feet.
“Thank you, Stephanie,” my mother said softly, her eyes holding an unfamiliar warmth. She was sounding so sincere, and something in me believed her.
“For what?”
“For giving me a chance to explain myself. You don't know how much this means to me that you're beginning to trust me, so thank you.” She replied.
I hesitated for just a moment before forcing a small smile. Without another word, I turned and walked out of the dining room.
I didn't want to spend another day in this house because if I did, I might start believing them, making me crazy too. I needed to be out of here as soon as possible so my mental health would remain intact.
I'm making my move tonight.
- Writer
