Bite of a werewolf

Chapter one I was six years old when my mother tired turning me into a werewolf. I tried my best to resist, but it was so hard for me to. It was only after she had turned me that I finally accepted that I would have to become what I am now. I didn't mind as much because being a werewolf wasn’t too bad, I could do all the things normal people could and I would never lose myself in the process. However… that did leave a few problems. My father hated werewolves and he was afraid of what his daughter might become, he thought if I could avoid becoming one of those monsters then he might feel better about himself. And yet… how do you tell your child “I’m going to turn you into one of them,” even if you wanted to? He probably felt guilty enough just knowing that his little girl was part of their kind of world. So no matter what happens next, you have to keep yourself together and make sure he does not see how terrified you are of being what you are, but more importantly how scared you are of losing yourself. That’s why on the last full moon, after everyone had gotten home from work, he asked me to go upstairs with him and we would talk. He explained everything he knew about werewolves and they all sounded pretty similar. But, something still bothered him; he said that he didn’t think that any of these werewolves that lived around us, were really like those legends that our townspeople made up. They were very real, at least the way he saw it. There were actually werewolves, they went out and killed other wolves to survive, he told me that there were packs that hunted humans down and slaughtered them. He also said that some of them could be very dangerous, especially since many were older than him, maybe a hundred or two years old at the oldest. I didn’t know that wolves could live that long, but the stories did scare me. I didn’t want to ever find out what it is like to kill someone who isn’t an animal. As much as he tried to explain things to me, the way I viewed the wolves did not change at all. The fact that they existed, made them frightening. I couldn’t help it; whenever I heard a wolf cry out I would shiver and hide under my bedsheets. Every time someone mentioned a werewolf in front of me I would panic, trying desperately to pretend that I didn’t hear anything. It became easier over time though, once the fear was completely gone, I began to grow more used to it. I learned to look past it instead of letting it consume me. But what happened to the ones that were born like me? When I first got turned I spent days in agony until I figured out which bloodline I came from. The problem was getting to them and having a chance at making sure they stayed human. For months it took me a long time to figure out where they lived and what sort of life they led. Then one day my father took me hunting. We ended up killing three of the pack members and although it wasn't easy, it seemed like I was finally starting to understand. That was when my mother decided to try and turn me. At that point I realized that it hadn't been her fault. She'd wanted to protect me, even if it meant taking away my choice. I could see the pain and guilt etched onto her face when she realized what she had done, but I forgave her. After all, she had done nothing wrong. I was the one that had let my anger blind me. Now I had to fix whatever was broken inside me, whether she was willing or not. Once again, my mother found herself alone. In the end, however, she chose to stay. Not only did she want to help me learn how to control my powers, but she thought that by staying close to me she could eventually find a cure. She believed that if she could get close to me, she could help me heal. I guess she was right, but I don't think she expected me to turn into a monster. For weeks I fought with myself on the decision. I knew deep down that I wanted to live, but deep down I wasn't ready to be fully human. The idea of becoming an actual predator sickened me; but what else could I do? How else could I prove that I was worthy of being part human? So, I ran. I hid in the forest most nights, watching and waiting for anyone to come looking for me. I waited for the sun to set before changing back and walking into the city. I kept my eyes peeled the entire way, searching for anything that resembled a pack. Unfortunately for me, I always ended up finding nothing. The only thing I managed to pick up was an old book that had belonged to one of the older boys in the tribe, telling me that they once lived in a place called San Francisco. It was there, that is where they lived and if they were true to their traditions, the pack members would eventually hunt the vampires and destroy them. It's not likely that I will encounter this vampire hunter group anytime soon, but that doesn't mean that they won't show up someday. With every passing day, I grew more worried. Eventually, the worry became fear and eventually, fear turned to anger. I wanted revenge! After all those years of hiding from monsters, I finally found them, the reason for all of the pain that I had gone through. And the only way to get my vengeance was to join one of those damn wolf packs. If I could find a group like that, a community that accepted vampires with open arms, I could fight back against them, maybe I could even save my family.