This is change to Love

Elizabeth's POV Today, as the sun's rays penetrated the window and grazed my face, I arose from slumber. While it is an occasion of significance, unlike the majority, I do not anticipate it eagerly. This very day marks Zack's return to the abode that we once shared. My lack of enthusiasm stems from the fact that Zack, although technically my former companion, had spurned me upon discovering our fated connection. Despite his consistent mistreatment and being the primary source of my torment, I held onto a glimmer of hope that perhaps, at long last, I would find solace and escape this cycle of abuse. Such hopes were misguided. In reality, the mistreatment has only intensified. Fortunately, my apathy towards him prevents me from developing any futile attachment, for I doubt I would possess the resilience to endure. While I cannot deny that the rejection stung, its impact was relatively bearable. Moreover, unlike the unfortunate few rejected werewolves, my wolf spirit remains unharmed. Engaging in my daily routine, I diligently ensure that the pack house is clean and all the chores are taken care of. Additionally, I am responsible for preparing everything necessary for Zack's upcoming celebration, as he is finally assuming the role of alpha for the Crescent Falls pack. Following the completion of these preparations, I begin the task of cooking dinner for the pack. While in the process of preparing the meal, a barrage of questions that have haunted me throughout my entire existence resurfaces. Why is it me? What is the reason behind my parents' disdain for me? Why does my pack hold such animosity towards me? And why was I rejected by my mate, the one person who should love me unconditionally? To be honest, I'm not surprised by Zack Daniels' rejection. Growing up, he consistently predicted that my mate would reject me, insisting that no one would ever genuinely care for me. It's surreal to think that in my younger years, I believed mates to be a source of pure bliss. I naively bought into the notion that they would bring nothing but happiness. However, I shouldn't be astonished, as nothing in my life has unfolded as it should have. My parents exhibit no love towards me, although it seems that they possess an affection solely for themselves. I have been rejected by my mate, an occurrence rarely witnessed in the werewolf community. The only reason I endure this existence is my older brother, Jake. Ever since we were young, Jake has taken on the role of caretaker, treating me with the nurturing and protection befitting an older brother. He is fiercely defensive of me, assisting me whenever he is not preoccupied, secretly providing me with sustenance and standing up to those who try to torment me. Oh, how I yearn to live with him, away from the confines of the pack house. Sadly, Zack has forbidden such an arrangement. I can still vividly recall the night from my youth when I attempted to escape to Jake's house, seeking refuge from the tormentors. The punishment I received that night left scars, both physical and emotional, etched into my memory. The only solace in my existence lies with my wolf companion, Annabel. She serves as a combination of older sister, mother figure, and friend, akin to my brother. Besides Jake, Annabel is the sole individual, or rather, creature, with whom I exchange conversation. I am eternally grateful to have her as my wolf. I have heard tales of the tumultuous relationship between the human and wolf aspects, resulting in madness and eventual demise. "Lizzy, hurry, someone is approaching," Annabel warns urgently. Right before the commotion of a group of people entering the dining room reaches my ears, I manage to complete all my tasks. Seeing my peers laughing together, I can't help but feel a pang of longing in my heart, as I know I'll never experience such camaraderie. Zack sneers at me, questioning why I'm still there. With a barely audible voice, I mutter, "I was just ensuring everything was prepared for your homecoming celebration." "You should leave," Zack asserts, his eyes filled with disdain. "Your presence is making everyone uncomfortable." Without hesitation, I obediently say, "Yes, alpha," and hastily depart. As I flee, laughter echoes around me, fueling my fear. I tremble, recalling the last time I failed to leave a room fast enough. He nearly beat me to death, while my fellow pack members either joined in or merely watched and laughed. Seeking refuge, I sprint to my "room" and shut the door behind me. In reality, the attic serves as my living space, its "bed" consisting of two sheets and a solitary pillow. For as long as I can remember, my parents deemed it unacceptable for me to sleep under the same roof as them. The pack house allegedly lacked ample room, thus sentencing me to this attic existence. Faint music drifts up from downstairs, indicating that the festivities have begun. Taking precautions, I secure my door and barricade it with a dresser. Fatigue washes over me as I recall the near assault I experienced at one of the pack parties due to my negligence in locking and barricading the door. Swiftly changing my worn clothes, I proceed to braid my hair. Then, brushing my teeth, I strive to drown out the sounds emanating from below. Gazing through the modest window of my room, I spot a shooting star. During my younger years, I used to make wishes for a better life, but I have since lost hope, recognizing that such improvement will forever elude me. "Cheer up," Annabel consoles me. "How can I 'cheer up' when my life has been a series of hardships since the day I was born?" I remark, often bewildered by her incessant optimism. "You have reasons to find happiness, child, and soon enough, you will discover them," she assures. "Why can't I know them now?" I inquire. Amused, she chuckles before retreating to the recesses of my mind. I acknowledge that my circumstances could be worse, yet occasionally, it feels as though I am despised by the moon goddess herself. "That's not true, Lizzy. The moon goddess loves all her children," my wolf interjects. Without deigning to answer, I crawl into my makeshift "bed" and drift into slumber.