Becoming Wolf

I hated my life. I picked up the knife and placed it against the smooth ivory skin of my wrist. I could end it now and no one would care. I have no friends. I have average grades in school. No mother, and a father who’s barely around. Hell, he’d probably love it if I was dead, then he could sell all of my stuff for beer money. With that thought, I pressed the blade into my skin, then stopped. No. I would live, just to spite the sick bastard. Throwing the knife to the floor, I left the bathroom and wandered around the house. Father wasn’t here. What a surprise. He must have gone out again. Probably to his favorite bar, the Bronze Boot. Since mom died last year, all he does is drink. And hit me. According to him, everything is my fault. Mom died, my fault. He lost his job, my fault. He has no more money for booze. You guessed it, my fault. I turned off all the lights in the house and I holed up in my room, hoping that he would pass out as soon as he got home.

Sitting on my bed, I pulled out my notebook and began to work on another one of my drawings. The walls of my room were covered in my drawings of wolves. Most of them were just black and white pencil sketches, with an occasional splash of color, normally red. My latest was a dark colored wolf standing over a misshapen heap on the ground. Red blood pooled beneath it and flecked the wolf's muzzle. The wolf's moon colored eyes broke through the blackness. Just as I finished the final touches on the wolf's eyes, a loud crash broke through the silence. Cusswords and more loud thuds followed. Father was home. I held my breath and hoped that he would be so drunk that he would forget that I was here.

"Luna!" he yelled. His harsh voice sounded throughout the house. I cringed and quickly put my drawing in a safe place and my tools away. In the past, he's torn my drawings and broken my tools in his drunken rage. Once everything was safe, I silently hide behind my bed. Footsteps pounded down the hall. His heavy steps stopped outside my bedroom door, but then continued. I breathed a small sigh of relief. Suddenly my door burst open and hung off a single hinge.

"Where are you Luna," he slurred sweetly, trying to talk my out of my hiding place. "I know you're in here." Then once his short fuse expired, "Where are you, you stupid bitch!" I tried to make myself as small as possible as he stepped closer to the bed. With surprising coordination for a drunk man, he pounced on my bed and with his face in mine he yelled, "Boo!" I sprang up and out towards an open space and tried to make a run for the door. Instead, I ran straight in to him. "Gotcha!" I swung my tiny fist as hard as I could into his face. This angered him greatly. While gripping onto my shoulder with one hand, he drove his fist into my stomach, forcing my lungs to empty themselves. I dropped like a rock, gasping for air. Seeing the opportunity, he proceeded to kick me. "Where's the money bitch?" Kick. "Huh?" Kick. "Where's." Kick. "My." Kick. "Money?" Kick, kick.

"I don't know," I gasped. "Probably spent it all on booze, again" Another kick, this one sharp enough to cut my forehead.

"Shit, shit, shit!" he swore. He stopped kicking and began to pace in front of me. Mumbling to himself, he would stop every now a then to deliver a swift kick. During his mumbling, I slowly dragged my sore, bruised body away from him and tried to get up. Once his drunken brain realized what I was doing, he kicked me so hard that I flew across the room. My body hit the wall with a solid crack! Thinking I was down and out, my father tore through my room, looking for money. He came across my drawings and flung them around the room, thinking I had hidden some money beneath them. My wolves were scattered across the room, staring at me with their predatory eyes. If only I was a wolf, then I could be rid of my bastard of a father once and for all.

Coming up empty in his search, my father turned his attention towards me. I was standing up now, though the room was spinning around me, I was prepared to fight him. Yes, it was probably a death wish, but maybe, with a bit of luck, I would come out of this alive.

With a roar of anger, he charged across the room and swung at me. I dodged and felt the air brush a stand of hair away as his fist hit the wall behind me. I swung my leg out and tripped him. As I made a dash towards the door, he grabbed my foot and pulled me down. Climbing on top of me, he proceeded to slam his fist into my face, repeatedly. Unable to move, I thought about my wolves and how they would never be in this kind of a position. They would be the ones in charge, tearing him to shreds, blood spattering their coats and the area around them. As his fists continued to assault my body, the thoughts of my wolves began to block out the pain. Shadows began to hinder my vision and my world was plunged into darkness.

Snarls tore through the air. Followed by screams. Then flashes of fur, blood and teeth. This is what played through my mind as the haze slowly lifted from my eyes. Struggling to my feet, I noticed a strange smell that hung in the air, like iron, or copper. Looking around my room, I saw a dark substance splattered everywhere. Blood. A dark heap in the corner caught my eye next. Padding over to it in painful, labored steps, I was confused as to what it was. The smell of blood was thicker here, along with another scent. Death. Spots of paleness stood out against the darkness of the bloodied heap. When I was nearly upon it, I realized it was a body. Although it was horribly maimed, I recognized it as my father. A flicker of something pale drew my attention away. It was the drawing of the wolf I had done earlier. Its pale moon eyes seemed to go right through me. Another flicker. I whipped my head to the front and froze with shock. In front of me was my mirror. In the reflection was a dark, blood-flecked wolf, standing over a bloody heap. This could not be. It was like my drawing only on a larger scale. I went to touch it, and noticed the front paw mirrored my actions. What the... I moved again. Same thing. I looked down. I had paws. I turned to look at my body. I was a wolf. "This can't be happening," I said to myself, but instead of spoken words, it came out as whuffs. I sneezed in disbelief.

Sirens screamed in my ears. I realized that the neighbors must have heard the screams and snarls and called the local law enforcement. Knowing that bad things were going to happen if I stayed, I went to leave my room. No sooner had I stepped foot out into the hallway, voices sounded near the door. With the ideal exit out of the question, I started to think of other ways out. There was the window in my bedroom. It faced the backyard and was only five feet from the ground. It was do-able. The only iffy thing was the glass window. I wouldn't be able to open it with paws. As the voices drew closer, it became my only option. With a running start, I leapt through the window, shattering the glass and landed on the grass below. Shards of glass dug into my tender paws and cut into my skin. Footsteps thudded down the hall, not wanting to be there when they found the source of the noise, I ran.