Misfortune of Tears

I woke up and sat on my bed as I stretched my arms widely. I smiled. Today is my 18th birthday. I wanted to celebrate this day with Alpha Henderson, and I am so excited to meet my wolf too—because during their 18th birthday, the werewolves usher in their wolves.

And now that I think of it, I just remembered that today is the Annual Coming-of-Age Ceremony, where the pack celebrates the 18-year-old werewolves who are coming of age, like me. I sighed. Alpha Henderson was surely busy preparing for the annual event.

Alpha Henderson is my boyfriend of two years, and until now, our relationship is getting even stronger. I stood up and began to prepare for the day when I suddenly heard heavy footsteps coming towards my room. I looked at the door just as it banged open, revealing my angry sister.

"What's wrong?" I softly asked.

But she seemed not to hear me as she rushed toward me and slapped my cheek so hard.

"What's wrong? How dare you ask that! You destroyed my dress!" she exclaimed, showing her pink casual attire that had a hole on the lower left side.

My forehead creased in confusion as I held my reddened cheek.

"I didn't do that, it was—" I wasn’t finished responding when I received another slap from her.

"Don’t you dare give me some fucking lies, Adriah. I know you did it! You were so jealous that I got to have a beautiful dress, and you fucking destroyed it!" she yelled with anger. I heard running footsteps coming closer.

When I looked at my sister Jairah, she once again advanced toward me for a strong punch. But my instinct suddenly kicked in, and I ducked down in defense, which made her fall back and hit her head on the closet.

I heard a gasp coming from the door. "Jairah!" Mom exclaimed in worry.

I turned around to see Jairah lying unconscious on the floor. I was surprised, but fear dominated me as I froze in place. Dad and Mom rushed towards my sister, and Dad immediately carried her out of the room—surely to treat her. I wonder... would they be like this if it had happened to me?

Mom stayed behind. She faced me with anger blazing in her eyes, and my heart beat too fast in fear. "M-mom, it wasn't m-my fault. I-it was an a-accident," I stuttered.

"You devil!" she exclaimed and slapped me with the back of her hand so hard that I flew to the wall.

As my back hit the wall, she rushed to me and gripped my hair.

"Mom, please. I didn’t do it! She tried to punch me, b-but I dodged it and s-she bumped into the closet," I reasoned while crying, but she seemed deaf to my plea.

"Do not dare speak to me, you ungrateful child!" she said and dragged me by my hair. I followed because my head hurt too much—she gripped it so tightly.

I kept crying, "Please, Mom, I’m sorry."

I shouldn’t have dodged it. I should’ve accepted her punches. I didn’t know she would faint from bumping into my closet. I didn’t even rip Jairah’s clothes. From the looks of it, it was a mouse.

However, nobody cares about me. No one listens to me. We reached the bathroom, and I saw a drum of water.

Oh no.

"Mom, no please. I didn’t really do it," I pleaded.

"Bitch! Are you telling me that she did it alone!? You know, you should never have existed!" she said and drowned my head into the water.

But I had already taken a deep breath before she did it and held it in, trying to last underwater for minutes.

For an uncountable number of times, she drowned my head, and I was already losing my breath. I couldn’t last much longer. I tried to stand up several times, but her hand was so strong, gripping my head, that I didn’t have the strength to fight back. Now, I was losing my energy.

She raised my head, and instead of pleading once more, I took a very deep breath, catching all the air I had lost.

"You bitch! All you bring is misfortune to my family!" she exclaimed once again and drowned my head once more.

I had already anticipated that she wouldn’t stop until she was satisfied.

I am also a part of her family. I am also her daughter. Why does it seem like she’s saying I’m not? Why do they act like I’m not their family, but their slave?

Am I really their daughter? Why do they have to hurt me for something I didn’t do? Am I nothing to them?

Mom kept drowning me until I weakened and lost all strength. She stopped and dragged me again by the hair, but I was too weak to resist or even care where she was taking me. I had no strength left to plead. I was too weak to even open my mouth and speak for myself.

I could only speak for myself because I had no one on my side—but now even I couldn’t speak. Hell, she wouldn’t even listen, so why should I waste what little strength I had left speaking to someone deaf to my cries?

We reached the basement door. I weakly looked at it as it opened.

Guess I’ll be celebrating my birthday here again.

When the door was fully opened, Mom kicked me, and because I was so weak, I fell to the ground. She closed the door, and I remained lying there. I just wanted to get back the strength I had lost.

Why? Why did this happen to me? I didn’t do anything wrong.

Maybe I sinned in my previous life and the Moon Goddess is punishing me.

All I did was love my family. I served them with my life, but they didn’t seem to see it. They love Jairah, who does nothing but demand luxury. I never asked my parents for anything—except love. Is it even too hard to give the love I wanted?

The pain was too much. My body throbbed, and my mind slowly faded into unconsciousness. Darkness swallowed me whole as I closed my eyes, too weak to cry anymore... then darkness embraced me.

When I opened my eyes... I don't recognize the place anymore.

There was nothing but thick mist, silver and cold, curling around my bare feet as I stood in a forest I didn’t recognize. The moon glowed fiercely above me, larger than I had ever seen it.

I turned slowly, heart racing, when I felt it... a presence.

Strong. Commanding... and watching.

And then, I saw him.

A tall silhouette stood between the trees. I couldn’t see his face, but his presence made my knees weak. Power radiated from him like heat from a flame. He didn’t move, didn’t speak... but I felt drawn to him.

He was watching me. Not with cruelty, not with judgment... but something else. Something deeper.

I took a step forward, confused, captivated.

"Who are you...?" I whispered into the dream.

He didn’t answer. But even in the silence, I felt it… like he was waiting for me… like he had always been waiting.

And then, I woke up. Alone, in the cold basement. The warmth of the dream quickly vanished, replaced again by the aching reminder of where I truly was.

But the image of that man… his presence, stayed with me.

Who was he?

And why... did it feel like he was mine?