Fueling the fire

Athena POV

“I used to think my life was a tragedy, but now I realize, it’s a comedy”.

That famous quote from the Joker runs through my head over and over, as my clothes are absolutely drenched in slimy red and yellow gunk.

Only, in my case, it’s still a tragedy. I fail to see the comedy part in all of this.

I smell like an omelet gone bad. No - an omelet gone bad months ago. Everyone in the cafeteria is snickering or downright bellowing in laughter, at my expense. And why shouldn’t they? It’s their handy work that I’m covered in rotten eggs and goddess knows what after all. Welcome to my life.

Sadly, I have gotten somewhat used to the bullying. I have learned a long time ago that firing back only makes things worse. And, well, it’s just me against the world. Or at least against my own pack. The teachers don’t even bother trying to stop it either. One of them tried 2 years ago, and she was fired and sent packing on the spot.

Courtesy of the 2 identical Alpha pricks that enjoy making my life a living hell. Who, by the way, finally graduate this summer. The goddess must have finally taken some pity on me after all. And no - they aren’t smarter than me. Just 1 year older. How they managed to graduate at all is beyond me though. Saying they aren’t the brightest crayon in the box wouldn’t do them justice. They don’t seem to have any functioning brain cells at all.

As you can tell, I hate them with fierce determination.

They have ensured my life is a living hell since I was 6, and sometimes I honestly wonder why I haven’t given up yet. If only I weren’t such a stubborn b*tch, I might have. Who knows. I like to hope there will be a turning point at some stage.

I don’t know what I have ever done to deserve torture to this extent, but the moon goddess must definitely think I do. I pray to her every day that my mate, if I will get any, will be from red runner pack. And I say “if I will” for a reason – but I will get to that later.

I visit red runner every summer, and have done so ever since I was little. And I have actually made friends there. Even with the Alpha heir, Maxim, and the beta’s daughter, Millie.

‘You made 2 friends. 2. Not friends, as in plural’ Ares snickers, to which I just scoff. ‘That was just rude and uncalled for’ I reply back snarkily.

Okay, maybe I’m not exactly a social butterfly. At all. In fact, if I wouldn’t have to hold back so much, people might call me a sarcastic little shit instead.

Well, let me introduce my wonderful life to you (yes, sarcasm in the third degree).

I’m Athena Brooks. Yes, Athena, you read that correctly. Courtesy of my father, who wanted a fierce name for his little baby. Or so, the official story goes. But, I will get to that later too.

My naming after the Greek goddess of warfare, heroism and courage has been an endless supply of ammo for my bullies throughout the years, I’ll tell you that. That and my, and I quote, “whale size body”.

Anyway. I’m from blood moon pack, where the vermin of werewolves reside. I am 17 years old and finally turning 18 next summer, a few months away. Finally of legal ago to do as I please.

Well, sort of. I don’t know what I am going to do after my 18th birthday yet, but I don’t think I can stay here. Especially when the 2 shit stains would take over the Alpha position after their father in a few years’ time. The current Alpha, their father, is a complete dickhead as well. But at least he doesn’t go out of his way to target me and make my life a living hell, like his precious sons enjoy doing so much.

It hurts my heart to think of leaving mom behind though. But I don’t see myself ever escaping the pit of doom I am in otherwise.

‘Melodramatic much, geez’ Ares pipes up again.

Ah, yes, I almost forgot - I have my spirit animal already. I say spirit animal for a reason, and once again I will get to that later as well. She too has a fierce name. Ironically enough, considering we are very docile.

‘Not by choice, though’ Ares grumbles. And rightfully so. We have been threatened with my parents’ wellbeing more times than we can count. They know exactly where to hit to keep me in check.

‘We’ werewolves always get our wolves at the age of 18. We share our body and soul with them going forward. But, Ares came to me when I was 6. We have never actually shifted into our wolf form though, after my mom made us swear on her life that we wouldn’t. We found it strange, and we still regret not being able to shift, but my mom won’t relent. Every time I try to bring it up her eyes fill with panic, and she keeps insisting it isn’t the right time yet. I’m not sure if there will ever be a right time in her eyes though. What good is it being a shifter, if you’re not allowed to shift?

I think my mom is scared that I will turn out not to be a wolf, but something like a squirrel, or a mouse. Which brings me to another tidbit of information about me. Apparently, my mom isn’t my biological mother. And neither is my “father”. Although I am not too peeved about the latter, considering I have no relationship with the man whatsoever. My mom stung for a while, but she loves me like her own and has always given me everything a mom should. So, I can only applaud her for that.

She explained how she was in the last semester of her own pregnancy, when she sadly lost her baby. She was wandering around in unclaimed lands. And, as if it were divine intervention, she came across a woman seeking refuge for her baby. The woman was dirty, with matted hair, torn clothes and a frantic look in her eyes.

My mom took one look at me, one look at my crazed biological mother, and decided she couldn’t leave me with the woman. The woman gave my mom some basics about me, and that’s it. That’s all she wrote.

Mom’s story still haunts my nightmares though, although I would never tell her that. She would feel guilty for telling me, and I don’t want that. She is an absolute angel. And although I don’t know how to feel about my biological mother, my mom is everything to me. I would lay down my life for hers in a heartbeat. Which is exactly how the shit stains and their posse got such a hold on me. Pricks.