SEVENTY-ONE

I didn’t know my mum was dead until a few minutes ago. I never considered meeting her because I knew she left me at a tender age, but finding out the circumstances that made her leave left me a little tongue-tied. I didn’t think she was a terrible person for leaving. In fact, I didn’t think about her a lot, because my mind could never form a picture of her.

I always thought I was the problem, but turns out I was wrong. I was not the only one hurting in all these years. My father was too, and the lines on his face were not as a result of old age but from too much worry and sadness. I blamed him for the longest time, but it is hard being in his shoes. I didn’t know so much about special werewolves and discovering I am one is still a surprise. I read about how the hunters took pride in hunting down special werewolves, but I somehow never believed it while I was growing up because I didn’t meet any special wolf.

My dad ran his fingers through