The Half-Life of a Werewolf

Chapter 1

Aurora’s POV

I said it again, louder this time. “Please stop touching me.”

My voice shook, but I meant every word.

Mr. Larry either didn’t hear me or didn’t care. His sweaty hand crept higher up my thigh, his breath hitting my face like a mix of cheap coffee and week-old cigarettes.

“Come on, Aurora. Don’t be shy,” he said with that same gross smirk he always wore. “You want it.”

No. I wanted him fired, fined, and possibly flung into traffic.

I leaned in, close enough to see the grease shining on his skin, and said, calm and clear,

“You’re just a very disgusting man.”

Then I spat in his face.

He froze—shocked, furious. For a second, I thought I’d won. But then he wiped his cheek slowly, the spit glistening on his fingers, and looked at me with a smirk that made my stomach twist.

Without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed my breast.

That was it.

I shoved at his chest, but he pinned me tighter to the storage room wall. Panic screamed in my head. I twisted, squirmed. Nothing worked. Then something snapped inside me—not fear. Something else.

I pushed again. This time, harder.

He flew backward like he’d been yanked by a rope, crashing into a shelf of canned tomatoes. One rolled off and hit him square in the temple. I didn’t stick around to celebrate. I ran, slammed the door shut behind me, and collapsed against the hallway wall.

My lungs felt like they were on fire.

How did I end up here? This job was supposed to help Grandma and me stay afloat. But Mr. Larry had gotten bolder lately, nastier. Today? That was the last straw.

I left without clocking out.

⸻

When I got home, Grandma Rose was already in the kitchen, humming like nothing had happened.

She looked up. “What happened, child?”

I hesitated. “Just a rough day.”

She squinted. “You’re not telling me everything.”

I forced a smile. “I’m fine, really.” Which was the universal code for absolutely not fine at all.

After changing out of my uniform and into something more comfortable, I found myself lost in thought about my mother. I never had the chance to meet her; she passed away bringing me into this world. Since I could remember, my father had harbored disdain for me, a feeling that only deepened when he decided to leave me behind. As a result, all I had were faded stories and fragments of mystery surrounding her. Answers were elusive, and all I was left with was an overwhelming silence that filled the void.

Grabbing my bag, I called out, “I’ll be late tonight, Grandma. Don’t wait up.”

“Be careful, child,” she said, with that same warning tone she always used—like she knew something I didn’t.

⸻

The walk back to the diner felt like a death march. Every step made me question why I was returning.

But when I stepped inside, there he was.

Mr. Larry.

Bruised temple. Fake smile. Same sleazeball energy.

“Welcome back, sweetheart.”

I gave him nothing. No expression. No reaction. Just turned away and got to work.

The shift was long. Every second dragged like a year. I stuck to waiting tables and avoided the kitchen like it was radioactive.

Later, I stepped outside for air. The cold helped. A breeze brushed across my neck. I inhaled slowly… then I heard it.

A howl.

Far off, distant. But real.

My stomach flipped. A dog? A coyote? Something about it made my skin prickle.

I ran back inside.

⸻

By closing time, I was dead on my feet. I just wanted to go home, eat something warm, and sleep for ten years.

But the universe wasn’t done being weird.

I was wiping down a counter when a customer stepped up beside me—tall, lean, kind eyes, but serious. Intense-serious.

“I need to speak with you alone,” he said.

Okay, weird opener. I raised an eyebrow.

“There’s something really important you need to know, but I can't tell you everything right now.” he continued. “And stay home tomorrow. The full moon is coming. Trust me.”

I blinked. “…..What?”

He leaned in. “You’re a werewolf.”

I stared at him.

Then I laughed. Not just a chuckle—a full-blown snort-laugh.

“Right. A werewolf,” I said, rolling my eyes. “What’s next? I sparkle in the sunlight? I’m secretly a vampire princess? Maybe I talk to squirrels and control the weather?”

He didn’t laugh.

That made it creepier.

“You’ll see soon,” he said quietly. “Just stay home tomorrow. Please.”

And then—poof. He was gone. Vanished into the crowd like Batman if Batman wore flannel and smelled like pine needles.

I just stood there, still holding a greasy rag, wondering what the hell was in the air tonight.

“A werewolf,” I whispered, still smirking. “Okay, stranger-danger-Twilight-edition. Whatever you say.”

But the thing is… I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

And deep down, under the sarcasm and stress and exhaustion… a tiny part of me wasn’t laughing anymore.

——————-

Larry’s POV

Meanwhile, in the back office…

Larry sat hunched over his desk, swirling whiskey in a chipped mug. His temple throbbed where the can had hit.

“That little brat,” he muttered.

His office smelled like cheap cologne, expired air freshener, and defeat.

He winced and groaned as he gently pressed the peas to his head. “Damn, that girl broke my face.”

“She’s hiding something,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes. “No way that kind of strength’s natural.”

He sat forward, hunched like some evil goblin from a fantasy movie, staring at his crusty laptop screen, where a paused YouTube video titled “How to Tell If Someone Is on Drugs” still blinked. Next to it: tabs for “female strength enhancers,” “emotional outbursts in young women,” and—strangely—“are mutants real.”

He rubbed his chin, deep in thought. “Maybe she’s on steroids. Or creatine. Or witchcraft. Hell, girls do weird stuff these days.”

“I’ll figure you out, sweetheart. Nobody makes a fool of Larry and gets away with it.”