Leaving My Unfair Home Novels & Stories

“He just used what happened as an excuse.” Her face folded in on itself. “It’s not fair, Mom. Luca was just trying to be nice at the end and Dad just sent him away.” At the end. Franklin had chosen the ending. A clumsy moment of comfort turned into proof. “Life isn’t fair,” I said. It was the only shield I had left. “Go to bed. Try to sleep.” When she was gone, the house emptied out. I shut off the lights, avoided the sunroom, climbed the stairs. Franklin’s door was closed. My hand stopped on our bedroom knob. The room felt wrong before I even entered it, so I turned away.

A nobody. I had debts to pay. Bills waiting. Rent. Responsibilities. Reality. While they floated through life on soft cushions and silver spoons, never having to fight or sacrifice or beg for anything. Life was unfair. Brutally unfair. When the taxi finally stopped in front of my building—a small, peeling block of faded paint and flickering lights—I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Home. Not glamorous. Not safe, half the time. But familiar.

Instead, I met all my belongings at the entrance of the house. They weren't even home, but they made sure to throw my things out before they left. I looked at my stuff with heavy eyes. What do I do now? Why was life being so unfair to me?

“Because I thought this was our home. I thought I belonged here. But apparently, I was just staying in your house until you decided you were tired of me.” “That isn’t what I’m saying.” I said. “Then what are you saying?” She demanded. “I’m saying that things aren’t working right now.” “And you think throwing me out will fix them?” “I think space will help.” I said. “Then you can leave.” I frowned. “What?” “You want space so badly? So, leave.” “This is ridiculous.” “No, what’s ridiculous is you standing here telling me I need to leave because you’re uncomfortable.” She mocked.

In Black Wolf Pack, when a pup was born, the parents would place a moonstone on the Moon Goddess' Altar for safekeeping. Before the pup reached adulthood and underwent their first shift, the moonstone was crafted into a protective amulet to be worn at all times. This granted them the Moon Goddess' protection for the rest of their lives. Before my coming-of-age ceremony, my boyfriend, Steven Payton, personally made protective amulets for my twin sister, Wendy, and me. Wendy's protective amulet was an exquisite gold necklace set with two moonstones. It had a crescent mark engraved on it to symbolize the Moon Goddess' blessing. Mine was a plain gold wolf-bone pendant. I froze. "Steven, wh

My mom passed away when I was twelve, leaving everything she had to me. My dad cried at her bedside, swearing he'd never remarry and that he'd take care of me no matter what. But six months later, my stepmother moved into the villa my mom had left me, with her daughter. She told me, "I'll love you like you're my own." It didn't take long before my room, my clothes, everything, was taken over by her daughter. I got shipped off to a boarding school and was only allowed home on weekends. That went on for four years. After my father had been away on business for months, her abuse only got worse. She even tried to make me take the fall for her daughter. When I refused, she locked me in the baseme

In my third year after joining the werewolf guard, I single-handedly cut off the rogues' supply line during a raid. For my actions, the chairman of the werewolf council awarded me a Silver Moon Insignia and granted me the right to live in a four-bedroom penthouse apartment at Moonshadow Estate. Mom once told me that if we ever moved into a bigger home, she would give me a bedroom that belonged to me alone. On the night all the furniture was moved in, I searched every one of the four bedrooms, but there wasn't the slightest trace of me in any of them. The master bedroom belonged to my parents. My older sister, Kalista, had taken the sunniest south-facing suite. My younger brother, Keane,

Every sane cell in my body said leave but at home I had no boyfriend, no team, no school, and two hundred dollars. A dead stranger had left me something and a lawyer had lied to get me here because my mother was about to be homeless. "Five minutes and I leave," I told Veralin. He nodded and started walking, expecting me to follow. Mom caught my wrist, her hands were trembling. "Calista, please, go home. I can handle it"

Completely, utterly wrong. I could survive a loveless marriage. But I would not bring my child into this nest of manipulation and cold calculation. I would not let my baby grow up with a father who would sooner see us both gone. My grip tightened on my dress over my stomach. The despair burned away behind my eyes and left something cold and clear in its place. This time, I was really done.

They were so small, so peaceful, like they were completely untouched by all the mess we’d made. I reached out to touch the crib rail but stopped before my fingers made contact. They didn't deserve to carry the weight of a broken home. I backed away slowly, pulling the door almost shut behind me. I wasn't leaving them. I was leaving the cage. Back in our bedroom, I started packing. I didn't need much—just a few clothes, my keepsakes, and anything that belonged to me and only me. Sometimes, leaving is the only way I get to keep my soul. *****