Novelas y relatos de When I Was Nine

A life that felt so far away now. I closed my eyes, and another memory surfaced, one that made my stomach twist. I was nine, living with a foster family in El Paso. The father was kind at first, then one night he came into my room reeking of beer, his rough hands grabbing at my thin shoulders. I fought back, clawing and biting until he threw me against the wall and called me worthless. That was the night I learned that people could hurt you and call it love. That was the night I learned to run.

“Because every time I looked at it…” She shrugged. “…I remembered a little boy who couldn’t wait to get home from school because all he wanted to do was play hockey.” I looked at the faded mark in the drywall. I’d forgotten it was even there. “I was nine.” “You were impossible.” “I was dedicated.” “You broke three picture frames.” “They were casualties.” She laughed. “I believe that’s exactly what you called them.” I dropped my overnight bag beside the kitchen table and slid into the same chair I’d been sitting in since elementary school.

The same tired voice she used my whole life, every time I tried to tell her something hurt. Something in my chest went very quiet. "Mom," I said. "Can I tell you something?" "Of course." "When I was nine, I won first prize at school. In art. You didn't come to the ceremony because Dad's boss was visiting. Do you remember?" She frowned. "That was a long time ago."

And just like that, I wasn't in the room anymore. I was nine years old, standing in the corner of a classroom while a circle of children laughed at me. Moonless. Moonless. The cursed one. The boy with no scent. A wolf who isn't a wolf. I was twelve, kneeling on the cold floor of the Ravenclaw kitchen, scrubbing a stain Mia had spilled on purpose, while Jeddy stood over me and laughed. I was sixteen, and I had stopped crying, because crying only made them hit harder. Nobody had ever fought for me. Not once.

What I saw made me realise something when I was little, it was so clear now. Flash back; I was 9 years old, I came back from school, I was so exhausted, I came down from my school bus and rushed to my house, I opened the door and I saw my mother cooking in the kitchen then I welcomed her and I was about to welcome my dad. I want to his room and found out that he wasn't there I went to my mother to ask why he was not im his room but she told me she had no idea where he was.

The problem is only that not so many people share this feeling with me. It all started when I was almost twelve, I was a little female tender child, and one day I left the house alone without saying anything to my father. I had learned to put on a coat, hat, and shoes and to open the door of the house. I went to the park and started off on a slide that hurt all the kids' bottoms when they hit the ground. And I remember that I liked it, I liked it so much. So I went to the slide and I enjoyed it.

To tell him what happened that day, nine years ago. When I nodded my head, he pressed a lingering kiss on the crown of my head. Taking a deep breath, filling my lungs with his scent, I readied myself to live those memories once again. "Nine years ago, I was kidnapped from my school." That was the last day of my going out for school as well. "It was the clerk. He grabbed me from the empty washroom when all the kids were back to their classes after the lunch break. My guards weren't allowed to go in as per the rules of the school. So it wasn't hard for him to get me out through the backdoor."

Mae’s POV When I was nine, I didn’t have many friends. I spent my time running through the woods when my parents thought I was with friends or at the park. I’d make up adventures and create a whole new world in my head. One afternoon I went a little too far, I didn’t want to admit I was lost to myself at the time, but I was. “Why are we here grandpa?” A boy my age asked.

While I am driving the car, I remember the day when I was still a child. It was dated 20 years back when I'm nine years old. "Arthur, son. It's your birthday today. Do you want to eat outside?" My father asked me while putting his hands on my shoulder. "Let's eat outside!" My brother Art happily jumping as if he was the one who was celebrating my birthday.

We passed an old abandoned wishing well in the forest, and I couldn't help but remember the first experience I ever had with him. I was 9 years old. I was living with my mother in a small, cozy cottage just on the edge of the Obsidian pack. It was close to where I currently live now. We weren't part of a pack back then, it was just us. Me and her. Thinking back, it was a little strange that we didn’t live in a pack, being Wolves and all.