The Life of a Rogue

15. Confessions

A/N: I know this is soooooo short. I know. Please don't kill me but I thought it should end here. 

 "Hello everybody, this is Charlotte. She's new," the odd doctor introduced me to the circle of werewolves sat on chairs. They all turned and smiled with tired but pleasant smiles.

 "Hello Charlotte," I grimaced at their happy tones and didn't reply as I took one of the empty seats. I slumped back and watched as the meeting went on. I was desperate to get out of this place.

 It turned out that Brandon, my doctor, was one of the leaders and he mostly started people off. In case you were wondering, Brandon was in his late thirties. He became a rogue mostly because his mate was killed by wolf-bane but also because he was sick of healing warriors who just got themselves hurt over and over again when he could helping those who needed it.

 The meeting consisted of many rogues who talked about their lost mates, their broken packs, their ruined lives. Some were even rejected by their mates and ran off to become rogues. Most were orphans like me and felt like they didn't belong.

 I was surprised that most had decent lives. One of them was actually the CEO of a major corporation.

 I tuned into the end of a speech from Mike. He looked like a hobo and came across sad and desperate. But there was something in his eye. Something I hadn't seen in a while. Hope.

 "...I've finally stopped drinking in the mornings and started getting interviews at shops," people clapped as Mike smiled his toothy smile. I joined in but without much enthusiasm. I was glad that nobody picked on me from the start.

 I found out out that the meeting normally lasted for an hour and there had only been twenty. My butt was starting to grow numb from this plastic chair. I was also growing hungry, the hospital only gave me some crappy meal. I needed twice the amount a normal human needed. Fortunately Brandon managed to get some jelly for me but that was still just jelly.

 I just kept wishing it to be over and just lie in bed forever. Just lie in those sheets and never have to get up and face anyone. Not even Josh.

 Wow, I was such a coward.

 I was the one who walked away and now I can't even face the fact that I did.

 "Charlotte would you like to speak?"

 I blinked up at Brandon. Damn, I thought he was cool until now. I shook my head frantically. "Nope."

 "You sure because you look like you have a lot on your mind..." I didn't answer and then he took another approach. "Werewolves don't become rogues because they simply want to. We aren't rabid animals that just want to kill and destroy. We aren't people who just leave because we want to do our own thing.

 Werewolves are naturally social animals. We were born in packs. We hunt in packs. We eat in packs. We substain in packs. We naturally follow our leader and find comfort in the support our packmates give us.

 For one to simply leave everything that we were born into, everything that was drilled into our heads since we were able to talk, everything that we believed in, everything that we put our entire faith into, for one to simply get up and walk away - it must take a lot for anyone to do it."

 He took a deep breath and waited for that to sink in. People nodded in understanding and I only sat there. I sat there and I felt a mixture of emotions.

 I was happy that someone understood the nature of rogues. I was pleased that these people understood and knew what it was like.

 I felt smothered by the tension. And I would really like to just leave.

 But I wanted to stay with them. I wanted to confide in them and tell them everything. Everything.

 And I did. I told them everything. I don't know how or why but I felt like they wouldn't judge me.

 Some did but that made it all real. Some gasped when I shared my battle stories. Some held their breath as I showed them the scars. And everyone was silent when I finished.

 No one clapped. No one commented. No one did anything for a while.

 Brandon swallowed and then murmured, "Wow." And people nodded along in agreement, mostly because that was all they could say.

 I swallowed from the tense atmosphere. I glanced at everyone, feeling like something was lift from shoulders. But I didn't like it sitting on theirs. These people who I didn't know, but knew so much about, they knew my pain. They knew my story but they didn't know me.

 And with Josh... It was kind of the opposite.

 I remembered the time he smiled when I refused to admit I cried. He knew I would do that and he wasn't bothered by it at all. He knew that my family were killed, it was fairly obvious.

 I took a deep breath.

 I had made my choice. Now he just had to make his.