A rejected white wolf

Chapter 1 - The rejection

Caroline POV

Pain shot through my body.

“Wonderful, an amazing way to wake up on this fine morning,” I though bitterly, while my wolf whimpered in my head. Another kick to my ribs, I “painfully,” pretended to be hurt, but all this time, it never hurt at all. “Wake up you lazy ass, why the hell isn’t there any breakfast ready,” my dearest and loving mother asked me.

Wait…. Back up the truck. I completely forgot to introduce myself. My name is Brooks, Caroline Brooks… HAHAHA, you get it, Bond, James Bond. Huh? No…ok then… Anyway, my name is Caroline Brooks who shall be turning 18 in two more days. And, most important of all, I’m a werewolf. Nope, my dear, you are not imagining things and you are definitely not crazy and deserve to be in mental asylum… ok I took that a bit too far. Yup, that’s right, I’m a supernatural creature that is not supposed to exist in the human world. I belong to a pack, called the Burning Moon pack and it is the second largest in America, much to my dismay. Our ‘oh so wonderful,’ (note my sarcasm) is Myron Black. Huh… now that I’m telling you this, his name matches his heart, cold and black. Back to the story…

I groggily get out of my cardboard bed, stretching my stiff muscles, while the she-devil glared daggers that could kill, at me. Me, being me, rolled my eyes mentally, while my wolf scoffed at my mother. “I..I... I’m so sorry Ma’am, please forgive me,” I fake stutter, while she just smirked at me and left the room. “Bitch,” I muttered, before heading to the bathroom and freshening up. My body was covered in blue and purple bruises, scars added to the mix. I looked at myself in the mirror. In front of me stood a girl with pale skin and sorrow sleeping on her bags under her eyes. It was me. Me, who was a plain girl with a horrible life. My wardrobe consisted of used and dirty clothes because I was never allowed to buy my own clothes.

Jogging downstairs, I made sure that I winced at every step I took… Ha, I should win an Oscar for my acting. Glancing around, I noticed all the decorations that would be needed for the Alpha-to-be, Jace’s, 18th birthday party. He was the definition of cocky and arrogant, he got whatever he wanted and he used girls like used tissues. The girls didn’t mind though, they had a chance of getting in his pants, and that was all that mattered. Jace Black was the main bully of the pack, I hated his guts and it took everything in me not to punch his face and knock him out senseless. Throughout the years, I have planned over 100 ways to brutally murder and torture him.

Sighing, I dragged my tired body to the kitchen and began to prepare over 200 eggs, bacon and pancakes. Our stupid pack was pretty huge, I can’t deny that. Thank the Moon Goddess, I managed to finish with a few seconds to spare before the entire group of teenage assholes entered the kitchen. I kept my head down, praying that they wouldn’t notice me, for once I thought luck was on my side… Ya right. “Well, well, look at who it is,” the pack slut, Cassandra, sneered at me. That was when it started, the kicks, the punches, the pain. It lasted for a whole 10 minutes before they all left for school. I was granted permission from the Alpha… more like ordered, to skip school and start the decorations for the birthday party. Huffing in despair, I started with the balloons… they seriously couldn’t have brought me an air pump?!?  Assholes…

1 balloon turned into a 100 balloons and my lungs were desperate for a greedy amount of oxygen. I couldn’t stop though, I needed to finish this before everyone came home. Hours passed, before I finally finished with all the damn decorations. Tired and in pain, I looked at the clock and rushed upstairs. I had less than hour until the party started, so I started to get ready. Unfortunately, I had only one dress in my almost empty wardrobe, with no other choice, I grabbed it and hastily put it on. I looked in the mirror and admired the dress, it was a beautiful blue coloured lace dress, hugging my skin and flaring out at my waist. It ended mid-thigh and complimented my long legs. My eyes left the dress and travelled up to my face.  I was immensely proud of my big, hazel brown eyes, it was the one feature that I liked about my face. Shaking my head and not bothering to look at my hair, I ran downstairs once again. My hair always came beautifully without any help at all, it was natural and I liked it that way. My face, however, I never bothered with make-up, I felt like I didn’t need it, and most of all I didn’t want to look like a clown. But then again, I don’t even care about what other people think of me. By the time I was downstairs, the party was in full swing, and I looked around and smirked. “Well done Caroline, give yourself a pat on the back,” my wolf, Jewel, said to me. The room looked amazing, and my decorations were perfectly in place.