The Irony Of Being A Werewolf

~Chapter 2~

                                            If you find any of this confusing at all or if it doesn't make sense please let me know!!

                                                

                                           

                                                             ~Chapter 2~

     

                   I watched numbly as the casket was lowered into the ground.  The funeral had been delayed a week due to some kind of trouble with the bodies, as I heard from the news. It had given me enough time to scrounge up money for a ticket and fly back home to Florida to attend my parents’ funeral. I was well aware that the authorities were now looking for me, reporting me as missing since they found out I hadn’t been on the plane and was still alive somewhere.

 I honestly didn’t care if they found me and put me in some foster care or with some long lost relative. I could always run away if I needed to and return to my life on the run. It’s not like I knew what else I’d do with my life. The last year and a half had become my normal.

 As well as doing my best to find money during the time that I had before the funeral, I had also ditched the contacts and dyed my hair back to the closest I could get to my golden blonde hair. Since my parents were the only ones after me that knew what I actually looked like and now they were gone, it was safer to return to my real look than any other.

And who knows? Perhaps the Curators would forget about me when some new case pops up and without my parents constantly telling them about how much danger I was.

 I tugged on a strand of my hair, doing my best to look at anywhere but the large hole in the ground. Yet it was hard, when the bold words engraved on the tombstone were words that I had been familiar with my whole life and when the last name of the two people on it was my own.

Anne and James Williams.

To most of the world they were caring people who had adopted a baby (me), helped out with charity organizations, and spent most of their time traveling for journalism.

The truth was that they had only adopted so that they would have someone to raise and train in their occupation; the hunting of werewolves. Yes, they did love me (before I had ironically turned into a werewolf when I was sixteen and their life mission had turned into hunting me specifically), but they had never been as touchy-feely as most parents. They had also never done journalism in their life and didn’t fancy hanging around charity places.

I honestly didn’t know how I was supposed to feel by their death. Relieved that I didn’t have them intently hunting me down? Filled with grief because they were the people who had raised me? Guilty because the only reason they were on that plane was probably to try and get me?

 In all honesty, I didn’t feel any of that. In fact, I felt nothing at all. I was currently numb to the pain. I knew sooner or later, I would burst into tears about it, but not right now. Right now I was… unfeeling.

“Kaylee! Oh sweetie, it’s simply awful isn’t it? I’m so sorry!” My Aunt Kristy, the one relative who searched for monkeys instead of werewolves, engulfed me in a giant hug. She was a middle sized woman that was around the same height as me. Her curly brown hair was pressing against my face and I spit some out of my mouth.

“Wait… Kaylee! Oh thank the heavenly monkeys! We all thought you were dead or kidnapped or monkey knows what! I know what; you can come stay with me up in Connecticut! Your parents didn’t leave the matter of your guardianship in the will, so I should be able to take you with me, right? I’ll go ask the attorney about it! But that’s only if you want to come! I don’t want you to feel like I’m pressuring you. Oh god, I’m pressuring you, aren’t I? The ladies in my Wildlife club always say that I can get a little too pressing. But, who cares about their opinions? They don’t even get why monkeys are so important! It’d be fantastic to have another monkey lover around. So what do you say, dear?” Well that escalated quickly. Is it even possible to say monkeys that many times in such a short period?