Primal

Chapter 1

When my mother died in an airplane crash almost six years ago, I didn't think that life was ever going to get better. I was wrong. I also didn't think that it could ever get worse. I was wrong again.

The saying 'time heals all wounds' is somewhat true. As the years went by, it was easier to deal with her passing. I learned how to function normally again. Rather than crying for weeks straight like I did when I first learned of the crash, I would only fall apart on the anniversary of her death, on her birthday, or when someone tried to talk to me about what happened. Life did get better.

I was happy, during my first year of college. I made friends who didn't know about my past, who didn't look at me with pity every time someone mentioned their mom. I got all A's, found something I was passionate about. I got a job, rented my own apartment. My father and brother were healing too. I saw them often. I was happy.

And then life got worse. The werewolves took over when I was 19. It was the summer after my first year of college had finished. I had just moved out; I had just started living on my own. To put it lightly, I was terrified. At first, the werewolves controlled every aspect of our lives. We weren't allowed to be outside unless it was to get rations, and even then they only let a few of us out at once. They dismantled the internet and confiscated phones. I had no way to contact my father and my brother. I had no way to contact any of my friends.

At first, the only people I talked to were twins Landon and Chelsea. They lived in the apartment across the hall from mine, and while we didn't talk much before the werewolves took over, we became close quickly. Even after the first month, when they finally allowed humans roam freely around the human sector, the three of us remained tight.

The first thing I did when they lifted the lock down was visit my brother and my father. I wanted to run there, but a werewolf yelled at me for running so I had to settle for a powerwalk. When I was about half way there, I heard someone yell my name.

"Rosalie!" The voice was familiar.

My head whipped around and I saw my brother running across the street at full speed. I was in his arms in seconds.

"Ian," I mumbled, voice slightly muffled.

"Are you okay?" he asked, pulling away, placing his hands on my cheeks.

Even when I said "Yeah," his eyes roamed my body as if checking for injuries.

"Come on," he said suddenly. "Dad is at home in case I missed you."

I nodded and we made our way home as quickly as we could. The streets were packed with humans, trying to find loved ones. I had overheard that they forced a massive number of humans into the Denver area. There was talk of another human sector in Colorado Springs. Some families were forced apart and it looked like the werewolves were not going to allow anyone to leave their assigned sector.

"Rosalie!" my dad had me in his arms the second that Ian and I walked into my childhood home.

"Dad," I sobbed into his shoulder.

"Everything is going to be okay," my dad soothed, rocking me back and forth like a child.

My father and brother had always been a bit overprotective, especially after my mom died. But the arrival of the werewolves increased this trait even more. They were always checking in on me, making sure I was okay. And while I appreciated it, their overbearing nature was irritating to say the least.

Ian and my dad had an irrational hatred for the werewolves. Of course, I hated the beasts too, but not like they did. They constantly spoke of plans to rebel. They admired the Resistance. I was constantly worrying that I would learn that one of them was killed because they disrespected a werewolf.