Lunar Distortions

Prologue

You will never know true pain. Not until you realise you're alone.

It's a surreal emotion; feeling something even, though you know it. They are two entirely different things. I know bee stings hurt, but I've never felt it. I know a lot of things that I've never felt before, and I'm okay with that.

I'm okay with not feeling everything. Sometimes, it's best to just know.

I don't know, maybe it's just me. I've always taken my time in understanding things, but this was something new altogether, and it was the hardest thing to understand.

Being alone, knowing you're alone...feeling the loneliness.

I knew immediately when something was wrong, it was like a constant panging in my chest. It was like I could feel what was happening, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, and a coldness over-came my body.

Knowing something before seeing it; the worst feeling I have ever experienced.

All I knew was that I needed to go home; there was no rational explanation. Something was gnawing at me under my skin to take the next cab out of the city and back to my apartment. I even checked my phone but saw no missed calls.

But I knew. I just knew something, but I had no idea what.

"I'm going to bail," I announced sweeping my tent sized denim jacket that swallowed me over myself. My words gained various astonished looks. Leave? We had just gotten here, "I feel weird. I think it's all the smokes."

Ah, yes. City number eleven was New York; all exciting but not necessarily all new. After all, once you've seen one major city, you've kind of seen them all.

My dad and I were always travelling because of his job- freelance writing. He hated the idea of sticking in one place for too long.

The faces that looked at me were only three, and I barely knew them. Despite having lived here for at least three months. I made a point to not make attachments; first names and two interests is all I ever make a point to know about people.

"But the show is about to start!" David whined as the smoke machines started pumping out artificial fog for the anticipated band's arrival to the stage, "You can't go- these men are iconic revolutionists!"

Gut ripping pain suddenly rippled through me, deafening me to the thunderous sound of a screaming man entering the stage. My mouth dropped open into a silent scream as everyone jostled around me. Completely unaware that I felt like someone was disembowelling me whilst they chanted their eagerness to rock.

I blinked at my eyes watered out of focus and stumbled towards the exit. I knew this wasn't cramps- even they weren't even this painful!

For some reason, all I could think about was my father. A primal need to be home with him tore through me, forcing me through the venue's exit doors.

Minutes was how long it took me to stagger home, and the door was already open. I didn't even care about what dad would have to say about the lingering smell of cigarettes clinging to his jacket, or how short my dress was.

When I think too hard, I can feel it. The physical tightness of my heart being clenched by an invisible fist of steel, the blood-curdling tang of iron in the air, tinged with the smell of something burnt.

I can feel the way my body trembled so violently that my teeth knocked together, my ankles twisting painfully in my heels as I forced myself forward.

And then I see him.

He looked like he was napping, had he not been sprawled across the tiled floor. Just staring through the ceiling with bright glassy eyes, unseeing but showing an echo of an emotion that had passed through me earlier on.

There is no pain like seeing the only man in the world who has given a damn about you, lying lifelessly on a floor, like he didn't even matter.

It's the kind of pain that cripples you, the kind of pain that blocks everything out so that you can't even cry, it makes your throat tighten beyond breathing capability.

Because why should I be able to breath when my dad couldn't?

I don't even remember what the wailing sound that scraped from my throat was, but it felt like the most natural thing I could do. My knees cracked as I sunk beside him.

I didn't even check for a pulse because I...I just knew he was gone. It was a sickening knowledge.

A knowledge that changed my life, in more ways than the obvious.

So, yeah. Sometimes it hurts less to know, rather than to feel.

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A/N

Hey, everyone! 

So, this a new adventure I'm taking. Everyone used to think Mutations was a werewolf book, but now there finally is one. I'm not promising it will be a work of art, but I do hope you guys enjoy it.

I just wanted to thank those who encouraged me in my post. I really hope this one does you guys justice. I've always loved werewolf stories, so much I have never written my own. Mainly because I don't want to butcher the genre!

Leave a comment on your thoughts! You guys know my first drafts are always disastrous: so, give me time!

Anyway, enjoy! And thanks to all who are giving this a chance!

- EmbracingYou