The Colour of Love ✔️

Prologue

I was an anomaly.
   
    In a world filled with the supernatural, I was human. Inside and out.

    But I was my parents pride and joy and only child. It hadn’t been their decision, They were trying to have a family for 18 years and the only successful one was me on the 18th year, when my mother was 48 and my father 53. I was deeply loved and cherished and I didn’t doubt for a second that despite my distinctive differences I was treated the same as anyone; maybe a little extra special.
   
    I loved doing art, it was one of the things I loved the most in the world and to help me, my parents bought me sketch pads and paints, pencils and anything else I wanted. My fascination grew from simple drawings to tattooing and I moved from tattooing pack members to leaving the pack and getting a small part-time job in the community two hours from the pack. Well two hours for me.

    And it was this love for tattoos that brought that life to the end it had.

    I was sitting on the small stool behind the small table we used to book appointments when a man I had seen in the shop once before walked in. He looked around frantically and I tilted my head.

    “Remember, never corner a wounded or frightened animal, they were bound to attack.” My father’s voice called out as he held me at arms length.

    “Never show fear. The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” My mother had spoken up after. I had frowned confused.

    “What about dying?” My parents looked at each other before looking at my 16 year old self.
   
    “Those who do not fear death only die once. If you carry with you the fear of dying then you will be afraid to die and there is no greater prison.” I scrunched up my eyebrows in confusion.

    “Everyone dies Amber. No one is spared from death’s cold grasp.” My father shook his aged head and I nodded mine slowly. They knew what they were talking about, they were older and more experienced than me; they would have seen many things in their life that I had not.

    “I will have no fear.”

    “Can I help you?” I raised an eyebrow and watched as he pulled out a gun. I tilted my head and stared at him with indifference and he stared back confused before gripping the gun with two hands.
   
    “All the cash, now!” I raised my eyebrow higher and shrugged.

    “We don’t keep cash.” He stared at me for a long time before he stepped closer.

    “Listen, don’t make me kill you. I just want the cash.”

    “I’m not afraid to die.” I had to make peace with my death since I was 16. Living in one of the smaller, weaker packs made all of us accept our deaths before we should have accepted it.

    “What’s wrong with you?” I shrugged and stared down that barrel of the gun as his hands shook more. “Just give me the money!” I rolled my eyes.

    “There is no money.” I said evenly. There were some loud noises from the street and I stayed where I was. He was a man with a gun and I was a 20 year old with a fragile body, he could overpower me and I would die. I did not want to die without eating first or kissing my mother again. I also had a drawing I wasn’t finished with; I didn’t want to die because I had stuff I wanted to do before Death came to get me.

    “Stop lying!” He took off the safety.

    “My mother hates liars, so I-” The shot was heard loud and clear and I felt the impact as the bullet lodged itself in my chest. It was instantaneous how my mouth had filled with blood and my body collapsed to the ground. He came over me and I stared at him as he took the gold chain from my neck and the wolf ring from my finger. My eyes pricked and I coughed, choking on blood. He had shot my lung, he couldn’t even aim for the heart.

    I really wished I had finished that drawing. Was my last thought as I bled out and died.

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