The Crimson Pack

~1~

Noooooo. I think as I walk out of my room. There, standing in the apartment kitchen, was my grandmother. Which only meant one thing.

"Sweet Pea!" I hear my grandfather say. He stands up from his seat on the black leather couch and barrels toward me. I brace myself as he hooks both his hands under my armpits. I'm spun about the room a couple of times before I'm put back down.

"You'd think you'd bust your hip by now dad." My mom berates from her spot on top of the kitchen counter.

It was just me and my mom. A dad? What's that? Who's he? And no, I don't have daddy issues. But a daddy kink- okay I'll stop that joke right there.

"It's my oldest grandbaby, I have to do that for as long as I can before she gets too tall." As if that would ever happen. Compared to my 5'7 frame, my grandpa is a beast of a man at 6'5, and with the muscles and arm hair to prove it.

My grandmother comes over with her glass of foreign wine and pats my cheek. She pulls me towards the kitchen, more specifically the island, where there was a perfect carving of a wolf. Next to it was a necklace with a howling wolf head. I can't help but to snort.

"You guys are rude." I say between laughter. Let me explain. I'm no 'ordinary girl'. I'm quirky. Just kidding. The only difference is I have added components in my DNA. QuIRky.

"We're just happy for you dear." My grandmother says. She pats my shoulder. I go up to the wolf carving and run my fingers through the crevices.

It doesn't look like me at all.

I snort out loud again. So yeah... That right there is the added component in my DNA. I'm a shifter. Most prefer the term 'werewolf' but, the truth is, there are other species. Mountain lion. Bear. Fox. Bobcat. And I'm sure there are more. I'm a wolf. It's in my genes. My grandpa. My grandmother. And my mom. We don't know who my dad was so my mom was quite distraught that I wasn't going to be a shifter. According to her, when I grew up I showed no signs of being a shifter. I wasn't very energetic, I was shy, and I was more interested in learning than sports.

Most of that hasn't changed. Except now I have a second voice in my head. I'm actually surprised my grandparents were here, as they were scheduled to still be in Greece for their anniversary. I asked my grandpa about it.

"Your mom called us to come and celebrate with you guys." He explains.

"That was less than 6 days ago!" I exclaim.

Six or so days ago...

I slouched down lower in my seat during 6th period, my health class. The teacher was droning on about the negative effects of heroin (newsflash, we all know it's bad). I gritted my teeth, willing the clock to move faster, but to no avail. I sat up and looked at my school-issued computer, where we were instructed to create a brochure on the negative effects of a random assigned drug. I searched up my topic and was ready to write down the negative effects when my hands began pulsing. I looked down at my hands, noticing nothing really happening.

Outside.

I looked at the girl behind me.

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" I said out of my suddenly dry mouth.

"No." She looks at me weirdly and turns back to her friends. I turn back around.

Outside. I want to go outside.

This time it was more prominent. I turned around.

"Can you stop?" I ask her. She looked at me again.

"Listen nutzo, I didn't talk." She turned back to her friends. "This is why Mr. Hander has to teach us about crackheads." She murmurs. 

I turned around and sat down.