Violet's Return

What Life Has Become

"Mommy!" I hear the soft pitter patter of small feet against the carpet as one of the twins run into my room.

"Mommy?" The doorknob of my bathroom wiggles as they attempt to open it, unsuccessfully.

I smile at it as I wrap my towel around my body, opening the door to see my pouty faced son with his arms crossed over his chest.

I can't help but chuckle softly at his displeased demeanor. He can be a little sensitive, especially in comparison to his sister. Who I assume is responsible for the pitiful remains of the toy ball in his hand.

"What's the matter M&M?" I squat down to his level, lifting his little face to meet my gaze.

His nickname has a softer ring to it than his given name, Miles Mieczyslaw Noah Stilinski. So M&M is what I landed on to address him most of the time.

"Sissy busted our ball! And she did it on purpose!" He throws the torn, deflated ball to the ground in a fit.

"Miles." I give him a stern look to reprimand his actions. "Are you being honest?" He often bends the story to his benefit, especially when it comes to his twin.

He hangs his head and huffs, avoiding my eyes.

"Well..." He tugs at his ear and speaks softly. "I- I mean, Maggie did do it. She busted the ball, she really did!" He points his finger to sell his story, tossing his tiny hands in the air with an eye roll afterwards.

Miles reminds me so much of his father, a mini version of Stiles apart from the mint green eye color he inherited from me.

"But, I maybe... not for sure, but maybe told a tiny fib." He mumbles the last part, kicking at the ruined ball on the floor.

"Is that so?" I raise an eyebrow at him, awaiting the true version of the story.

"Mhmm." He nods his head, sighing. "It was an accident, her pointy nails came out when she caught the ball and it popped."

I smile and ruffle his hair before picking up the ball and getting to my feet. I sigh as I examine it, marks where Maggie punctured it with her claws evident.

I've been trying to teach them control but its kind of difficult to teach toddlers anything, especially four and a half year old SirenWolves that can't fully comprehend their power. Sofia even keeps a small amount of Wolfsbane in the ventilation system of the house to dull their strength, but they still have outbursts from time to time.

"How about you let mommy get dressed than we'll go get a brand new one, okay?" Miles smiles up at me, hugging my leg tightly before scurrying out of the room.

I dress quickly, a large grey knit sweater, black leggings and brown thigh high boots. I pull my long, wavy light brown hair up; even in a high ponytail it falls between my shoulder blades. A drastic change from the purple bob I had all those years ago, when I met Stiles.

I feel a pang of sadness as my thoughts drift to him, as they often do. More accurately, he is the main focus of my mind. Him and our children. I've tried so hard to get back to him.

The first week after I had broken free of Sofia's sleep spell I tried knocking her out so I could escape with the twins. It failed miserably, I was rendered unconscious along with her. Binding our lives was the smartest, most wicked thing she could have done.

Now I've spent years stuck with her, no plossible way out. I even tried to call Stiles once she gave me a phone, but she'd locked it so I could only contact her.

After about a month she started letting me go out on my own or with the children. On our first outing I immediately attempted to call Stiles from a strangers phone but Sofia answered though I was certain I had dialed Stiles.