Wanderer

Wanderer: Chapter 1

Darkness. It surrounded me. The cries of pain pierced my ears, leaving my eyes trickling with shed tears. My screams blended in with the sound of on-going torture, an infinite chain of regression. Trying to follow the sounds of the cries that seemed the most familiar, I ran aimlessly around in the pitch black field, but my efforts were useless. I couldn't see a thing, or touch a thing. I was hopelessly detached from every one around me, unable to protect or defend my loved ones. Dark, sadistic laughs echoed in my mind, creeping into the crevices of my guilt. Why couldn't I see anyone?

"Mom? Dad?" I cried, "Where are you?"

Silence responded.

Falling to the ground and curling into a ball, I wept. I wept like a child for the parent's I knew I had lost. I knew their deaths we're inevitable and fact. It's always the adults to go first. The weakest links or the strongest fighters. Take the old, leaving the young defenceless. That's how they worked, how they all worked. We we're nothing more than bait, pulling the young into the sea of murder to ensure the adults will run to their rescue.

"Clarissa..." A soft whisper surrounded me "Clarissa..."

"Mom?! Mom? Where are you, mom?"

"It's your fault, Clari. It's all your fault. We died, for you. We died because of you." I heard the soft voice of my mother call in a haunting tone.

"NO! Mom, it wasn't me!" I screamed against the continuous taunts of my parents, but to no avail.

"They're coming, Clari. And you're going to get what you deserve."

___

I shot up from the hard ground, sweat dripping from my forehead.

"God damn." I muttered, standing up and searching my surroundings. It wasn't unusual for my to have bad dreams... In fact, it would be uncommon for me not too.

After ensuring I was alone in the abandoned house I was in, I settled back onto the floor in the corner of the room and checked all my belongings were still there.

I stayed like that for a while, just sitting there, staring at my backpack. Time passed slowly, the four walls closing in on me quickly, but I stayed put. It felt nice to be alone, truly alone. Not running from groups of hunters or hunting for food myself. It was rare to get times like these nowadays, it's not often a lone wolf can just sit in a room without having a gun to their head or being strapped to the furniture.

I knew this wouldn't last though, soon I would be on the run again, moving from town to town, going nowhere and everywhere. Honestly, I felt like I was in one of those over dramatised zombie movies, travelling from ghost town to ghost town, searching for any signs of life, that was actually alive, and killing the occasional inhumane zombie on the way. But the other way around. In my version, I'm the 'inhumane' creature that the 'actually alive' humans wanted to kill. Minus the fact that I'm not a blood sucker and I am very much actually alive. One thing that was the same as all the movies was the fact that the world has totally fallen apart. Some places are alright, sure, but only the places with a fully only human population. The rest of the towns turned all Blade on our asses and spend their every waking moment stalking those of 'unnatural supernatural blood' and killing us, in cold 'unnatural supernatural blood'.

Now, I can't speak for the vampires or the faeries, but for us werewolves we were dying off very quickly. We're literally on the verge of getting our own rspca poster, prompting people to sponsor and adopt their very own 'endangered half-human, half-wolf things'.

Most of the adults are gone now, the majority of us are in our all under 25. My pack was one of the last to be attacked, exactly 1 year and 3 months ago. The hunters only killed the adults though, the parents and elders, and made the children watch in hopes to drive them insane. I never understood that logic, by keeping the young alive they just allowed us to grow and develop into the things they hated but with a hell of a lot more anger issues.