Blood stains on the carpet

What happens if all the stories were true? That the darkness was real and could show itself at a whim? Hailey finds out this all too late one fateful night.


1. The hierachy of wolves

 I moaned and rolled across my bed, burying my face in the soft blue pillow. Trickles of the breaking dawn were slipping through my ajar curtains and warmed my skin. I love summer mornings like this, and the smell of the dew. The hissing of oil on a frypan was quietly popping in the background and I closed my eyes against the pillow and sighed heavily.

"Keelie, wake up, Mum wants you downstairs" A small hand shook my shoulder and I turned my head to look at my little sister, Lahn. Her straight brown hair wafted around just past her shoulders and freckles splattered her slightly tanned face. I smiled and slid my hand across the bed and cupped her face, causing her to smile in return, dimples piercing her cheeks.

"I'll be down in a minute, just let me get dressed" I mumbled in reply and slowly dragged myself from my bed. Lahn nodded quietly and softly walked away, closing the door behind her. She always moved so quietly and seemed almost doll-like in her movements. My black wavy hair tumbled around my shoulders as I sat up, my eyes still full of sleep. Getting up and selecting a simple green top and my favourite blue jeans, I headed for my mother in the kitchen.

"Yeah?" I said as I grabbed a piece of toast from the pile my mum had set on a small white plate at the edge of the bench. Choosing a stool, I hoisted myself up and looked at my mother as she turned to me, wringing her sun-kissed hands. She avoided my eyes at first, staring at the toast that was in my hand at first, before finally meeting my worried gaze. Breathing in, she wandered over and placed her hands on the pale grey benchtop. I chewed my lip and I could feel my eyebrows creasing as my mother look worried and upset.

"Honey.." She began before crying. Her shoulders heaved and she buried her face in her hands, her brown hair falling past her face. "Mum?" I said as I leaped from my chair and went across to hug her. She was slightly shorter than me and I rested my chin on her bent head, her arms clinging to the material of my shirt.

 Sniffling, she wiped her hands across her nose, looking at me and her green eyes the same as my own had started to incur a red haze. Ever since my father died when I was 14, I was always mum's rock. I helped look after Lahn for the past 3 years in his absence, taking on a jo of my own and constantly helping around the house. She walks around with an absent look on her face and when she looks at me, I can see she wants to cry. Besides my green eyes, I am the same as my father. My sister and mother are slightly tanned, but I am a richer colour, the same as my father. Same curly black hair, same smile, same everything pretty much.

 She kissed my forehead softly and then breathed in again. "You have something wrong with you, my sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I've been meaning to tell you your whole life but I was scared to. There was only a chance that it could've happened to you, but your uncle says wrong." She was rambling and I was confused. What's wrong with me? I held her face in my hands and told her to breathe.

 My skin itched, like always lately but I ignored it as I watched her. She cocked her head to the side, indicating for me to sit on the small brown couch with her. I sat, One leg under me, the other swinging absently at the edge of the couch. "Honey you aren't normal. Your father wasn't normal either. I ignored the signs, hoping that it was just my imagination but you're uncle could smell it on you. Darling you're a werewolf" She fidgeted her fingers at the word and then continued, "You are just a pup"

 I laughed and got up, shaking my head. "Good one mum, trying to trick me of what, tales of the night?" I laughed much to loud at the thought. She looked away, shaking her head and then stood up, smoothing her apron down with her hands. "I tried to tell you sweetie, I love you" She barely smiled as she turned and quickly left the room. It's false. It HAD to be false. The stories of werewolves are just that of fantasies, the kind of things that you read in books or tell small children to scare them.

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