Chapter ♡ 1
Moon Tears is in honour of one of my readers, Liz M, who reached out and wanted me to write a story she had been thinking about for a long time and she asked me to write it. So here it is!
Just in case you missed it in the blurb! Moon Tears has a TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Assault is a major theme which runs the main plot, a lot of the characters have their own stories of SA that they share, so please be wary of this.
I watched through the blinds as my son got on the school bus for the first time. Jack smiled and waved back at Melody, my best friend and saviour. For nearly 6 years I’ve spent all my time living in her home with her family. I never left when I came here. I literally don’t leave her yard.
I’m afraid.
One moment changed my entire life.
It happened 5 years ago.
I looked in the mirror as I checked myself over. I couldn’t see any of the red dress I bought. It was tight and showed skin I was not allowed to show. It was exhilarating knowing it was just beneath my jumpsuit and hidden from view. My parents were strict in their religion. No sex before marriage. Do not show off your body. No consumption of anything addictive such as alcohol, cigarettes, drugs, and caffeine. No taking of a life. Pray daily and worship every Sunday. I believed in some of their beliefs, but not all.
I loved my parents but today was the first day I would disregard their religion. I say their religion because I simply wasn’t sure if I believed in the same values they preached. I had finally finished my college degree and I was going to go to a night club for the first time. If my parents ever found out.......
I grabbed my duffel bag and ran downstairs. I gave my mom and dad a kiss on their cheeks before running for the door.
“Bye. I’ll see you guys tomorrow. Thank you for letting me go to Christa’s house for the night.” I had rolled my eyes internally. I was 21 and still had to ask my parents to stay the night at a friend’s house. It was rare they allowed it.
Christa was a ‘friend’ from theatre classes I’d spoken with in college. She played the perfect religious ‘friend’ of mine. I even had her come to my house for dinner, cementing our ‘friendship’ to be real and holy enough for my parents. I’d planned this night for months and was very excited.
The club was in full swing as I sat on a bar stool and giddily looked over their menu. I had no idea what any of these drinks were or what they tasted like. What would I like?
What would I learn was to my taste?
It’s one of the last clearer memories I had.
I don’t remember which drink I chose.
I do remember parts of everything else, sporadically, sometimes out of nowhere moments flashed back.
I wonder if it’s purely from my imagination, making the whole ordeal even worse – but I remember the strongest hands I’d ever felt in my life, werewolves, dragging me from the flashing lights and then a bag being shoved over my head. I remember their alcoholic wet-dog stink.
Then later, the smell and sting of pine needles. A musty mattress.
A question.
Alpha, why don’t you screw her first?
It’s the only line I remember, followed by hooting and words so vile my brain had blocked them out a long time ago.
Survival instinct had kicked in, and the rest was adrenaline.
It wasn’t one, it was many who violated me that night.
Then it was a metallic sting in my side… blood, cold plastic… dirt… everywhere, all around.
Good for nothing human. I remember that line, specifically after the knife was plunged in.
I come back to the present. The end was the part I thought about the most.
How being stabbed woke me up out of the delirium, just enough to see myself get buried alive.
Melody came and saved my life. An hour later. An eternity.
I’ve stopped breathing properly. I’ve sat down on a couch and stared across at the grey wall, and I don’t remember even moving down to the seat, and I get a shock when I see Melody standing in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, her eyes concerned.
“Hey,” she says, “It’s that time.”
“Did I forget to hang out the washing again?” I ask.
Melody cracks a smile, but she shakes her head, “No, Eliza… I’m thinking you should talk to someone.”
“I won’t talk to anybody,” I state, “I’m totally fine. B-but why – why are you b-bringing it up now?”
“I brought it up because there’s this new group… um…” Melody fumbles in her back pocket and approaches me, “I’ve heard it’s great therapy. Small numbers. Rape survivors exclusively. You won’t be called a devil’s child or a devil’s whore, by anyone, and each meeting…” Melody whispers that, she heard the accusations from my parents multiple times when they abused me over the phone, saying I smeared their families reputation. To them I was evil because I lost my virginity to rape and they believed it was deserved because I disobeyed them and went out ‘seeking sin’. Then when I had my son, I officially disowned them, about the same time they told me to never show my face again… “…you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, or you can leave, whenever you want, I’ll wait outside the doors if it doesn’t feel right… what do you think?” Melody continues but now I’m stuck in my head again, thinking deeply about my parents’ twisted faces when they found out I was pregnant. My mum had fainted. My father had dropped to his knees and cried.
Melody comes over and gives me the paper, pressing it into my hand, bringing me back to the present.
“Sorry,” I whisper, “Um… where is this group?”
I had stared at the walls in this house, my thoughts in loops for 5 years straight. Maybe it was time to try. I couldn’t keep thinking about my parent’s tears, as if my tears didn’t matter.
Melody’s eyes light up immediately. She takes out her phone and shows me the area. In the ‘Moon Tears’ recreational facility… for werewolves…
“Not humans?” I ask as Melody chews on her cheek, nervously brushing her ruddy red curls behind her ear.
“Mm, no, but… you’ve already said no to all the other groups I showed you, thought I’d try something different? It’s an art centre too and a library, it’s all glamoured behind what appears to be an abandoned warehouse. But it’s brand new and I can look after Jack while you go.”
Melody looks in pain, waiting for the rejection.
But…
..but this time…
This time I feel different about it.
“Sounds nice… Melody… I’ll go,” I say it, forcing the words off my tongue.
Melody pauses in shock that I agreed, then she embraces me in a hug to hide her tears and I get up off the couch and embrace her back.
She runs off to make a coffee, to let me process it.
I look at when the next meeting is on, printed on the paper…
…oh, tonight.
And it’s hosted by Seth Woodburn. A guy.
I guess I didn’t expect that a man would be running this, but I’m strangely not worried.
He has a nice smile, even though the picture is kind of blurry.
I hope Seth is softly spoken – because I’m sensitive to louder men. Just something I had grown an aversion too.
Any man who… who had a growl in his voice.
Melody was a werewolf and she could let a growl out if she wanted too, if she was protecting the kids. It was a distinct inhumane sound no human could make.
And those monsters that night all had that inhumane, supernatural ability to growl.
Aside from the alcoholic violence driven young wolves, werewolves were usually friendly people. Friendly only when one of their own was friends with you first. It would put their scent on you. Or if you mated to one, their scent clung to you and passed to the children. Scent was very, very important to wolves. Melody had tried to explain it many times, but I just didn’t get it. She always said Jack smelled like zest. My son was a beautiful boy with a big heart, overly compassionate, brave, a leader, a deep thinker.
I would never have seen my first child if Melody hadn’t pulled me out of the grave, my fingers barely above the soil. It’s what gave me away.
How was I going to communicate any of this?
I already feel my mouth sealing shut.
I vow not to say a word tonight. I would listen.
I hoped it would help me realise I wasn’t alone.
Mr. Woodburn… hmm… I’d stay only if I felt he could be trusted to learn my deepest darkest secrets.
I’d find out tonight at 7pm if I could find a place in my gut to trust a man again.
