Death. A common thing I’ve witnessed over the years of being alone. The first time I ever saw someone die was when I was eight. The first time I actually had to kill another? I was ten.
Being a rogue had never been simple for me. I was born into it, but my parents were forced into it. I remember my mom telling me stories from when she was in her old pack. She was the Luna, even though she was human.
Her Alpha had apparently never found his mate, so he chose her. He marked her and mated with her, tried desperately to make an heir with her, too. Then one day my father came along; her mate. They had an affair and had me. The Alpha found out I wasn’t his and banished them both from the pack when she was three months pregnant.
The years I actually knew my parents, they always blamed me for how their lives turned out. Said they should’ve gotten rid of me before anyone else could find out. Like, come on, it’s not the kids fault you got horny one night.
Finally, they had enough of the curse of a child brought onto them and ditched me far away from home at the good old age of seven.
I was confused, scared, and alone. I kept telling myself that it wasn’t real; that they’d be back for me. That hope quickly died out after the first couple of months when my first shift came, and I suffered alone.
That was my first near death experience.
I became a pro at hunting by the age of thirteen and when I hit sixteen, no one dared to challenge me. All the rogues knew who I was just by the dusty and scarred grey fur on my back.
That’s how I survived. By making everyone fear me and I liked it. I was alone and I didn’t have to depend on anyone. Nobody was with me to get in my way either. The only person I had to worry about, was myself.
One thing my rogue “friends” find strange though, I don’t kill innocent people like the rest. Though I am the craziest out of all of them, I still know right from wrong.
Love. Something I’ve never known. I see all these happy people in my pack with their mates and it just makes me mad. All I’ve ever dreamed about was my life with my mate. How I’d treat her like a queen, giving her whatever her heart desired.
I used to be happy seeing my pack members with their mates, but after seven years of trying to find your other half, you tend to grow a little bitter.
I started enforcing laws about public displays of affection. Meaning it’s not allowed. I became strict, tearing apart packs in search for my soulmate. I ended up becoming the most feared Alpha in the process.
Truth be told, I’m on the edge of giving up. I wasn’t even able to save myself long enough to meet my mate so would she even want me if I did find her?
Goddess, please help me.