Winston Churchill once said: “If you’re going through hell, keep going.” Even though everyone thinks that I am oblivious to it, this saying has gradually became the motto that the members of The Open Wound pack follow and believe in over the past couple of years. Deep down inside I feel guilty because even though no one will say it to my face, I know that I am the reason my people, the ones who live under my wing, are being punished for a crime I , and I alone, committed. Now, the place they once called home has turned into a huge cell, one they chose to be locked up in out of loyalty to me.
Even though I am daily accompanied by that culpability, I never regretted my decision to do what I did. If I am given the chance, I would do it again because while many would argue that what I did was a monstrous act, it was the only way I could show my people that I am devoted to them, the only way I could deliver justice to them. Moreover, it was the right thing to do as a leader. And while I hate myself for it, I felt relieved that they too were faithful to me. After all, they lost their freedom because of their loyalty to me.
It has been five years since the day I was proclaimed a disgrace to the werewolf community, the day I became the big bad wolf parents would tell their children stories about, the day I got cursed by the moon God himself. Regardless, that day is printed in my memory as if it occurred last week.
Despite losing my once honorable and candid reputation, I obtained a valuable lesson: it is not about what is easy; it is about what is right. It is a known lesson, one that is taught all around the world, but it can only be truly learned when one is met with cruel circumstances. In addition, doing what you believe is right usually requires a tremendous sacrifice, but it is one worth making.
Every night, before I close my eyes and go to a world far better than the one I live in, I stare at the red ceiling of my room and think about many things; thousands of things.
I think about the treaty that got signed a long time ago, even before I was born. When I was a kid, my mum would tell me stories about the legendary treaty that occurred hundreds of years ago between the werewolves and the witches. The story goes, that after a millennia of war between the two factions, the Amazonian warriors, females who swore to dedicate their lives to serve the supernatural nations by being the ones who maintain discipline and law, decided that they should help create a new age of harmony between the two species. Hence, they arranged meetings between the werewolf alphas and the witch regents. The meetings kept occurring for almost eleven years until finally the perfect negotiations have been accomplished. Consequently, the perfect contract was been made, and on the 14th of July 1364 the treaty was signed. It has many items, the most important of them encompass:
- Covens, or lone witches, can choose to live with a certain pack within the borders’ of the pack’s territory.
-Killing anyone within the two factions is absolutely forbidden unless it happens within a trail held by Artemis’ warriors.
-Both factions are obligated to aid each other in times of crisis.
-Monthly meetings are to be held to assure the efficiency of the agreement.
-Marriage between a witch and a werewolf is decidedly forbidden.
Everyone has been surprised that the treaty has lasted this long, and I cannot help but wonder how my life would have been right now if it did not exist. After all, it is because of that useless signed piece of paper that I am now, along with my entire pack, trapped in our territory; we have been unable to leave for the past five years.
I think about many other things; I get lost in the dangerous path of what ifs. The little possibilities that can modify many parts of my life; dreams that deep down I know will never happen. One of these dreams is to one day clear my name without being obliged to abandon any of my beliefs or principles. Sadly, the alphas need to be authentic and veracious in order for this to happen. Another dream of mine is to find my mate; my luna, but I am twenty five years old which means I have run out of time to find her. Werewolves often find their mates between the ages of eighteen and twenty five. Still, that does not stop me from fantasizing about having someone who I can call mine and I hers; someone who would disregard my notorious reputation and love me unconditionally. I imagine someone who would make me want to live and hold me tight when I am in despair. Against both my better judgment and instincts I refuse to relinquish this particular dream. One day, I will find my mate, one day I will be happy.