"Get your lousy carcass out of bed before I beat you black and blue!"
I groaned as I forced my eyes open, my father's voice bringing me out of the skimpy sleep I'd managed to garner. As I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, the sun seemed to strike me dead in the retinas, and I groaned again as I tossed the ratty blanket aside. It was looking to be another scorching day, and I repressed another groan. "I'm up!" I shouted, hoping to stave off my daily belting across the hips. It didn't work, of course. No matter what I did, no matter how obedient I was, I could never avoid getting a walloping from my father, and I hissed in pain ten minutes later as the hot water hit the fresh welts on my skin.
"Stop whining," my mother ordered, glaring at me. "You deserved it for giving your father that attitude. Now hurry up, and don't use up all the hot water again."69Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiCspWHYQjm
I just managed to refrain from grimacing. "I'm sorry," I said meekly.
My mother snorted in disbelief. But she blessedly didn't say anything more, and I was able to finish my shower in peace without her usual plethora of cutting remarks. But she wasn't gentle as she toweled me dry, and I had to really keep from crying out in pain as she dressed me.
That's right; at the age of sixteen, my mother insisted on dressing me, as if I was still a child who didn't know what went where. I'd tried telling her that I could dress myself, but the one time I'd managed to stand up to her, she'd made me go naked, forcing me to do all my tasks in nothing but my birthday suit, hitting my hands whenever I tried covering myself. I had no right to feel ashamed, she'd told me coldly, and all I had to do was apologise for being so "disrespectful". I'd been forced to go on bended knee when I finally did apologise, and even then she'd withheld her "forgiveness" until she was satisfied that I was humbled.
After that, I never dared protest her treatment of me, figuring that letting her dress me was the lesser of two evils. Being forced to go naked all day had been a bone-deep humiliation that I didn't care to repeat again, no matter how much it galled me to have my mother choosing my clothes for me. And she always made sure to choose the most unflattering garments she could find. I didn't need to ask why; she didn't want me forming friendships with boys. No one, she'd told me, would ever want me; I was skinny, with mousy brown hair and nondescript hazel eyes, and, above all else, I was a freak.
It sucked being a werewolf in a completely human family.
"Get downstairs," my mother ordered me when she was finished. "You're going to be late enough as it is; I won't have you lingering at the breakfast table. You can get a piece of toast on your way to the car, but don't you dare get crumbs on the upholstery again."
I ducked silently downstairs, seething as I grabbed the promised piece of toast. I didn't have enough time to do more than butter it, but I was grateful nonetheless to be allowed a small bit of sustenance to get me through to lunchtime, and I ate the toast in record time as I snatched up my bag and hurried out to the car. It was already quite warm, but when my mother got in the car, she spitefully left the windows rolled up, as she always did whenever the weather was hot. I didn't let it bother me too much; I could regulate my temperature so I didn't melt in a puddle of sweat, but I made sure not to let any relief show. If my parents ever found out I was using my abilities against their wishes, they'd make my life a hell worse than the one in which I was living. I was never allowed to shift or go for a run, and I was forbidden from dreaming my way out of the house. My parents couldn't police my dreaming, of course, but I was so scared of discovery that I never dared go against them, for fear they'd work out I'd had a blissful night away from their torment.
That didn't stop me from small, discreet moments of rebellion, though.
We reached the school in silence, but as per her instructions, I stayed in the car until my mother came and opened the door for me. She guided me firmly past the knots of students and into the office, where I was told to sit until the first bell for class. I did as I was told, grateful that at least some of her controlling ways were benefiting me; I didn't like any of the students, and they'd made it clear from the moment I'd enrolled the feeling was mutual.
It sucked being a werewolf in a completely human school.
The first bell eventually rang, but I had to wait until Miss Smith came to escort me to my first class. I was never allowed to go to or from class without a teacher on attendance, and during lunch, I was always made to sit in the office until the bell for the next class rang. Nor was I allowed to participate in "fun" classes - it was either maths, English, history, or half a dozen other "boring" subjects. But I actually took pleasure in these, and my grades could not be faulted, much to my teachers' surprise. They, at least, were pleased with my progress, but my parents never found anything good in the consistently solid grades I brought home. Beatings and meal-skipping often followed each return home, but I didn't care too much, instead using the time to further improve my grades, not that my parents ever cared.
"Attention, class."
My ears perked up as Mr Gladstone addressed us. "It has come to my attention that some students have formed a 'union' in the pursuit of their misguided bullying of another student," he said. "I am displeased, as you can imagine. No one should be singled out for who they are, and when I find the ringleaders, I shall make all efforts to ensure their little 'union' is disbanded, and I shall strongly encourage them to refrain from future efforts."
Dead silence greeted this announcement, and I felt the glare of several angry students at my back. I'd never "dobbed" anyone in - "snitches get stitches", so I was told - but my teachers had my back, and clearly word had gotten to them of this latest tactic to have me ground right into the dirt. "Furthermore," Mr Gladstone added, directing a fearful glare of his own at the angry students behind me, "I have spoken to several parents, who are all very disappointed in their childrens' activities. We are all equal here, and the sooner this behaviour is stamped out, the better. Now, let's focus on today's topic, which is, appropriately enough..."
His words were drowned out by an angry buzz, but Mr Gladstone's eyes seemed to spark as he directed his gaze at the dissenters, who shut up, though not without the silent promise of retribution. I idly wondered what it would be this time, and almost had to laugh at myself for placing bets as to what fresh hell my tormentors would use on me. Sometimes, though, placing bets was the thin line between me keeping sane and losing what was left of my mind. 69Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCFgf0HZOeG
69Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIFZPuMnRbF
