Rosewood California…
Mackenzie came through the back door of the house. She had left for school on time, but since she
had an exam that she had not studied for, Mackenzie went to the mall for an hour, waiting until she
knew both of her parents would be at work. After an appropriate wait time, she bought a drink and went
home. She would spend the rest of the day watching TV and snacking. Neither of her parents would be
home until after 6:00 pm, so they would never know she had skipped.
Sure, the school had the policy to call home when a student was missing from class, but at the
beginning of the year, she had changed the number on her yearly file update to her cellphone. Since
the call was just an automated machine, the school would never know it wasn’t her parents, and her
folks would never receive the call. She was in the clear.
Walking through the front door, Mackenzie came to a sudden stop when she walked in on some
stranger on his hands and knees, trying to clean up a vast pool of blood. Turning her head, she saw
both her parents laying dead on the floor and rapped in the shower curtains the man on his knees had
taken from two of the three bathrooms in the house.
She looked back at the man, who seemed surprised to see her. Mackenzie dropped turned to run. The
stranger shot to his feet and chased after her. She ran out into the back alley and down to the main
street. The man was not far behind her. She saw a city bus at the nearby bus stop loading and
unloading passengers. She pushed herself faster and then forced her way onto the bus. Her school
bus pass was still clipped to her bag, so the driver did not stop her. She pushed her way to the back of
the bus as it pulled away, looking out the rear window at the man who had been unable to keep up.
She had managed to escape.
Mackenzie made her way to the closes police station and told them what she had seen. They sent a
squad car to the house to find her parents' bodies, but the killer had taken off once she got away.
Mackenzie spent the next three days in the police station describing the killer to a forensic artist and
telling the investigator what she had seen in detail. Children’s Services had come to collect her.
With her parents now dead and no close family, they were putting her in a foster home. Since she was
sixteen, she was unlikely to get adopted, but in two years, she would be on her own, so it wasn’t so
bad. With the killer still at large, the DA placed her in a home in Colorado and had changed her last
name. She would remain in protective custody until the suspect was found and arrested.
Mackenzie cried for days. In a matter of minutes, she had lost everything: her home, her parents, and
her very identity. Her life would never be the same.
***
Feral Colorado…
Gordon hit the floor hard, the back of his head bouncing off the tile floor of the kitchen. He lay there
momentarily blinded by the pain. Both his hands went to his head as if he could someone hold his
scrambled brains in. He grunted in pain when he took a swift kick to the ribs. The impact jolted him
hard and making him roll onto his side in the fetal position guarding his gut.
“You stupid, worthless waste of skin,” his wife Melissa hissed as she stood over him with the cast iron
pan. She’d hit him with still in her hand. “You’re a pathetic excuse for a man. I’m seriously fucking
amazed you manage to keep the pack in line when you are so pitiful. You’re not a man. You’re a sheep
in wolves' clothing,” she leaned over and hit him again with the pan in her hand.
Gordon could feel his right shoulder dislocate from the impact. He cried out in pain and rocked back
and forth as he lay battered, broke, and bloody on the floor. Finally, Melissa was so disgusted with him.
She placed the cast iron pan on the counter and stepped over him as she left the room. Gordon lay on
the floor, consumed by pain.
Gordon had been married to Melissa for years. When they were young, he had made the mistake of
getting her pregnant. He had chosen to do the right thing and married Melissa so they could raise their
child together. But it wasn’t long after their wedding that Melissa became abusive. It had started with
words and then the occasional shove and smack. Gordon never retaliated. He couldn’t. His father had
told him there was never any excuse that made hitting a woman ok. So, he just dealt with it as best he
could. But over the years, Melissa had become more violent, and the abuse had escalated.
Regretfully as a Lycanthrope, Melissa hit a lot harder than any mortal man. And thankfully, as a
Lycanthrope, Gordon healed quickly, so the bruises and cuts were gone quickly, so no one outside his
home knew that his wife beat him. If they did, Gordon would simply die of shame. The embarrassment
of being abused by his wife would make him look weak. He would lose control of the pack. After all,
what kind of man got smacked around by a woman. They would think him weak and pathetic. There
was far too much shame involved. He could never let anyone know.
Gordon rolled over and tried to push himself up on all fours, but a stabbing pain ripped through his
shoulder, and he whimpered. He lifted his head and looked up to see his 13-year-old daughter Aster
standing in the kitchen doorway, watching him in his state of shame. He saw sympathy in her eyes, and
it only made him feel worse. Aster came to his side. She crouched down to his level, eased his arm up
around her shoulders. She wrapped her arms around his waist and helped Gordon up off the floor.
She limped her father down the hall and up the stairs to his bedroom. She eased him down onto the
bed and helped tuck him in to make him comfortable. He just needed to sleep. His body repaired itself
faster when he rested. This time tomorrow, all his injuries would be gone as if they had never existed,
and no one would be the wiser.
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