Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

LENA.

The ride back home was silent, save for the occasional honks of vehicles driving through the intersection. My earbuds were driven into my ears while I listened to rock music to drown out my intrusive thoughts. The thoughts of my mother's very mysterious death and that of the very eerie discovery I had experienced from last night, kept clashing. It felt like a war was going on inside my head as several trains of thoughts fought for dominance.

Even while the rock music played, it couldn't scramble off the discovery I had made today. I could still picture the face of great awe on the Pack witch's face after I narrated my ordeal to her. How her expression morphed from awe to ardor; like she had found a rare gem.

I mean, it wasn't far from the discovery she made.

I, Lena Hales, a white wolf. A seeming rarity. I had never heard of white wolves. Maybe if I paid more attention in Lycan History class or read more books about our origin, I would have gotten an idea.

I made a mental note to visit the library once I resumed school. Though the pack witch had given me a deep explanation of what I was, I still felt like I hadn't gotten enough. My greed for the knowledge of who I was heightened as the bus drew closer to our town. It was a mixture of intense curiosity and excitement.

Finally, the bus cruisd to a halt and I stood from my seat, squishing past standing passengers as I made my way out of the bus. I jumped down while holding my hood from falling off. Wouldn't want to scare people and get strange glances. I was too tired for that.

The sun had set about an hour ago, fading into the horizon as it welcomed the gloomy darkness of twilight.

As I walked past the bus stop, I made a turn and began walking down the lane that led to my home. It was situated at the far end of the lane. A medium-sized, semi detached house. The streets were empty, void of cars.

It felt like a dark energy was hovering in the air. Waiting for the right time to descend on an unfortunate individual. My footsteps quickened as I felt a wave of intense dear wash over me and I broke into a trot, not stopping till I got to the wooden gates of our home. I pulled the latch and walked in before locking it and walking up the front porch.

From the looks of it, sympathizers had already left. The door was closed and there were no cars parked on the driveways, nobody standing at the porch with a glass of wine in their hand and speaking in low tones about the suddenness of my mother's death. The tenseness left my body.

The house was dark, save for the dim light coming from the kitchen. I stopped halfway and leaned against the wall. Things are different now.

I didn't hear the voice of my mother on the phone with one of her friends. My younger brother, Jason wasn't running towards me to welcome me and ask if I had gotten candies from him. My father wasn't also here to give me a kiss on the forehead before asking where I was off to.

They were probably upstairs and I had to speak to them. They had to know. This wasn't something I could hide from them, thanks to the very obvious ashiness of my hair.

Like I thought, I found my father in his room. Jason was on the bed beside him, fast asleep. As soon as I walked in, he placed an index finger on his lip. I nodded and stood at the edge of the bed.

Slowly, he pulled out his hand from behind Jason's neck, careful enough not to upset him and soon, he was climbing out of the bed and walking towards me.

He looked really messed up. His shirt was buttoned to the wrong places and his hair was a messy pile above his head. His beards were starting to grow out and he had dark circles.

"He's been crying nonstop," Father said as we walked out of his room. He shut the door gently and led the way downstairs. "I shouldn't have let him see your mother's dead body. He is greatly traumatized,"

I swallowed the bout of sobs that threatened to escape my throat as my eyes brimmed with tears. Throughout the day, I hadn't thought so much of her. I was occupied with the new change I was experiencing but hearing that she was dead all over again, it sent a terrible wave of sadness over my body. The realization was too vivid and painful, It washed me down like a tsunami, crashing into a small town and destroying everything— my defenses and failed attempt at being strong for everyone.

My father pulled me to his side and we both stopped walking. I began to sob uncontrollably as tears poured down my cheek. The news hit me so hard right now. It felt like someone was hammering away at my heart and tearing out the healthy remains just to make me incapacitated. I slid to the ground and cradled my knees to my chest as I tried to stop the burning sensation in my chest, tried to gather the fragments of what was left of my broken heart.

"She's really gone," I sobbed. "Every time I think about it, it hits me so hard. So so hard. To think that I won't wake up to her voice from the kitchen, asking me to come down to get breakfast,"

"Lena..." My father began. I looked up at him to see him staring down at me, his eyes wide in shock. "What did you do to your hair? Don't tell me it's something that got triggered by your mother's death because I wouldn't be pleased!"

I wrapped my fingers around the wooden banister and pushed myself off the floor. Shaking my head, I spoke with a hoarse voice. "No. This is not something I did out of the influence of my grief," I snorted. "We need to talk. It's really important."