chapter 2

Rachels POV

My stepsister leaned against my doorframe, staring at me. Almost as if she was challenging me to say something, but I didn't. Jessica loved to push my buttons. Harassing me is probably her favorite hobby of all times.

"Please, not today." I groaned as she walked in, looking at my room in disgust. She rarely comes in here. She says it's depressioning and basically a haunted storage space for unwanted things. Among those unwanted things would be me.

Jessica is a 1 year younger than me and the beloved daughter of my father and Beth. They view her as the "rightful" daughter since she was born between fated mates. She is beautiful, as much as I wish she looked like a troll, she doesn't. She has short blonde hair that she has in ringlets framing her face. Her almond shaped brown eyes that glared at me as she took another step closer. I study her as she enters my room, step by step. Jessica is taller than me, about 5'6" and much slimmer. Unlike me, who has a full bust and curvy hips, she has neither. She holds herself up high and could easily be a model in a normal human world. Her skin is unnaturally dark thanks to all her tanning. Godess, I wish she would realize she is going to look like a leather bag one day. I hold back a snort at my own internal jokes.

I wear mostly tee shirts and jeans. However, Jessica wears anything to keep her the center of attention. Today's fashionable choice is a silver sequence crop top, a pair of high waisted black pants, with a pair of black pointy toe high heels that look excruciating to walk in.

She walks over towards my bed and gives my nightstand leg a kick. I watch as my chapstick rolls off and lands on the floor near her feet.

"You know, if you wore real makeup, you might actually have a chance to look somewhat decent. Less of an embarrassment to the family." She said with a smirk.

I take in my appearance in the mirror across from me. I never wore makeup. I tried some once in middle school. I was given a little set from my best friend Joyce as a birthday gift. I was so excited to try it on that day. I remember running to my room and opening it up to find it in beautiful shades of green to match my eyes. Jessica happened to walk and see it, too. She grabbed it from my hands and began mocking the greens. Saying they looked cheap and some like vomit. She popped it open and rubbed some on my face before saying that it actually suited me well. I remember reaching for it before she tossed it on the floor and shattering all the colors together. "Opps!" Was the only thing said as she laughed before leaving.

I turned off the memory playing in my head.

I get up and make my way to my bed. I plop down and sink into the old soft mattress. I wish it would swallow me up and muffle out Jessica's babbling. I listen to her insults on how my hair is bland, my skin is too pale, and how not having a wolf is why I lack all physical appeal known to werewolves. I finally had enough.

"Jessica, why are you here?" I say as calmly as possible. The last time I raised my voice at her, she slapped me and threatened to ruin my hair while I slept. I can take a hit, but I don't need any lomg term physical changes to my appearance. The less attention I receive from the others in our pack, the better.

A snide smile takes over her face before she begins.

" I'm checking out my new closet."

I sit up and look at her like she has two heads. "Your new closet?" I repeated.

She walks around my room, lost in thought as if she's truly trying to imagine my room full of her skanky clothes.

"With you not having a wolf, you aren't one of us." She stated in a matter of fact way.

"I don't understand." I said slowly, watching her as she peels at my floral wallpaper.

" I overheard dad and mom talking about whether or not you should stay in the pack." She shoots me a hard look and smiles before turning back to inspect the wallpaper again.

"I was thinking hot pink would brighten up this room. Don't you agree?" She continued on while her words sunk into my brain.

I looked up at her from the edge of my bed.

"Jessica, that isn't funny." I said in almost a whisper.

Jessica tossed her golden ringlets over her shoulder and slowly turned around to address me.

"Oh, I'm not trying to be funny. I heard mom suggest that in a few months, when you turn 21, she wants you out of here."

She stared at me, proud of herself, no doubt. She was thrilled to be the first to tell me.