The idea of dying... it's like staring into a dark abyss, wondering what lies beyond. Am I ready for it? Is anyone ever truly prepared to let go of everything they know? It's as if life is this intricate tapestry, woven with memories, experiences, and dreams, and death is that final thread that could unravel it all.I've heard people say that death gives life meaning. That the inevitability of our mortality forces us to seize the fleeting moments and savor them. Is that why we laugh, love, and strive to make a mark? To counteract the impending darkness?But what if it's not about the mark we leave, but the mark we've made on ourselves? Like, how every heartbreak, triumph, and mistake molds us into this intricate sculpture of a person. And maybe death is the moment when we step back and see the whole masterpiece.It's terrifying, though. The unknown. The thought of losing consciousness, of the world carrying on without me. Will I be forgotten? Will my laughter fade into the wind, like
I can't help the grin as it stretches across my face. Even when I tone down my teeth display for the camera, my giddiness makes my grin return to its full glory.These are the kind of joyful moments in life when everything aligns perfectly, and the future gleams with a brilliance that outshines the sun.Similar to tiny fireflies, the fairy lights surrounding us emit a soft glow in the approaching evening. My gaze shifts to the rows of people smiling and mingling, the white roses gathered in their transparent vases, the band playing an old classical melody that Akio Kamio has cherished for most of his life, and ultimately to Bibah's radiant smile, outshining even the stars in the sky.Bibah stands gracefully in her wedding gown, a vision of elegance and modesty. The gown's creamy hue complements her radiant complexion, and the intricate lace patterns and delicate beadwork trace enchanting designs across the fabric.Her head is adorned with a delicate hijab, carefully draped to frame her
The realization hits me like a fast train colliding with a building made of glass. Everything in me feels like it’s fracturing, shattering, rearranging itself into something; an undeniable fact entirely out of my expectation. Ben is not my mate. No, and that’s not even the worst of it.I want to run. I want to turn around and bolt far away from the dark woods; from William Ravenstone; from the truth, but I can’t will myself to move. My heartbeat thunders and disbelief along with something akin to grief twists my throat viciously. Finally, he turns to look at me, and I see the realization cloud his face just as it had done mine seconds ago. “You.” He lets out in a breath, thick eyebrows furrowed and sensual lips pulling down into a frown of disgust. The moonlight soaks his dark brown hair as he runs a hand through it, pulling at the strands. When he speaks again, his voice is ragged, almost tortured. “Isabella...” It’s the second time he has used my name and I feel a delicious shiv
I’m positive the blood in my veins has been replaced with vodka, but I’m fine with it. That’s all everyone is passing around; red cups spilling with ice and the clear alcoholic liquid; some of it flavored, most of it not.I stumble off the makeshift dance floor, zigzagging through sweaty bodies pressed up against each other; gyrating and dancing. The music is loud —too loud; a trending pop song that’s making my ear drums complain and my dull headache intensify. The cramped classroom reeks of alcohol, body odor, and teenage desperation. The disco lights overhead makes everything worse; bathing the classroom in pulsating rainbow colors, making everyone look like fucking clowns.“Bella?” Camilla calls, stumbling towards me with a drunken pout, trying to reach out for my shoulder. She hiccups and takes another swig from the red plastic cup in her hand. “Where?” She drawls, too wasted to even make sense.I slid open the window, momentarily appreciating the view of the moon and the gust of
I’ve heard the rumors.Of course I’ve heard the rumors. At Acadia academy, even the deaf hear the rumors, and there are a lot; most of them true, some of them downright outlandish. But right now, the rumors I’d heard about William Ravenstone begin to suspiciously make sense. Drugs and alcohol weren’t things that harmfully affected teen werewolves, unless one had a genetic disorder, but this fact didn’t make addicts in the community any less marginalized.I press a palm to my forehead, huffing out a breath and running a shaky hand through my hair. The vodka is really beginning to take over. I glare back at William. There are many things that annoy me in this world, but up there in my top ten are people who can’t own up to their shit. “A few broken bones, so what? I’d heal.” I reply, stumbling and peeping over the edge of the ledge, down to the darkness below.I shudder to think how things might’ve gone if he hadn’t pulled me back.I would heal, yes, but it’d be a hell of a painful expe
Mrs. Matilda; the dorm supervisor of House Hera or as we call her; the watchdog, doesn’t ask me a single question as I enter the halls of House Hera; soaked and shivering from walking the short distance from the main grounds to the dorms. One look at my face, and she could tell that I’m in a sour mood, and although she’s supposed to have the authority, Mrs. Matilda already knew how the routine was with me. It starts with a question and ends with me blackmailing her into letting me off the hook.I trudge up the silent stairs to the second floor and curse all curse-able things as I keep failing at sticking my key into the keyhole before I finally get the damn thing in and swing the door open.“You heard me struggle and you didn’t open it?” I shoot at Evin Vandran, my roommate.She is sitting in a binder and yellow boxers, holding a paintbrush, layering cyan paint on the blue tumultuous sea roaring to life on her canvas. “Hello to you too.” She answers, swiveling in her small chair to fa
I’m standing in the woods, in front of William Ravenstone.The trees around us loom in like lingering shadows of the dead, but my focus is not on them. It’s a full moon; the sky clear and starless. Chilly wind whips through my hair, tugs at my shirt –the same one I’d gone to sleep in.Something has made William angry. He is breathing heavily, fists clenched tightly, shirtless and shaking.“Isabella?” He says through panted breaths.Despite that wild stare and the way his body throbs with aggression, when he speaks, none of it comes through. His cheeks are dark from exertion; mouth slightly parted as each heavy breath pumps from his lungs, struggling to maintain control. “You shouldn’t be here.”I manage to unglue my feet and start toward him. He seems to brace himself as I move closer, hands on hips, back and shoulder stiff. When I stop in front of him, he directs his eyes at the ground. “William?” He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak. Reaching out, I touch his arm. “Liam?”He jolts, muscle
“Textbooks out, page two hundred and thirteen; Werewolf and human diseases. Last class we learned how certain diseases, disorders or infections that are usually human-coded can affect werewolves despite the supernatural healing ability of the latter.” Mr. Ortega briefs, his cold gaze sweeping over the class. “Rogers, discard that gum.” Andy Rogers mumbles something under his breath but takes out the gum frowning, before sticking it under his table with zero shame or a sense of hygiene. Next to me, Bibah continues to chew her gum silently. “Today, we are going to delve deeper into the Wolverine anti-gene.” Mr. Ortega continues, setting up his sleek black computer and connecting it to the class projector. “The Wolverine anti-gene makes up seventy eight point three percent of our body’s defense mechanisms and —“ The door creeks open, cutting him off and for a moment my heart skips a beat, thinking its William, but then Ben walks into the class and guilt follows
I can't help the grin as it stretches across my face. Even when I tone down my teeth display for the camera, my giddiness makes my grin return to its full glory.These are the kind of joyful moments in life when everything aligns perfectly, and the future gleams with a brilliance that outshines the sun.Similar to tiny fireflies, the fairy lights surrounding us emit a soft glow in the approaching evening. My gaze shifts to the rows of people smiling and mingling, the white roses gathered in their transparent vases, the band playing an old classical melody that Akio Kamio has cherished for most of his life, and ultimately to Bibah's radiant smile, outshining even the stars in the sky.Bibah stands gracefully in her wedding gown, a vision of elegance and modesty. The gown's creamy hue complements her radiant complexion, and the intricate lace patterns and delicate beadwork trace enchanting designs across the fabric.Her head is adorned with a delicate hijab, carefully draped to frame her
The idea of dying... it's like staring into a dark abyss, wondering what lies beyond. Am I ready for it? Is anyone ever truly prepared to let go of everything they know? It's as if life is this intricate tapestry, woven with memories, experiences, and dreams, and death is that final thread that could unravel it all.I've heard people say that death gives life meaning. That the inevitability of our mortality forces us to seize the fleeting moments and savor them. Is that why we laugh, love, and strive to make a mark? To counteract the impending darkness?But what if it's not about the mark we leave, but the mark we've made on ourselves? Like, how every heartbreak, triumph, and mistake molds us into this intricate sculpture of a person. And maybe death is the moment when we step back and see the whole masterpiece.It's terrifying, though. The unknown. The thought of losing consciousness, of the world carrying on without me. Will I be forgotten? Will my laughter fade into the wind, like
The mountain top stretches out before us, bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight. Jagged rocks and hardy shrubs dot the landscape, offering scarce cover. The air is crisp and thin, carrying with it a sense of anticipation. A veil of darkness conceals the treacherous precipices that lie beyond the edges.My heart races as we stand on the precipice, the night sky a blanket of twinkling stars above. The wind whispers of secrets yet to be revealed, as William's gaze scans the vast expanse. This was the kind of place he used to love—a rooftop under the sky.His eyes narrow, a flicker of recognition passing over his features, like a spark trying to ignite a long-dormant memory. I hold my breath, hoping that this moment will be the catalyst, the key to unlocking the past he's lost.Before my thoughts can fully settle, a guttural shout splits the air, shattering the tranquility. My head snaps towards the disturbance, and my heart lurches as seven figures emerge from the shadows, armed wi
“Are you sure this is the place?”“Absolutely.” I whisper back at William, uneasily glancing around the empty expanse of the beach. It feels like we’re about to break into a bank and steal cash. “Unless she invited me for breakfast in a friend’s apartment, then I guess we’ll be knocking on a strangers door.” I add in a rush of huffed out breath.William looks skeptic. “Isabe-”I step forward and press the ringer, cutting off William’s words. Time had passed us by while on the boat, and now it’s past the normal curfew of the resort. The demarcated areas outside the resort -including the mountain we’d impulsively decided to go to- were now closed off for the day. Since Tamie has been here her whole life and her family owns the resort and I somewhat feel as if we’re friends now, I thought that maybe asking for her help would be a good idea.Silence continues to answer me.“Mochi definitely came out of here.” I mutter, frowning at the whole modern shack like it had personally offended me.
“Maybe we should call it a win win and stop here.” I suggest, leaning back as the last few chuckles escape me, my laughter finally subsiding.William raises a triumphant eyebrow as he rearranges the chess pieces back to their normal starting formation. “Giving up already?” He taunts, smirking.“You wish.” I reply, rolling my eyes before sighing. “I’m just tired of staring at the pieces.”We have been playing cheating chess since after breakfast when I got back to the suite from my conversation and walk with Tamie. William had brought his chess board along from the pack estate, and had suggested we play it, in hopes that he might remember something again. There has been no luck in that area, but at the very least, we’ve had an unexplainable amount of fun as the hours flew by. We fixate on morals of the game, creating new rules, and finding more ridiculous ways to justify breaking the classical rules of chess.The sun is setting now, painting our beach-side view of the window a brillian
The very next morning, I wake up early, get out of the ball dress I ended up sleeping in, and took a quick shower, changing into more comfortable beach shorts and a loose tank top.When I leave the bedroom, William is still curled up in the sheets, sleeping. I call the room service and other an elaborate breakfast, hoping to return the heartwarming gesture he had done to me when we got here.Out of the breakfast of waffles, fruits, and a jug of a fancy cocktail blend fresh from the Island’s own produce, I only manage a single waffle before leaving the suite and closing the door softly behind me.Now, where the heck do I start looking for Tamie?I go out to the beach, taking the trail where William and I had first seen her walking her Pekingese dog. Well, more like where we saw her dog about to drown and rescued him.It’s a sunny day, the sand warm as the soft, fine grains slip in and out my flip flops. The ocean’s waves laps eagerly at the shore, and I squint into the far distance, in
Leaving the chaotic ballroom behind, we retreat to the quiet safety of our room. The tension of the night still lingers between us, though now it's wrapped in a cocoon of slight awkwardness.William doesn’t say anything, still steaming with remnants of his anger, and neither do I, as we enter the bedroom and he shrugs off his jacket. I notice a few specs of blood staining the front part of his white shirt.“You shouldn’t have done that.” I sigh, retrieving a first aid kit from a nearby drawer, sitting him down at the edge of the bed and gently begin tending to the cut on William's lip, my touch both soothing and reproachful.He winces at the disinfectant that touches the small split flesh where the silver rings had made impact."Oh, now you can feel pain?" I chide softly, dabbing the wound with an antiseptic swab. "Stop being such a baby. I know you were defending me, but there are better ways you could’ve handled the situation."Like poisoning the bastard.Or gutting him in a dark al
We spend the rest of the night and the following day simply talking and exploring. William asks a lot of questions about our time in Acadia Academy, and I try my hardest to answer him to the best of my ability, although none of my answers end up triggering his memory.Soon, the night of the ball arrives.Preparing for the ball is a whirlwind of anticipation and excitement. The vibrant energy that courses through me is infectious as I carefully choose my attire for the evening; my makeup already done and my hair painstakingly pinned up into an updo. The dress, a delicate masterpiece of flowing midnight blue silk, shimmers with an iridescent glow in the soft light of our suite. Its off-shoulder neckline adds a touch of elegance, and the intricate lacework along the bodice and hem hints at the craftsmanship that went into its creation. With every twirl in front of the mirror, I feel like a character from a fairytale.I don’t even remember when I bought the dress.The air is electric as I
I gradually stir from my peaceful slumber, the room cast in a gentle twilight as the sun dips below the horizon.I yawn.How long have I been asleep?As I stretch and sit up, I notice a beautifully arranged plate of dinner on the nearby table and a goofy smile overtakes my face. William must’ve kept it there for me. I glance around the bedroom and the living room for the second time, looking for him, but I don’t spot him anywhere.Where did he go?My stomach rumbles in response to the inviting aroma of the garlic butter stake and potato skillet, and I find myself savoring the delicious flavors as I sit at the edge of the bed with the tray and devour the food.Sated and content, I decide to take advantage of the cool evening air and to also look for William. I change out of my t-shirt and jeans into sleeping shorts and a bralette, despite the cool weather. The sliding glass door leads me to the terrace, where the world is adorned with the soft glow of moonlight. My gaze is drawn to the