Chapter One

Skyler’s POV 

"Skyler, come on, you don't want to be late for school," Mom's voice echoes urgently from downstairs, the sound of her hand hitting a metal object reverberating through the entire house. It's as if she's unaware of the discomfort it causes in both mine and dad's ears, or perhaps she intentionally does it to grab our attention. Either way, she knows how to make sure we're all aware of the time and the importance of being punctual for school." 

"Mom, I'll be there in a minute!" I shout in response, dragging myself out of bed and making my way towards the closet with a slight groan. My tired eyes scan through the clothes hanging in my wardrobe until they settle on a pair of soft black leggings and a loose-fitting shirt. Opting for comfort over style, I quickly change into this cozy ensemble, reminding myself that there's no need to impress anyone today. After a quick detour to the bathroom, where I brush my hair and effortlessly tie it up into a neat bun, ready to start the day.

School has become a place of dread for me due to the constant ridicule and mistreatment I receive simply because I don't fit the mold of what is considered "normal." My body type and skin color have become a source of mockery and it's disheartening to feel like I can't be accepted for who I am. Despite my efforts to fit in, I've come to the realization that conforming to the expectations of others is not worth sacrificing my own identity and self-worth. The cruel jokes and physical bullying have taken a toll on me and it's time for a change.

The relentless bullying they subject me to stems from their inability to accept my unique silver eyes, which are exceptionally sensitive to light and require me to wear sunglasses. Additionally, my skin tone, which is noticeably lighter than theirs, seems to be a constant source of discomfort for them. However, despite the hurtful treatment I endure, I choose to embrace my differences as they are what make me truly special. I refuse to allow their negativity to define who I am and instead, I strive to rise above their hurtful actions.

"Good morning, sweetheart. I hope you had a restful night," Dad greets me with a gentle kiss on my forehead.

Smiling at him, “Yes, I slept good. But why do I have to go back to this school? Everyone hates me and always hurts me!” 

“Why do you say that, young lady?” Mom says, while glaring at me. 

“Oh, I have no friends. I am made fun of, slammed into lockers, or beat up on.” I whine. 

“Did you speak with the Principal or the Alpha?” Dad inquires, his tone laced with anger.

“It's sad to admit, but I've lost faith in the principal. Every time something goes wrong, he's quick to point the finger at me, making me feel like it's always my fault. The thought of going to the Alpha only fills me with dread. Because I know they'll single me out and make me more of a target for their relentless scrutiny.” I confess with tears in my eyes. 

“If it gets worse, you need to say something to me and I will step in. You are my only daughter and no one gets away with hurting you!” dad exclaims, slamming his fist on the table, making me and mom jump. 

“Ok, hurry and eat before you leave for school. I also packed you a lunch with fresh rabbit and strawberries.” Mom says, smiling.

As I approach the refrigerator, my hand instinctively reaches for a blood bag, knowing that I need to warm it up in the microwave to make it more palatable. The chilling temperature of the blood is simply unappetizing, and I can't afford to let anyone catch a glimpse of my peculiar craving. In a hurry, I devour the blood, ensuring not a single drop is wasted, and discreetly dispose of the empty bag in a grocery bag. To maintain the secrecy of my unusual desire, I entrust the task of safely disposing the evidence to my mother, who remains oblivious to my mysterious yearning.

Just as I grab my bookbag to make the walk to school, dad stands up and hugs me before saying, “Remember, we have training this evening, so be home before dark.” 

“Sure, dad. I'm well aware of that, and I make it a point to be home right after school. I mean, why would I want to stay late, anyway? It's not like I have a bunch of friends waiting for me to hang out and cause trouble together,” I say with a hint of sarcasm in my voice.

“I love you guys, and please don't do anything I wouldn't do.” I say with a smirk. Because how else did they make me?

I stride purposefully towards the hallway, I swiftly snatch my trusty tennis shoes and settle down on the bench, eagerly preparing to slip them on. Once I've meticulously laced them up, I effortlessly slide into my jacket, embracing its comforting warmth, before finally hoisting my book bag onto my back. 

Stepping out into the world, I'm instantly captivated by the breathtaking expanse of the sky and the harmonious symphony of birdsong. However, amidst the serene ambiance, an unsettling feeling of apprehension creeps over me, as I reluctantly make my way towards school, fully aware that I might encounter the formidable "bitch squad".

The clique referred to as the "Bitch Squad" is comprised of women who are convinced that they have a shot with our alpha. They have a tendency to nitpick and gripe about anything and everything. It's almost as if they are unable to cope with the idea of someone else wearing the same clothes as them or even being in close proximity. They behave as though they might contract an infectious illness simply by sharing the same air.

As I approach the school, my heart skips a beat when a car zooms towards me, causing me to jump in surprise. And wouldn't you believe it? Right on time, the infamous "bitch squad" appears out of nowhere. Without any warning, they roll down their windows and maliciously throw their drinks at me before speeding off, leaving me completely soaked in a sticky mixture of coffee and soda. Just as I attempt to wipe my face clean, a faint scent of blood reaches my nostrils, causing me to let out a frustrated sigh. Is it too much to ask for a day without any mishaps or injuries?

Do you ever find yourself constantly having to bring spare clothes to school or keeping them in your locker? It seems like I'm always changing my outfit multiple times a day because the popular kids and the mean girls always manage to ruin my clothes. They tear them, spill things on me, or even spray me with their preferred fragrance, claiming it's better than my natural scent. It's incredibly frustrating, and I can't help but wonder if there are others who experience the same thing.