Chapter 3: So They Don't See Me

around 12 years had passed since that night.

The sunlight had just started to creep in through the window of the kitchen as I set down the coffee on the table, complete with my packed lunch and a single tray of breakfast. I was already dressed, ready, and was at the door just in time for my father to come thudding downstairs,

"Good morning father, your coffee is on the table," I greeted him curtly, not caring for the reply I knew was coming next,

He growled, "Don't you dare call me that, you are not my child, you Arctic!" he spat the last part as though it was a swear word, then took the coffee and downed it like he was taking a shot.

I roll my eyes, trying to keep the sarcasm from my voice as I say a pointless apology.

Immediately after, mother came downstairs and I repeated my greeting with the same fruity voice, "Good morning mother, your tray of breakfast is on the table,"

She takes it, looks at me and opens her mouth as if she wants to say something but then doesn't- as usual.

After that, I was quick to leave the house- the keyword being 'house' not 'home'.

Why? Because my house was my sanctuary but also my hell.

It was my sanctuary, by default, away from the threat of death by the hands of the Nightmare wolves that owned and roamed every corner of this place.

But it was my hell because, unlike the rest of the world outside, inside here, they knew what I was and it repulsed them.

My father downright hated my guts, stating that 'I'd be the death of him' and that 'he couldn't possibly be my father'. And my Mother's emotions often warred between her maternal love for me and the rage that I was at fault for her deteriorated relationship with Father, who genuinely believes that I'm not his.

When I was younger, I took to old books and research in hopes of finding a way to get to white wolf territory. But I didn't find one, obviously, because black wolves didn't want any of their kind accidentally crossing over to the white wolf territory and risk being killed so they'd rather nobody knew where it was so nobody would attempt to cross over, plus the Nightmare wolves' had patrols on their borderlines.

In other words, I was trapped.

But what I did find out was that, though it was something unimaginably, once in a million years rare, it was possible for two black-furred werewolves to have a white-furred biological child- which was exactly what happened in my case; both my parents were black wolves, loyal to their pack of Nightmares that owned this territory, the Shadow Pack.

For obvious reasons, being what I am, I'm not part of the pack and my parents managed to cover up the existence of me ever being born from the pack.

How? I don't think I want to know the cover-up story.

. . . . .

My locker clicked shut on queue, as the bell rang for class. But instead of moving forward towards the classrooms, like the red sea, everybody parted to the sides of the hallway.

Even though it's a daily occurrence, my body still quaked as they walked through the clearing the crowd of students had made for them. By 'they', I meant the Shadow Pack's Alpha-heir and his group of the strongest werewolves and his future pack warriors.

Our social status hierarchy in our school was obvious- obvious to those who weren't human- at the bottom, were the Humans, on top of them, were the 'Werebeasts', the shifters of all kind except white wolves obviously, and at the very top were the Nightmare wolves of the Shadow Pack.

And the one above all was their future alpha, the 'Arctics-Bane', Marcus.

Even to humans, Marcus looked unmistakably powerful and had a chilling unapproachable aura around him. though they just thought he was just some kind of super popular and cold bad boy type, there to be gawked at and idolized.

But despite the flocks of girls, of all kinds, who seemed all too ready to die happy as his mere shadow passes over them as he walked past, Marcus always seemed uninterested, never looking at the crowd that gawked at him with awe.

Not that I was in any way unhappy about it. Rather, it was a small mercy. He never took notice of anyone, let alone me, as I shivered at the sight of them. But of course, nobody ever noticed because, to them, I was just another human and to the world, I was invisible.

And I'd go to all great lengths to keep it that way.

After they'd gone, the rest of us began to move to our own respective classes. I was about to enter my classroom when six books came falling down in front of me but before they could hit the floor, I caught them all in my arms in blinding speed then quickly whipped around making sure that nobody was paying attention.

You could ask if I didn't want to get caught, why risk catching the books?

True, I could have left it to fall to the ground but it would come crashing down, right in front of me; which would cause a scene; which would draw attention. And I avoided attention by any means necessary.

I looked up to the direction the book came from, to see my teacher, Mr. Bennett, clumsily stumbling towards me,

"Ah thank you for helping me out... umm," 'Here we go, again, the guessing game,' I thought to myself trying to keep a smirk off my face for what was coming next, "...Rose ...Rita ...Rihanna-"

My name is actually Regina

"It's alright, don't bother trying to remember a name you never knew in the first place," I said, cutting him off.

I've spent 2 years in this school, in the same classrooms, with the same teachers, and even the teachers didn't know my name, let alone my classmates. For most people, that would be considered sad or borderline depressing.

But for me, it was a small price to pay to stay alive.

It meant I was doing a perfect job fading into the crowd, being invisible. I was safe from everyone this way because you can't really suspect someone you didn't even know existed, right?