1 One

Dreams reminded me of flashcards. Each with numbers or words or pictures and colors, flashed to the forefront of our brains, replaying like a videotape as we glide past the consciousness of the world with our eyes closed. They are like movies or better still, a visual representation of our memories, thoughts, and life in general. Both physical and beyond physical. Sporadically, we remember and sometimes we don't. In my case, I wish it would be the latter but unfortunately in the realm I existed as a mystical creature with nothing but an empty soul, I was always in the former, my dreams constantly replaying themselves even with my eyes open. The memory, never failing to co-exist amongst my other thoughts.

The sound of ripping echoed through the silent bathroom as I tear off another set of toilet paper to wipe away the blood that slipped out from my nose, before dumping it into the trash amongst the others. I looked like a nightmare, nothing close to the one I had a few moments ago, but a nightmare, nonetheless, with blood on my cloths and neck. With my hands on each side of the white sink already stained with droplets of blood on some parts, I looked into the mirror to access my state, and I was right; I did look like a nightmare. Even with my eyes that seemed more of an abandoned house void of any emotions with no light whatsoever, stuck around tall walls that would take a lot to bring down. I chuckled humorlessly at my reflection. Just one day, one freaking day and my life was ruined, destroyed and soon my mind was forced to replay those memories.

The day he stood to my face and roared out the words any creature like me dreaded to hear. It felt like the end had come, and the world began to roll, causing my heart to beat not so rhythmically, as I stumbled backwards with my body already processing pain. They were just words, ordinary words, but that was the problem; words aren't ordinary. No one ever realizes that emotional wounds are often worsened through neglect and jugular comments, until they are said. Hell could have been better for me.

That was the memory. That was the nightmare. And every single passing moment of my life since that day, I always remembered. I didn't want to, but I did, and I hated it, I hated him, I hated them, I hated me and I hated the world. My mere existence alone was a clear but confusing sign of my hatred.

My dreams were animals, always clawing their way through me like rusted nails, constantly pinning me to my bed as its energy would seep into my body like smoke bellowing beneath a door. It was painful and the waking up parts were dreadful. I always fought to breathe to free myself from its pointless rage and gasping with terror filled lungs to find a way back to wake. Every day and night, never ceased to make me replay that day in my head like a never-ending nightmare and pain, chanting the same thing and leaving another mark. Memories can be so brutal.

With sluggish steps as I dragged myself deeper into the bathroom to shower and get ready, I thought of what awaited me throughout the day. Not that I cared about school or education of any sort despite its importance, school was just a place that reminded me of my still beating heart and my pitiful existence. It reminded me of the word 'anisogamy', something the biology teacher never failed to mention in every of his class. It was overbearing but, at least, that made me feel. The school was of bricks, plants, and brains with my nickname always echoing through the halls among other words.

I never showed my face and luckily for me, no one bothered that much. At least not as much as the first time I joined, when people constantly threw questions towards me from every corner, about my everyday appearance. A hoodie that covered my face perfectly and a black mask for half of my face, which was creepy and not so humane, but I didn't care. I felt safer that way. And although it did cause tons of fights and arguments that almost put me in trouble, everything soon died down and as much as I was glad that it did, I didn't like the name that soon came up.

"Yo Ice, what's up?" Someone shouted from behind as I walked to school.

Yes, Ice. That was the name. It was actually 'the Ice queen', but people preferred 'ice' for a reason I never even bothered to find out. To me, it was weird but to them, it was…. I didn't even know. Thrilling? I guess. So thrilling that my actual name was long forgotten and the worst part, it wasn't just the students who called me that. The whole town did, so I never really had much of a choice except if I could go to every door step and remind them of my name and the last time I checked, the highest number of words I spoke were just four.

Considering that, I raised my hand and waved to whoever greeted without looking back.

Most of my mates drove past me to school as I walked like always and neither gave me a lift because, obviously, my answer was always as clear as the day. Besides, it wasn't like I didn't own a car, I just preferred to walk.

It didn't take too long before rows of different, expensive means of road transportation, came to my line of sight. A monument with the words 'Kingston High' mocked my lateness as I walked by but all I thought was how much the curve of the 'g' and the 'n', reminded me of a mausoleum, dedicated to a pirate. Face sulking, declaration of love, planning of which girl to take to the back of school, watching of those disgusting videos that makes stupid noises and many more, was all what, as usual, I listened unintentionally to, before reaching the steps that led straight into the school.

More greetings were thrown at me as I walked to my locker and I replied the same as always. Every so often a nod or a wave or just a simple 'hi' and all that never stopped me from wondering what in the world made me so golden in their eyes.

It wasn't hard to navigate my textbooks and the few materials I needed for the first four periods, with people still greeting from behind me. Like I somehow activated the school bell, it rang out loud immediately I slammed my locker closed, warning the students to clear the halls and go straight to class. While others were rushing around, I stayed put with my back against the lockers and my arms clutching my things tightly as I began a countdown in my head, waiting for the usual.

7…6…5…4…3…2...1.

"Amy!! Guess what, guess what, guess what" squealed an all too familiar voice from afar.

"What Nat?" I grumble out as I pushed myself to my feet as she got closer, before walking to class.

Nat, short for Natasha, is the only person who knew part of my story, if not all. Although everyone called us best friends, an endearment I wasn't used to, I never really knew where we stand and safe to say she was the first and last female of my specie that I ever kissed might I add, without my permission. A long story I wasn't ready to dive into, but at least the awkwardness that came from it soon sizzled out.

"I heard two new students have been transferred to our school, and do you know the juiciest part?" She said as she wiggled her eyebrows with too much glees "It's a boy and a girl. Hot ones for that matter. Oh my God,"

She added a twirl before landing almost too roughly on her seat.

"You haven't even met them yet" I said quietly under my breath but of course, her genes made her hear me

"I haven't met, but the things are, I've seen them. They came yesterday after closing hours to grab their schedules and locker keys, so I sneaked into the principals' office to get a better view. And damn was that view so good" she said. Leave it to my 'best friend' to do what a sane person would see as unthinkable.

Time passed by so fast that I almost felt like there wasn't any class, and soon every student dashed out of their classes without waiting for the teacher's permission to leave once the bell rang for a break. I wouldn't deny being part of the rush, and I compared our behavior to our label as seniors. Lunch happened to be the same as always, with me dumping my snacks into my bag and staring out the window as I sat by my empty table. Thankfully, people respected my personal space as well, except for Nat in most cases. Not that I minded, but I sometimes looked forward to days when she'd spend her lunchtime on other tables. Keyword on the plural form of the object, she reminded me of flies.

Another annoying part were the greetings, which I ignored most of the time. That was rude and mean of me, I know, I always knew, but I just couldn't push myself to speak nor mingle. It was better to ignore and leave people with their thoughts of how tough I am when, in reality, I was just holding on tenaciously, and I didn't know for how long. I could see the field from where I sat staring out the window, as well as males sporting themselves around with sweat dripping down their faces to soak their clothes, causing them to look as glorious as Aesculapius. Definitely not my words, but those of the girls in my class.

It was impressive to say the least, and so I watched until the bell jolted my mind back in place and caused everyone around, including me, to get up and move to the next class.

That was when I smelt it.

Like the ocean during sunset as the wind blows, like the cool breeze of winter and like my grandmother's oil, it somehow calmed me and brought a sense of peace to my mind, but that doesn't last as soon as another wave of scent flooded my nose. A different smell. One that I hadn't perceived in so many years of my existence, so I raise my head slightly and dared myself to look. I finally catch a sight without revealing my face completely and while foreign emotions rushed through me, only one question rang as loud as the school bell in my mind;

"Why is my wolf not doing anything?"....