There must be something wrong with me.

“I wouldn’t exactly call this a little disagreement,” he murmurs, then whirls to face me. My heart begins to beat faster, and I suddenly find it hard to breathe. How can one look affect me this way? “I’m going to take her to the orphanage,” he suddenly spurts, taking my arm and dragging me along with him. I can feel his harshness, so different from the gentle touches I am used to. His movements are stiff and brisk, each step robotic. Even his grip on my arm is strange, so tight that it almost cuts off my circulation.

We pass through the old fashioned corridors into the beautiful lobby. I gaze at the spectacular artwork, yet being careful not to look above. For if I do, I might burst into tears. Xavier doesn’t seem to notice my sudden insecurity, his expression unchanging.

He pulls me to the bridge, forcing me to cross it with him. I think of earlier, when Xavier was smiling and laughing with me as we first reached this place. It seems so distant now, like the whisper of a memory that is on the brink of fading away.

We walk for a little while, his grasp tightening. It feels like it is going to explode; my hand, my whole body, and my heart. I am scared of this stranger, this man full of uncertainty and worry. The care free version of Xavier, the guy that is so naive, is the one I… just might be falling for.

Suddenly a flashing pain enters me, his grip suddenly bone breaking in strength. “Let go of me!” I scream, my voice filled with pain and anguish. Crumpling to the ground, I cradle my hand with the other, letting the life flow back into it.

Xavier turns, startled, and I just stare.

He runs to me, bending down so his handsome face is at eye level. “Did I hurt you?” he asks, his face flushed. I gaze at him, tears brimming at the corner of my eyes. Slowly I let them fall, running down my face in rivers.

“I’m so sorry…” he murmurs, sweeping me into a hug, his touch now like before. After a minute, he pulls away, and I notice that his face mirrors my own, tears staining his cheeks also. Strangely, I laugh. I can finally see him.

This is the man I know.

“You are better now!” I smile through my tears, “I don’t mind the hurt, as long as you are okay.”

What am I saying? I must be going crazy.

Xavier looks at the floor, his unnaturally long eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “I’m so sorry, Mona,” he apologizes, a hint of sadness in his tone, “it is just that I’m worried about how this is all going to turn out. I want you to be safe more than anything.” He finally lifts his head at these words, his face contorted in a scowl, “and Ray cares nothing for your safety. He is a heartless werewolf, Mona, more than anyone else.”

“Then why did you take him in?”

“Because he is a Beast Talent,” Xavier shakes his head, “and because he is my twin brother. I can’t turn away family.”

I reel back from his words. They are very identical, but their personalities are so different that it is somehow difficult to believe. I suppress a heavy yawn, and Xavier chuckles quietly.

“Let’s get you home.” Picking me up in his tender embrace, he begins to zoom through the forest, everything a blur. I let my eyes close, feeling more comfort than I have in a long time. Why does Xavier always do this to me?

After a short while, we reach the ugly orphanage—a collage of graffiti, brick, scattered paint, and rough landscaping—and halt. I scan it quietly, taking in the two stories of misery, the windows that are commanded to be shut always, the old door that barely swings on its hinge.

“Thank you Xavier,” I smile, though suddenly feeling fear. Ms. Penn is going to kill me for being out so late. My walk becomes a soldier’s, knowing that each step leads me to certain death, or sometimes torture.

Xavier vanishes, making me feel more alone than ever. I never thought I would miss his desire to follow me absolutely everywhere, but now, a pit of nervousness builds in my stomach. What is Ms. Penn going to do to me?

With shaking fingers, I slide the door open, only to fall prey to the vicious beast. There Ms. Penn stands, her face contorted in anger, her hair frazzled and messy. “Where have you been?!” she roars, grabbing me in the arm so tightly that I wince. My head shakes as she drags me over to the kitchen. With long, switch-like fingertips, she slashes me, slapping my skin with all her might. Pain erupts, vivid, dastardly hurt that spreads throughout my entire body like wildfire. She smirks as the blood starts to appear, staining my tomato red cheek. “People shouldn’t have to worry about you,” she snarls, “you are too useless and ugly for them to waste their time over.”

I bend my head, hoping to avoid another terrible slap, my tears racing to join the blood. “I’m sorry,” I apologize, my words almost a cry.

“Well, sorry is not enough,” she snaps, “you will have to clean the entire orphanage tomorrow after school, instead of just your room. And that includes their rooms, the lunchroom, and the bathrooms.” I flinch at the word bathroom; they are so dirty that the orphanage usually has to bring in a professional cleaning team to get it done.

“Please, Ms. Penn,” I beg, my voice anguished, “I won’t have any time for homework if I clean the entire orphanage! That is a task for maybe two to four days!”

She smiles in return. “Mona, if you don’t get it done by tomorrow at ten o’ clock, then I won’t give you any breakfast or dinner for the next week.” I gasp, my breath caught in my throat. Turning towards the stairs, I run up them to my dorm, rushing to the room I like to call mine. Throwing myself onto the bed, I let them all loose, my tears now like a rushing river, my cheek throbbing with unbearable pain.

“You are going to get the sheets wet if you continue like that,” a melodic voice whispers, startling me in my silence, “would you like to let me in?”

I glance up at the window, spying the werewolf I thought had ditched me a while ago. He is sitting on the tree branch closest to my window, beckoning for me to open it. I crawl on the dull mattress to the wall, where the window is located, and flip the lock. With a little pain from the hand Xavier had hurt, I forced it open, wondering how Xavier can fit into such a tiny space.

Suddenly, a creamy white mass flings itself through the window, landing on the same bed I am in. He peers at me with his emerald eyes, the wolf part of Xavier, and morphs into the handsome man that is coupled with the beautiful beast.

His eyes widen at my cheek, stained ruby red with blood, pain, and tears. “What happened?” he asks, somehow compelling me to betray the truth.

“Ms. Penn, uh, slapped me,” I finish in a whisper, choked gasps escaping me as a fresh wave of pain enters my body. I can still feel them, the nails as they dug into my cheek. My hand throbs also, but it nothing against this blinding terror, coupled with the agony. If I don’t finish cleaning the entire orphanage tomorrow, which I won’t, then she will deprive me of food for the next week! And I only have about three or four dollars in my account at school.”

“That’s all?” he asks suspiciously, and I gaze into his emerald eyes without a word. He nods, taking my hand in his, staring at the bruise that was starting to form. “I’ll help you out of this, Mona,” he determines, swirling his soothing fingers around the purple splotch, “very soon.” With those words, he leans closer to my face, escalating my heartbeat, making me almost tremble. Why is he getting so close? I… haven’t accepted him yet.

He cups my face with his strong hands, brushing his lips across my cheek. I look in wonder as the pain recedes, retreating back to where it came from. As he lets go, I put my own hand to my cheek, feeling a slight wetness where the blood used to be over the puckered skin. “This works better when I’m in wolf form,” he says apologetically, “but I didn’t want you to think I was going to eat your cheek off.”

“What did you do?” I question, my voice filled with awe.

“Werewolves’ saliva has light healing properties; it can soothe and mend small scratches,” he explains. So this wetness…

“You spat on me?!” I exclaim in a loud whisper, shoving his arm away. He laughs as he wipes the saliva off my cheek, rubbing it on his shirt. For a minute, it seems utterly natural, us both laughing and smiling as we sit in a room with only one bed, an incredibly handsome man like him paired with a girl like me. None of the usual awkwardness surfaces—both of us like little children—I actually participating in his games.

I push him off the bed, and he thumps on the floor. His hair ruffled and messy, his white teeth shining, he seems now more human than ever. He stands up, a piece of white fluff sticking to his hair, and grins.

“Is this the real you, Mona?” he asks, using his all-knowing gaze to look into my soul. I stiffen a little at his words, a little perplexed.

“What do you mean? I’ve always been the real me.”

“No,” he argues, “you haven’t. From the first minute I met you, you had shut me out. You had built a wall around you, an impregnable one that nobody could surpass. But now it is broken, isn’t it, Mona? Don’t you feel better this way?”

In a moment of reluctance, I lay down on the hard bed. Somehow, the orphanage’s beds are harder than the floor, and has given me many sleepless nights. Patting the place beside me, I beckon for Xavier to join me. There is shuffling, and then there is his breath as it mingles with mine, another presence evident.

I point to the stars out of the window, the millions of tiny dots scattered in the deep night. “Once, when I was tiny, I asked my parents what stars really were. I had just finished watching The Lion King, and the part about the ancestors were really confusing me. They told me that the stars weren’t really lions like the movie suggested, but people. Every star up there is a person that cared about me. When they died, they would join the stars and watch over me. They told me I would never be alone, for I would always have the stars as my companion.”

“And you believed that?” he sputters in laughter.

“Shut up, Xavier. I was 4!” I reach and pinch his arm, then continue on. “…Ever since then, I have always wondered which star would be Mom, and which one would be Dad. I think that Mom would be a beautiful and bright star because of her boisterous personality, and that Dad would be a little bit more subdued. But most of all, I know that if they are up there, they would definitely be close together, almost touching. Every night, I look up into the sky and try to find them, but I haven’t yet. I know it is silly to have faith in something like this, but it is the only way for me to feel like I am not alone.”

There is silence as we both scan the deep black, hoping to see the two lights that I know I will instantly recognize. “Mona… could you tell me what happened to them?” he questions timidly, unintentionally releasing the pain and sorrow from within. I wince as they are all forced to the front of my memory; my mom, dad, and the haunting red eyes.

“I guess I do owe you an answer at least,” I resignedly say, “you have saved my life many times.”

“Just tell me if you want to,” he urges, “only if you feel comfortable.”

“I’m fine,” I reassure him, though tears still brim on the edge of my eyes. There is silence as I form my words, and then I speak. “It was on a cold Friday morning when we were driving to the lake. We had rented a house there and were going to stay for a couple of weeks. It was a short drive, about thirty minutes, to reach the lake, so we just took Dad’s truck. We were very excited, laughing and smiling, my mother sitting with me in the backseat. Everything was perfect, like a fairytale.

It was about fifteen minutes into the journey that the weirdness started.

First, the chills. Shivers suddenly started to race up and down my back, shocking me. Coldness seemed to seep into my skin, and even though I was tightly bundled in a huge jacket, that did nothing to stop it.

Then there was the fear. I had no idea why, but I was deathly frightened. Of what, I had no clue.

And lastly, the darkness. Everything seemed to go black at this moment, yet I could still see. It was strange, as if it wasn’t an actual blackness, but only one inside my head. I thought I was going crazy.

Suddenly, a creepy white thing appeared… the same one as the creature you killed earlier. It had a body like white mist and truly horrific eyes that could inflict terror just on its own. I screamed, trying to alert Mom, but she couldn’t see it. She couldn’t see the disastrous monster before me. Right then, the thing seemed to look at me with its awful gaze, delving into my soul. Then it turned, and focused on the man driving the car. Dad.

It devoured him. I could see it. The evil white ghost had charged into Dad’s chest, and he had suddenly gone rigid. Mom noticed his behavior, and called Dad’s name, but he didn’t turn, or lift his hands from the steering wheel. But he always pressed the gas. Never, even in his last moments of life, did he release the gas.

Mom reached forward and touched Dad’s shoulder, and he finally turned. It was truly horrific, frightening us both. His face was expressionless, but his beautiful chocolate eyes had turned to a deep, fiery ruby. Mom and I both started to panic, and she began to reach for the doors, to try to open them so we could both escape. But this stranger with the same face as father had locked them, imprisoning us both inside.

We began to approach a cliff, the bottom of it piddled with rocks and bushes, upon which we had to pass to reach the lake. Dad pressed the gas even harder, ignoring the 25 mph speed limit. We were going almost 70 mph now, signaling certain devastation. When we reached the turn right at the cliff’s beginning, Dad released the steering wheel. He leaned his head back, the spirit dwindling within him. I watched in fear as we drove off the edge of the cliff, suspended in the air for a few seconds before falling to our deaths.

I… don’t know how I lived. Mom had jumped at me, shielding me with her body, but it was a ten to fifteen foot drop, full of bounces and rolls. Everyone called my survival a miracle, and that my life was saved by God,” I whisper, “but w-why would God want to save me?” I burst into tears, the memories fresh and scything, hate brewing. Xavier watches me, his tears matching my own.

“It’s okay, Mona,” he murmurs as I cry, holding me tightly, “you have me now. I’m here for you.” I let the comfort surround me, feeling almost surprised at the fact that I wasn’t pushing him away. But now, I needed him more than anyone.

“I hate them, Xavier!” I cry, my voice of anguish, “I hate the Shifters.” Everything becomes blurry, my voice more and more distant.

My eyes close, the droplets of sadness dripping down my cheeks, and I surrender myself into Xavier’s warm embrace, hoping he will soothe my wounded heart.