Three months ago
There’s only so many things you can do in certain situations. In the wake of my sister’s death, I didn’t do anything. My father took care of that, claiming that he was going to get justice on the one that killed her. The thought of that happening brought me happiness. When he also turned up dead, I didn’t do anything then either. I wanted to go after the stupid bitch that killed him, but my mother convinced me not to. She said I was all she had left and didn’t want me to die either. I could understand that. When my other sister, Tiffany, disappeared on the same night that he was murdered, there wasn’t anything I could do, though it was killing me not to.
She was a missing person for all of a month before the police found her body.
At that point she wasn’t a complete skeleton yet, but her body was by no means identifiable. The funeral had to be closed-casket because of it. It was too late for them to even figure out the cause of her death, though I know that it could have only been a number of things considering the fact that she was a werewolf. They said something about damage near her heart, so I’m presuming someone shot or stabbed her with some kind of silver, though from the damage they found it was unclear to them what happened. It was not an accident and I want revenge on whoever has caused her death. But I don’t know who that is. No one does. So still, I’ve done nothing. Both of my sisters have died, along with my father, and I’ve done nothing.
Now it’s time for me to come home and see my mother. She’s all I have left.
Our relationship has gotten much stronger after my family’s deaths, as we’ve been seeing each other much more. Before, the only members of my family I actually wanted to be around was my dad and Tiffany. My mom, Abigail, my other sister, and I have never really been on the same page. In hindsight, that probably had to do with the fact that they were good, innocent people, and I was not. Am not. They weren’t werewolves, they never killed people. And I sure didn’t want to be around them while they continued to lecture me about it. My father, however, supported my lifestyle. It’s clear that I’ve taken after him, becoming an alpha of my very own pack.
“Mom?” I call as I step inside. I shut the door behind me, hearing the familiar smack as it closes. Every time I come in here, memories come flooding back. I can see my sisters and I all playing together, running through the house as children. I see my dad and mom snuggled up next to each other on the couch. We were so happy.
I blink a couple times before the tears can surface, clearing my throat. “Mom?” I call again. The house seems quieter than usual, hearing only my own footsteps as I drift into the living room. My mom could be out right now, but I doubt it. She never goes anywhere anymore. I’m about to walk through and check in the kitchen when I notice an envelope on the large mahogany dresser next to me. My eyebrows furrow in confusion when I see my name written across it in a large, beautiful cursive font. My mother’s handwriting. I rip it open and start scanning over it from the top.
Let me start by saying how sorry I am. I tried to fight this. I really did. But in the end, your father’s and sisters’ deaths were just too much for me. I’m not strong like you. The only reason I held on this long was because of you. I didn’t want to leave you alone. I still don’t, but it’s become too much for me to handle. It’s my time to go. I hope that you can understand why I did it, Jane. I love you so, so much. I know I’ve never approved of the way you’ve lived your life, but I didn’t approve of your father’s either, and I still loved him. I’m proud of you. You’ve grown into this strong, powerful, smart, and beautiful woman, and I know that you can find a way to move on without me here–
I drop the letter at this point and fly out of the living room. “MOM! MOM!” I don’t feel anything as I race up the stairs, screaming her name. My head pounds in my ears and the only thing I can think of is finding her; finding her before it’s too late. Surely she didn’t do it yet, she couldn’t have– The door almost comes off its hinges as I burst into my mother’s bedroom, freezing when my eyes fall upon her bed.
Her wispy dark blonde hair is sprawled over her neck and face, covering up some of the wrinkles that have come with her age and the stress she’s endured throughout her life. One arm is draped over her stomach while the other rests next to her head on the bed, almost like she’s sleeping. She lies on her back, an empty pill bottle on the nightstand next to her.
My breath gets stuck in my throat and suddenly I’m standing over her, brushing the hair out of her face. It almost looks like . . like she’s smiling. My hands shake as I lift her shoulders up, shaking her body. It’s stiff and I can’t hear her heartbeat. I don’t know how long she’s been here, but it’s too late.
“MOM! MOM!” Hot tears come pouring down my face, dripping onto hers beneath me. “Please, please, please . .” No matter how many tears come out, or how many times I beg, she doesn’t wake up. She’s never going to wake up.
At some point, I realize I should call the police, though it’s too late for them to do anything. I pick up the bottle next to her bed and hold it in my hands. As I stare at the empty bottle, I realize that this is one of those situations I was thinking about before. There’s only so many options that I have left now.
The one that sounds the most pleasing, at first, is to grab one of our silver knives downstairs and end this now, just like my mother has done. I could give up and just let everything go. My pack would make it without me. I have no family, no husband, no boyfriend, no kids, nobody. There’s no one else depending on me, and there’s nothing else holding me back. Except . .
I could also let this go. Do nothing. I could try to keep going, but I’d never be happy again. I have nothing left. Somewhere down the line, I would probably end up making the same decision my mother has. I can’t get past this. I can’t. I’m already dead inside.
But this time, I’m not going to do nothing. I did nothing when my sisters died, I did nothing when my father died, but I’m drawing the line this time. I know who it was that killed Abigail; my father told me all about her. The girl who’s sister then killed my father, which has now led to my mother killing herself. It all comes back to her. She is to blame for all of this. I’m not going to allow my family to be disgraced by her any more. I can’t kill myself before getting revenge on her; getting justice for all the death she has brought onto my family. That sounds better than killing myself right now. I will do that after I get my revenge. She has to pay for this, which I now see is my third and final option, and it’s the only viable one.
I hear police and ambulance sirens coming down the street, which will soon be here to carry my mother’s body away. Yet another funeral I will have to bear through.
I slam the pill bottle back onto the dresser and pull myself to my feet. Taking one last look at my mother, I kiss her forehead tenderly before turning around, wiping away the last of my tears.
There’s only so many things you can do in certain situations. In my case, I only have one possible option left: I’m going to kill Juliana Monroe if it’s the last thing I do.