Prologue
I was eleven years old when I found out what exactly we were. My family lived in the shadows, never to reveal themselves to the public. For I am sure, if the public knew, that they may hold our family in suspicion, and even more than that? They would hold fear; fear of a kind of abnormal people who lose all control of sanity once a month.
I was considered different from those in our family. My behavior was of question, and therefore I lacked the ability to attend school. I wasn't even allowed to leave the house, except for at midnight, where I would walk around in the fields and glare up at the moon. It was very beautiful, but even beautiful things can hold horrible omens.
I think about what I might be about to do – what will happen if I lose control completely – and I shudder, because I am a peaceful person. A peaceful person, but not a peaceful creature. The creature I was destined to become is remorseless, cruel and evil, and I hate it.
In hating it I hate myself.
It is vicious and there is nothing I can do to prevent it. I lived in terror, this wait of my first transformation. The pain; the pain of your bones relocating, the pain of things growing, shrinking, shifting, I was terrified. I was made to kill, and kill I shall, if given the chance. I want to take every precaution I can to ensure I will keep my human sanity alive.
I still haven't been able to shift, and for that, my parents debated on out casting me. As soon as I was old enough, I left. They were unable to understand the development of my curse. My scenes were heightened past those of a normal werewolf. I wanted to search the werewolf annals for my own kind, hoping to find solace with those like me. That was my goal for the time being.
My name is Samantha A. Lucian, a prowler of full-waxed moon. I am a lycanthrope, and I am not alone.