POV: Alex

What if I…

What if I stop being the 'good guy'?

Or the 'rule follower'?

I wanna cave into the dark side calling to me.

From the moment I was born, to the time I was adopted by my parents, I never felt like I fit in. I was a carnivore in a house full of herbivores. I was quiet, shy, awkward, and the only carnivore in family gatherings. I was a wolf in sheep's clothing, pretending to be a different animal than the one I was born as. I would hide away from carnivores who tried to comfort me, but I found out that I could never relate to them. I never experienced the temptation to eat another animal, I had always been told it was a part of me, but I didn't need to be a part of it. Eventually I knew I would cross the line, I knew I would need help, I wasn't a dumb kid. And all the events that had transpired, only made me feel more alone, hiding away in the shadows, and pretending to be someone I wasn't.

But I didn't even know who I was.

The ending's obvious, I know it's not right.

I had felt happiness, I had felt sadness. I knew all of the emotions my stupid body could ever experience, because I had experienced them all. But I couldn't seem to keep the happiness, the joy in my heart. It was like I was chasing this light around, running around in circles, never catching it. The worst being knowing I had friends, knowing I had animals there for me, but never wanting to be around them when I needed them the most. I would push them away-I would push everyone away. So why was everyone so kind to me? Why did everyone care about me, when I didn't even care about myself?

Dad may have apologized, may have done everything in his power to show that he loved me. But I still couldn't shake the feeling that nothing mattered, that he still didn't care about me, that nobody cared about me. But they did, everyone cared about me, and I couldn't find a highlight in the shadows. I had Steven, I had Jordan, but I couldn't stop myself from thinking that it didn't matter, that they were only my friends out of pity.

I had been beaten, abused, tortured by the ones who were supposed to care for me, who were supposed to protect me. And I was beaten and scarred by myself, I had done horrible things to myself, so why did everyone think I deserved to live? Why was I pulled over the red lines, past the red flags and over the speed bumps? Why was I the one everyone needed to pity, when I didn't want their pity in the first place?

There was only so much everyone could say, only so much they could do. No matter how hard they tried though, it didn't matter. I crossed lines I wasn't supposed to cross, said things I shouldn't have said, and did things that nobody should ever have to experience. What did I do it all for? Myself? My own problems? My weird obsession with having to feel sorry for myself?

Well, I was over it, I was tired of it. If only for just a day, I wanted it all gone.

High winds blew through my clothes, reaching the fur underneath.

The past can't haunt me if I don't let it.

City lights below, reaching out to the heavens, to stars, asking for something, but getting nothing. Echoes of footsteps on cobblestones, car horns blaring into the darkness, headlights illuminating pathways that weren't mine. One step and that would've been the end of it for me, one slip, one foot forward, no hesitation. It would all be over.

That's what I wanted, right?

For it to all be over?

I was put through flames, crawling through hell just to find my way out. And when I did, I was casted away, sent back down to rot forever in Hellfire. There were no monsters, there was no breathing, there was only pain. It was never going to be over, no matter how hard I tried to push it down, to act a certain way. There was no way I was going to make it on my own, I had no strength left in my body. I told everyone I was fine, that I was doing ok. There wasn't a lot of convincing when each time they looked at me, my eyes held all the pain I refused to express. And I would always whisper in my head that it's all my fault, that everything was my fault for some reason. But, it wasn't my fault, nothing was my fault, it was everyone else's.

So what was stopping me from putting that one foot forward? What was stopping me from walking the tightrope and falling onto the concrete below? What was stopping me from holding on to wasted time? There was nobody up there with me, to tell me to stop, to tell me that I had more to live for. I had nobody, and I was never going to have anybody. It was just going to be me, myself, and I.

Can't hold me back, already standing right at the edge.

I took a deep breath, taking a few paces back, then running off the edge.

Then I woke up.

A disease of the mind, it can control you.

My chest was heaving, gasps of air leaving my body, being replaced with air that only wanted out. Heart was racing and I placed a hand over it, its rapid rhythm sending panic into my mind, only causing it to beat harder. I shot out of bed, breathing hard, focusing on one spot in the room. One, two, three. My hearted steadied, breathing slowed, eyes blinked, glancing around the room. I turned over my arms, scars still barely visible. I sighed, falling back onto my bed and clasping my hands over my chest, breathing normally.

"It was just a bad dream," I said to myself, "just...a nightmare." But nightmares weren't supposed to feel so real.

I closed my eyes, hoping for sleep to take over again, but it didn't. Even the sound of the fan and the soft chirping of crickets couldn't bring me to the brink of unconsciousness. My phone read 2am, headlights bleeding through the blinds as cars passed down the street.

I sighed, pulling the covers off of my body, being met with cold and darkness. Opening the door of my room met me with the dark hallway, lights off, everybody sleeping.

Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me but everyone around me.

No matter how many times I blocked off the memories, that Dad was different, that he was a changed animal. I just couldn't let them go, couldn't push them away. They clung to me like glue, and I was smearing myself in it. The times he shoved me to the ground, the times he clipped my nails, the times he lied and scolded me and told me I was worthless and pointed out my flaws and ruined everything. Crying was a weakness in his eyes, and I didn't even know my heart could break when it wasn't even whole to begin with. Because of him, I was afraid of everything. He heard me cry in my sleep, he watched me die inside when he hit me, but he...he didn't care. So now was it ok that he did care? Was it ok for him to finally care?

I thought I was over it, I thought I was over him, but it was never really over. And I was never going to be over it, unless I could just forget about it, if I could just do something that would knock me out, take the pain away, make me feel good about myself.

Flicking on a light in the kitchen brought the granite countertops into full view and I didn't care if anyone caught me, I didn't care if I wasn't keeping up the strength I needed to push myself. The fridge opened up and the blue, dark brown bottles stared back at me, filled with a disgusting liquid, something that would always make me cringe when Dad forced me to drink it. I thought that it would kill me, but it didn't. So I grabbed one bottle, using the bottle opener on the side of the fridge, popping off the top and inhaling its intoxicating scent.

My lips pressed against the bottle, the dark liquid burning as it ran down my throat, filling it with a sudden warmness in my chest which flooded to the rest of my body. I liked it, so I kept drinking. I finished the bottle and tossed it in the trash, grabbing another one and repeating the process.

It only took a couple of swigs from the bottle for my vision to blur, for my tongue to feel like rubber and swirl around my mouth, licking each tooth. Face and hands were numb, legs shook as I tried to regain my balance from the blurring vision.

I grabbed the box of bottles in my hand, carrying them outside onto the patio, stars shimmering in the sky. The warmness in my chest never left, even as I drank more and more, the burning sensation leaving and being replaced with a sweet taste.

Eyes grew heavy as I drank another bottle. Four down, four more to go. Each one gave me the sensation of passing out, and all of the pain, all of the emotions washed away with each drink of the cold liquid. Some would say I needed help, but I didn't care, nobody listened to me anyway. Another bottle touched my lips, another sweet sensation down my throat. It felt so liberating, to have everything wash away, to have all the pain, all the suffering be erased from my mind, clouded by thick mist.

The sky above turned different shades of blue, flickering in my mind as stars doubled upon themselves. Heart started to race, but I didn't care as another sweet flavor filled my mouth, swallowing it and shaking my head from the taste. Bottles were laid on the ground, some falling from my hand and shattering onto the concrete, only being met with a shrug and another bottle.

Each one made me feel happier and happier, muting the world around me, dampening my senses with numbness trickling into my fingertips.

Is this what it feels like to be drunk? I guess I don't have a high alcohol tolerance.

I smiled, staring into the sky as I stood on the patio, bugs swarming the faint light of the lamp. It was nice to feel something other than nothing, to have this warmness in my chest, to have this sweet berry flavor in my mouth. There was no turning back now, I was too deep, giving in to the small voice in my head. I never thought this was where I would end up.

The bottles were still on the ground when I closed the back door behind me, lights flickering off and a concerned stare from Dad who stood in the darkness. I knew I should've been feeling anxiety, I should've been scared, but I wasn't. I smiled, the world crashing around me as my vision turned to darkness and my legs gave out.

Dad was there in an instant, arms wrapping around my body. "What the hell has gotten into you?"

"Nofffffhing," I said, hysteria rising in my throat.

"God you smell like," his nose wrinkled, "alcohol."

"No shipf."

Dad carried me over to the couch and threw me onto it, shaking his head with a smile on his face. "I guess you're allowed one drunk night...you'll wake up with one hell of a headache. How many bottles or cans did you drink?" He looked around the room.

"Eigft," I said, eyes blacking out.

The next morning was a terrible one, splitting headache, a constant dizzying feeling when I would try to stand and all the happiness from yesterday fading away. I could still taste the alcohol on my tongue, bitter with its unsavory taste. My heart was broken, like the bottles on the patio outside, light revealing just how much I had actually drank. There was this tenseness in my muscles, a dry throat and it felt like I was moving my limbs through thick honey.

Mom was in the corner, shaking her head as Dad passed her and rolled his eyes, a glass of water in his hand. "Here," he said, handing me the glass. "Given the amount you drank, you're probably very dehydrated." From my blurred vision and terrible headache which felt like a hot knife slicing my brain in two, I grabbed the glass. The water was refreshing, cold and hydrating. I finished one glass and wanted more, but I was scared to ask for more.

My hands were shaking as I handed the glass back to Dad. "I feel like shit," I said, laying my head back, sensitive to the touch of the soft cushions.

He set it down, eyeing me coolly. "You look like shit...wasted as hell." He chuckled and sat on the couch beside me. "I mean, you drank eight bottles. Honestly I'm surprised you're not dead." He smiled, reaching his hand over to rub the fur behind my ears. "Well I hope when you do it again, you're twenty-one so I don't get in trouble."

"From who?" I asked, leaning into his soft touch.

"Your mother. Damn when she heard what you did and how I wasn't going to stop you or scold you, she went ballistic."

"I'm guessing she's mad at me?" My eyes squinted from the light beaming through the glass backdoor.

"She's more mad at me."

I turned on my side, stomach churning and feeling pressure behind my eyes.

Hungover…

Never thought I would be experiencing this.

Dad stood up, grabbing the blanket from the side of the couch and draping it over me. "Get some sleep, this is gonna be one hell of a day for you." I nodded in agreement before my eyes shut again.

Now I got myself looking like a mess

I've put up my fight, but this is it this time.

Sometimes I like to think that this world genuinely does care about me, that my friends love me and everything is right as rain. But the feeling of always being alone, the loneliness and sadness that always makes its way back just ruins everything, and I don't know how to get rid of it.

Whatever, I don't care anymore.

I jump from the train, I ride off alone.

I never grow up, it's getting so old.

They see right through me.

I thought, for at least a day, I could drink my problems away. It worked, to a small extent. Empty was what I felt, empty and hollow. There weren't any emotions, weren't any thoughts that ran through my head, just...nothing. My head was still spinning, limbs were still fuzzy, like tv static was shooting through my veins. My wolf sight was useless, powerful nose lay powerless, and claws looked sharper than normal.

Mom's hand was soft on my head as she whispered things I couldn't understand. They couldn't have been that important if they came from her mouth. She shook my arm "Alex? Come on, you need to wake up."

Heartbeat steady.

I squinted my eyes from the light, staring right up at her face. She was pretty, features soft and full of emotion. Mom sighed, grabbing the glass of water and handing it to me. I took it, pondering the clear liquid which was before me. My head tilted, ears flattening to my head, the head which throbbed with pain.

"You're supposed to drink it," she said with a giggle. How could she act so sweet, when she was so vile underneath?

"I know what to do with it," I growled, expression going sour. I didn't realize how thirsty I actually was until the water touched my lips and replenished my dry throat, I wished it was alcohol instead.

Mom touched my face, rubbing the fur on my cheek. "You know I love you, right?"

I sighed, placing the glass down. "I know, but you have a real shitty way of showing it." I stared her in the eye, hoping she got the hint to leave me alone.

"Don't make this a regular thing," she said. "The bottles, the cans, it's not good for you. Your body is still developing, your brain isn't going to act right if you're drunk."

"It was just one time."

"One time leads to another occurrence. Don't make it a habit."

I narrowed my eyes. "And why do you care? Why do you care at all about me?"

She crossed her arms, glancing off to the side. "Because you're my son, and I'm worried about you. You want to go back to school, and yet, you don't even understand the problems it's caused you."

I slowly got up from the ouch, unbalanced and wobbly, towering over my tiny mother. I knew I was scary, I knew she was scared of me.

I'm tired of seeking your approval.

"I don't care," I said. "I don't care what you think anymore, I'm over it. You say you know what's best for me, think about the past Mom, did you do anything to stop Dad? In some ways, you were just as bad as he was. But at least he's trying to better himself, at least he's being the better parents. Can't say the same for you."

"That's not fair," she said, standing her ground."

"I'm done reliving your passive antics, I'm tired of holding on to wasted time. So I'm done Mom, I'm done with you."

"You don't mean that, you're just frustrated and hungover."

"Then answer this: do you really want to divorce Dad, or is it because you just don't want me in your life anymore? Cause dear God, I would love to move away from you forever." I sighed, releasing the tension in my shoulders and looking down. "I'm done, Mom. Stop pretending, stop being fake, stop these fake acts of love. If you really want to go, then go. I can make it on my own, I don't need you."

You brought the flames and you put me through hell.

Her hands were to her sides, clenched into tiny fists. "I know I wasn't the best! I know I did nothing to stop him! Do you know how It felt to watch you get beat? To see you with bruises and cuts and pain all over your body? It kills me every time i think about it, and I think about every time I see you. I don't see a seventeen year old wolf who's capable of making his own decisions. I see a scared twelve year old, bruised and broken." She let go of breaths she had been keeping in. "I didn't know what to do, I was scared. I thought threatening divorce was the right option, because you had just…" she choked on her words, tears falling down her face. "God, Alex. I didn't know if I would ever get to see you smile, if I would ever get to see you speak again. I didn't know what I was doing, I thought it was the right decision." She looked into my eyes, brown mixed with tears. "If...if you want me to walk away, if you want me gone...then I'll leave. You'll never see me again. If that's what you want, I'll do it."

I closed my eyes, holding back tears that flushed away the anger in my heart. "I'm sorry, for everything. But Mom, I'm not twelve anymore, I'm not a little kid anymore."

"I know that," she said, covering her face with her hands. "I-I know that. But you're always going to be little to me, you're always going to be my baby. To see you suffer, to see you in pain-knowing some of that pain is my fault...I...I don't know what to do. I want you to make your own decisions, I want you to find happiness, I want you to be happy, even if you are gay, it doesn't matter."

I looked towards the floor, Mom holding my glass heart in her hand, then dropping it.

Mom caressed my cheek, tears streaming down her face. "You told me awhile back, and I don't care. If Steven makes you happy, then be with him, I'm not going to stop you." She grabbed my arms, turning them over to reveal the tiny scars still left on my skin, barely visible through the thick grey fur. "No matter the shit I put you through, no matter how many times you wish I was dead, or gone from your life forever. I just want you to know one thing; I will always love you. I don't know how to make it up to you, I don't know how to fix things. I don't want you hating me anymore, but if hating me makes you feel better inside, then I'm willing to accept it."

I didn't hate my mom, I just hated...I didn't know. She had done so many things that I should've been grateful for-and I was. But when your mom is on the sidelines and your team is losing, and she's not cheering you on, not yelling at other parents because her child is the best, because it doesn't matter that a wolf is on the basketball team with herbivores, because it doesn't matter that you are different from everyone else in your family. Because it didn't matter that life was cruel to you, and you didn't have a mom to pick you up and hold you. There were pieces of my life on the ground everywhere I went. And I was scared to pick them up, to find myself again.

A lost cause, nobody can save my soul.

I think I'm still hungover.

Mom wiped tears from her eyes. "I was scared, Alex. And I'm sorry that I wasn't there for you like I should've been, and I know saying sorry doesn't fix anything, it doesn't make up for all the crap I didn't do. It was so stupid for me to think-" she covered her mouth as she cried more and I laid my hand on her shoulder.

As much as I liked to think I hated her, to despise her and forget about her forever...she was still my mom. It hurt to see her hurting, my heart tensed up, everything inside me burning up like a wildfire.

"I thought...I-I thought," she choked on her words, burying her face in my shirt. "I thought they would take you away from me!" She sobbed into my shirt, arms wrapped tightly around my body. "What was I supposed to do? How-how was I supposed to do something when I thought if I did anything, they would take you away from me!" She cried loudly, and all I could do was watch as my mom's unrelenting emotions took over her body.

The room was filled with Mom's cries, mind blanking as to what to do next. Time passed by, putting tiny pieces together from what she had said, trying my damn hardest to not choke up on thought. Take me away? Who was going to take me away from her?

"Who?" I said through a dry throat. "Who was going to take me away?"

She lifted her head up, tears in her brown eyes, staring directly into mine. "I knew what your father was doing was bad, I knew I had to do something. What do you think the world would say if a carnivore living in an herbivore family was...abused?" She let the word float through the air, stinging my ears, like pins were being stabbed through them. "What would everyone say?" she continued, chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. "The world hates you enough as it is, but I just couldn't dial the number...I couldn't call them...I couldn't do it." She pulled away crying into her hands, my shirt stained from her tears. "I knew I had to do something, but I didn't know what to do!" She pulled her hands away, balling them into tiny fists. "So when we heard the news, and you were rushed to the hospital...I made it very clear to your father that this...thing you were dealing with, the past you suffered through, I wasn't going to let it ever happen again."

"So, you threatened divorce," I said as a statement, understanding where she was coming from. I sighed, running a hand through my ears which were flat on my head. Despite everything she had told me, from the puzzle pieces I was putting together, I wasn't mad. There was no anger in my veins, no sadness in my heart, just...pity. I forced a smile to my face. "It's ok," I said, taking her hands in my mind . "I'm ok now, you don't have to worry about me anymore."

Her shoulders slumped. "But I do." Her head turned to the back door, the beer bottles shattered on the patio, tears glistening in her eyes. "I do have to worry, I'm always going to worry. When you're grown up and off to college, when you have a partner and kids, when you're away, and when I'm dead. I'm always going to worry." A weak smile formed on her lips, breathing in deeply, then letting it go. "I couldn't keep it in anymore, Alex. I can't go on with life knowing you hate me, knowing I caused you so much suffering. And I know...I know saying sorry doesn't fix anything. But I'm not your father, I don't know how to make it up to you, I don't know what to do for you to...not hate me anymore."

I cocked my head to the side, a small smile on my face. "I don't hate you, I could never hate you. I can act like I hate you, that I never want to be around you anymore, but it's not true." I sighed, splitting headache returning with double vision.

Long hard road to get that redemption.

Mom guided me to the couch. "Promise me you'll never drink that much ever again," she said. I still had the weak smile on my face, but it would've been a lie if I responded. So I resorted to silence, letting Mom make her own assumptions about my intentions. I didn't know what I wanted to do. The alcohol seemed tempting, a liquid that could wash away all my problems for a while, and if I kept drinking, possibly forever.

Eighty-six thousand four hundred seconds in a day. I swear lately most of them have been a waste. I feel them come and go, bury my mistakes. But time just goes on and on, in a way.

The time I've wasted, lost in my head.

When all I really wanted, was love.

My tail wagged behind me. "I don't hate you, Mom. I don't think I'll ever be able to hate you." Mom hugged me back, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. I caught a glimpse of Dad standing in the hallway, eyes brimming with tears, hand covering his mouth.

All the king's horses, all the king's men, couldn't put me together again.

Mom fiddled with her fingers. "Do you really want to go back to school? I hate to make this all about me, but It...it scares me knowing that you want to go back to the place where you almost killed yourself." The conversion of killing myself had come up so many times that I had grown numb to the word, when I would usually flinch or cringe at its mention.

"My friends need me," I said. "I want to see Jordan, I want to be around the animals that make me happy. Being around the four walls of this house just makes me feel...cursed, like something is always looming over my shoulder. Sorry," I added.

Mom shook her head. "I understand, you don't want to be in the place where worse has happened." She patted her legs. "Ok, I'll get the forms worked out with Dad and we can work on getting you back to school. I know they have a therapist waiting for you. At least I have some comfort knowing you're around good animals. Steven seems like a nice boy, why haven't I met his parents yet?"

"Are you ok with German Shepherds?"

"I have a wolf as a son," she chuckled. "I'm ready for anything."