Elizabeth's Story
Elizabeth's POV
I ran as fast as I possibly could. Syrus hadn't seen my wound because my wounds, like the wounds of all my kind, heal at sunrise. Physical wounds, that is. However, when a werewolf goes through something traumatic, the reaction is worse than a human's. This is because werewolves are naturally aggressive. That is mostly the reason I snapped at Syrus. That was something he could never know.
I stopped when I reached the beach. I stared at my reflection and whispered "I'm nothing but a monster." A tear fractured my reflection. Another reflection accompanied mine on the water's surface. It was Syrus. He put his hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?" he asked. "I was just thinking about my brother, Cedric. He died just after I turned nine." "I'm sorry," he said. "Don't be, all things serve the will of God. Besides, he's in a better place now." "If you don't mind me asking, how did he, you know…" "Die?" "Yeah." "A serial killer that had been in my town got to him and…" "I see." "I don't usually talk about it to anyone. It just doesn't seem worth dwelling on as long as he's in my heart." "If that isn't true than I don't know what is."
