Tell Me Lies

Chapter 1

The world somehow kept spinning. The flowers kept growing, the sun kept shining, the birds kept singing their songs of joy. Yet, for me anyways, it had seemed to stop in ways I never imagined. It had been three months since my attempt at a shower and poor Eric's death.
I hadn't been to town since. I hadn't even left my room. My father had almost forced me to eat, and I couldn't sleep if I didn't want to see his golden eyes staring back at me. Sometimes they were sad, other times angry, but they were always the same eyes. Eric's eyes. Haunting me.
My father thinks I am ashamed of my behavior, that I feel this way due to my brother being injured and our window being broken. He doesn't know I hate killing another living creature. Even if they were evil.
The door creaked open and my father stood in the doorway, strong and steady. A giant of a man, he filled the whole room with his intimidating presence. Luckily he was usually level headed until it came to my mistakes, which unfortunately seemed to be everything I did.
"There is a gathering tonight." His voice was deep and gravelly, filling the room with a sense of calm power.
A gathering was an annual meeting of werewolves, the only one that the higher ranking members allowed lower level members to attend. That's all I really knew about it.
"Your brother and I will be attending, to see who the current alpha is and how best to kill him." He stated it so plainly, like he was saying he was going to go bowling with the boys. Not planning to take a powerful life.
"You may join us if you are done feeling sorry for yourself." His tone turned accusatory, and his eyes hinted that there would be consequences if I refused.
"What should I wear?" My voice cracked a little from not using it often, as if my body had to remember how to make sounds.
"Casual. Jeans. T-shirt. The like. Whatever you want. Be ready by 6." He left quietly, not bothering to close the door behind him.
A man of few words, but a deadly assassin. Since my mother died his only mission in life was to avenge her death by killing every werewolf possible. After all, it was their fault she was gone.
I don't remember her at all. I don't even know how old I was when she died. My father never spoke of her, and the few times I dared to ask about her the only thing he would say is "Those damn wolves took her from us."
I don't even know her name.
My brother says she was kind, but refuses to say anymore. He is as stoic as our father, and deadly with a bow. Dirk's hair was long and shaggy, he looked like one of them more than they did. He looked wild and fierce, his piercing green eyes could stab you in your soul. He screamed of danger.
Sometimes I was more afraid of my own family than the wolves.
I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked almost as dangerous in some ways. My hair was unkept, wild and tangled. But unlike the rest of my family there was a deep sadness in my eyes instead of the fire of vengeance. More like a prisoner than a hunter.
Another difference was unlike my father and brother, I was skinny from malnourishment and lack of exercise. Hardly eating anything for months and not leaving my room had taken it's toll and I looked like the ghost of the person I used to be.
I wanted another shower. Desperately. The warm water had felt so good on my skin, and for the first time I had felt clean and beautiful. Not anymore though, and I wouldn't risk it again.
Instead I put the little make up I owned on my face, just foundation nothing else. Father said there were more important things to spend our money on, but at least this would hide the dark circles under my eyes.
I brushed my hair as best I could. It was highly tangled and I needed a professional hair cut, or a shower with conditioner. Neither of which we're going to happen anytime soon. It took almost an hour to make it look halfway decent, and by the end it hurt to even touch it.
Most of the shirts I owned were ill fitting, either passed down from my brother or bought from second hand stores. Father said clothes weren't important enough to spend a lot of money on. The few that did fit well I would have to check throughly for blood, just in case.
I had one pair of jeans. They were two sizes too big but luckily Father had let me have a belt to keep them on my body.
I had a pair of worn out tennis shoes or a little bit better condition sandals that I could choose from. The only pair of boots I owned were out of the question, being used for hunting they would undoubtedly have blood on them. I was tempted to choose the sandals, but the tennis shoes would provide more protection and potentially be able to hide a weapon.
No hunter in their right mind would go to a werewolf meeting without weapons.
This is all my father ever cared about buying. Silver weapons. Silver daggers, swords, knifes, and even a silver gun with matching silver bullets. The gun was Fathers, and it was not to be touched. There was also a bow, but the silver arrows that belonged to it have long since been used.
The knifes would be the easiest to conceal, and there were more of them than anything. I could hide on in my jeans, another in my shoe. Uncomfortable but Father says it's better to be uncomfortable than dead.
I was ready by five. Father returned to my door at 5:45, impressed that I was already dressed and ready to go. He nodded in acknowledgment and turned to leave, and I followed as I knew he wanted me to.
Dirk was sitting at the table in the dining room, but as we entered he immediately stood up and nodded at my father.
The three of us went over the plan, mingle among the wolves and find out any and all information regarding the alpha. Father wanted to know even trivial type information like how many sugars he put in his tea.
With weapons hidden in our outfits and our scent hidden, we were off to find out how to take down the most powerful werewolf of them all. Maybe then, there would finally be vengeance.