LUKA

Save Me, Please

My name is Luka Greyback and I have to write this story otherwise you all will grow up and think that I'm a monster, a savage beast, mix of terrible blood: werewolf and wizard, and just like my father Fenrir Greyback. Let me tell you one thing: I am not a monster. In fact, I'm probably one of the most kind guys in Britain. 

But I have to be bad because well look at my daddy. He kills people for FUN. He kills even if he isn't in his werewolf form. And he certainly doesn't take 'no' for an answer. You don't know what it is like growing up knowing your mum was forced to have you and now all you have is your insane and cruel father who carries a whip that was definitely not for show.

That's another thing I hate about him: The Whip. Whenever I refused to hurt the human he stole from a peaceful village nearby, whenever I refused the deer he bought down using only his fangs(I'm a vegetarian!), whenever I did anything that was 'soft' or 'girly-like' then I would be taken to the forest and lashed with the whip. I was called names you don't ever want to be called: asshole, fucking idiot, little prissy cunt. 

So I should just give up, I should just give up striving to be something more than the names I was branded the moment I was born. I should just put my tail between my legs and follow the path Dad set out for me, in which I killed people, ate people and killed some more people. Maybe I should, but I don't.

Because I have a heart, and I have too big of a one. Because the names 'freak, monster, cruel, vicious animal' were stuck on my head and I didn't want those names on my head, even if Dad thought they were a gift. I'm still a boy, and I'm a boy who doesn't want to be evil. I'm a boy who just wants to be the biggest, kindest and brightest boy in the room.

I will always be that kind of boy, even if he cracks my spine from the amount of time he lashed my back, even if I die, I just want to be remembered like that. I just want to be GOOD.

"What are you doing, you fucking idiot?!", my dad put a furry paw over my ear and roared straight into it, as if I was a microphone. I jumped out of my wits, sucked away from my thoughts and drawn back into the reality I was in.

The reality was a stark, desolate forest, once thought to have been inhabited by great evil, now the rumours carried even more weight than before. Because there was an actual monster living in the shabby cabin that had been claimed to be haunted since the villagers found it, with his monster son.

The trees were so tall, like ancestors gazing over me. I bet my ancestors would hate me, since I was everything a werewolf must definitely NOT be. I must be a monster. I must be violent, cruel, mean, awful. I must enjoy the smell of human blood.

I swallowed back vomit. I had to stop thinking about blood, because it made me want to puke.

"Sorry Dad", I whispered, my small frame tiny compared to the beast beside me. All I had on was a grey t-shirt and old jeans. It would be so easy for Dad to rip my clothes off and to lash all the welts and scars that covered my body like a bad rash.

His vice like grip was deadly as he squeezed the back of my throat. "Don't. Act. Like. An. Imbecile", he hissed in a husky tone before he let go, yellow fangs inches away from my skin. I let out a quiet breath. You are good, you are good, you are good, you are good, I repeated as Dad opened his mouth to speak.

"Shift", he snarled.

I glanced up at the sky: no full moon. This was one of my fears: that after shifting so many times without the full moon, I would be stuck in my monster form forever. I would lose the human part of me, the kind part, the part I loved, and turn into Dad.

"NOW", that voice I knew well. It was the If-you-don't-do-what-I-say-I-kill-you voice.

I summoned the full moon in my mind and I concentrated on that powerful glow, the feeling on the moonlight rippling through my muscles, the sensation as furry ears sprouted on my ears, the ragged pile of clothes at my feet, and the vicious snarl Dad would make as soon as I shifted.