Monsters

It was always offputting. This feeling of being all alone while surrounded by people. It almost messed with his head, making him believe that there was something wrong with him. How could he feel so utterly forgotten when people were walking right by him? Astor felt like a shadow, someone who could be seen only to be ignored as if he blended in the background, nothing really special, nothing really to pay attention to. 

Other times though he existed to be the bad omen, the receiver of nasty stares and cruel words. He didn't know which one was more difficult to bear. To be acknowledged or not, to be looked at or not, to be talked to cruelly or to not be talked to at all. Again and again, he had tried to solve this question by himself but he never reached an answer. Both hurt, both torturous enough to cause him nightmares and tears. 

"Why did they send you? Trouble always follows you." the old woman told him as she opened the door of the closed library. It was a small building made of old wood, two stories tall filled to the brim with old books, mostly the history of the pack and the rules of werewolves, not the place you would bring your kid to borrow a bedtime story. An old woman kept it well preserved, clean, and in order but since she was a few hundred years old she needed help from time to time. Werewolves aged differently than humans, they remained alive for much longer and had even a few special abilities. Once they were old enough, tired from the life that seemed to last forever they would go and meet the moon god, asking to be brought back to this earth. Basically, even though they had no recollection of it most of them had stepped on this earth before. No peace for the dead. 

She looked at him dissatisfied and all Astor could do was gift her a small smile. Sighing she moved to the side, letting him in and leading him to a pile of old books that had been dropped in the middle of the room. 

"I need you to move these to the top shelves. My back is killing me these days and I can't carry them all." 

"Alright." he submissively agreed and grabbed a few books. He expected the grandma to leave him, go to her desk, and solve a crossword or something but she kept standing there, her grey hair strictly tied on a bun at the top of her head looking at him through wrinkled eyes. 

"Did your brother find his mate or not yet? He turned eighteen." She asked him. 

Werewolves had mates, partners they were meant to spend eternity with. Some people said that when a werewolf was born they were only half a soul, endlessly searching for the other half to feel complete. It was though a quite complicated process, of finding your other half. First, you had to turn eighteen, and then if you were lucky you would be the named Caller. Callers are dominant werewolves who would get signs about their mates through dreams and intense emotions. Then, after they found their person they had to confess, and once the other accepted they would mark each other, uniting their souls eternally. In some rare cases, the other person could refuse, driving themselves and their mate mad as punishment to the god's will but no one liked to think of that chance, werewolves worked in order, and most of them would not even dare even if their partner was trash. 

"No, not yet. It seems he is not a Caller. So he will have to wait." Astor answered her while placing the books on the shelves. 

"That's probably the only thing you have in common." She commented. "Hopefully, the girl he gets will make him a bit less of an idiot." she mumbled and Astor bit the inside of his cheek, not wanting to laugh. 

"Granny, that could have you punished. He is the Alpha after all." 

"Alpha…" she said looking at the white-haired werewolf with a frown. "What Alpha would treat his family the way he treats you?" she asked, making him blink from the surprise. For a second Astor froze, holding the book in his hands. 

"He doesn't treat me any differently from the way everyone does. That's all he knows." he defended him, not wanting this conversation to continue any longer. This was a rare occasion, one that always made him feel uncomfortable when people would not hate him or ignore him but they would pity him. Those people who were good at heart with open eyes to injustice. 

"Your mother, she was wonderful…" the granny told him. 

"Yes, I know." Astor agreed with a proud smile. Indeed she was, perfect even. Everyone around her loved her. "She was a great person" 

"You look like her you know." 

"I could never believe that I am actually that beautiful. Everyone keeps saying I look like a monster." 

"They have the eyes of your brother. That's why. Now move along, do not think that you can stall, we have more things to do." she scolded him and he grabbed a pile of books ready to sort them in their places when a loud banging sound was heard from the entrance of the library. 

Astor moved his head, peeking from the edge of the shelves curious as to what could cause all this commotion. It was a rhythmic sound that dragged on, thumping as if someone was banging a metal rod at the door. 

"Granny what…"

"Leave from the back door boy. The trouble has followed you here too." she warned him right before the doors of the library opened, revealing a group of three young werewolves. They were laughing and as Astor had guessed they had metal rods in their hands. Walking shamelessly inside one of them pushed a few books off the shelves, all for show. 

"Grannyyyy…" the other one yelled in a singing tone. "We heard you have a freak in your library today. We came to get rid of it."

Astor gulped, his heart racing frantically as his eyes landed on the old woman. 

"Don't you know you shouldn't bother old people? It's early, shouldn't you be working?"

"We were but once the word got out that the freak is under the sun again we couldn't miss our chance." he told her. 

He couldn't see them anymore. He was hiding behind one of the bookcases, hoping that they would soon leave if he didn't catch their eyes. The sound of books falling echoed once more, making him flinch. He didn't know how long he was standing there, stiff, scared. 

"Granny, if you tell us where he is we won't trash this place…"

"I think I should report you rascals to the Alpha."

"The Alpha? He is the one who told us that he was here. So how is it going to be?" they threatened her, their voices filled with mischief. What was so entertaining to them about this? Why was his suffering their bliss.

"He is behind the bookcase…" she betrayed him but Astor did not wait to hear more. The moment his hideout was exposed he started running, hoping he would be able to get out in time but he wasn't fast, not like them, he had always been the weakest amongst his peers. 

They grabbed him from the back of his shirt, pulling him roughly down and making him land on the cold floor. Hovering over him, three terrifying figures laughed, ready to enjoy themselves. Astor was looking at them with wide eyes, letting in everything that had happened. He had been betrayed by everyone. 

"Hello, little freak." they greeted him with poisonous words before they attacked him.