Whispering of The waves

I might break if they throw another of that glances at me. 

   People look at me like there is something wrong with me. And what is it? It's just the mere color of my eyes and they think that it exhibits every single secret of mine that I dug deep under my skin.

   I am gray. And in this world, In Alvera, people with gray eyes are deemed as flawed. They are pictured as harsh, heartless, and non-caring of others. Even though we are none of that. 

     I'm strange, I know, but I would not belong to any other stereotypical grays here, I swear. I had known there was something wrong with me when I hadn't shifted when I turned Eleven—At the age of Eleven, every werewolf will shift for the first time, but I did not. Since I don't have a wolf, I don't know which category I will fall under. But my mother always says I am an omega, sweet and gentle—Another distinct no grays would have, what they say. I also don't grow fangs like my parents or any other wolves. My mother had sharpened the tip of my canines for me so that I look a little like the others. 

       I walk through the market alongside my mom, keeping my eyes trained on the ground so I wouldn't be witnessing the pity of people brimming in their colorful orbs. Grays aren't sympathized all the time, they are just left out. The outcast. If the people here had pity in their eyes, it was for my mother. She is a beautiful blue, unfortunately, she got gray as a child. 

     The aroma of fruits filled up my senses as we walked over to the farmers market, the chattering of people whizzing in the evening air. I would have enjoyed the vibe of this place if it wasn't for the heat of lingering gazes on me. 

      Mom took some strawberries from the large baskets lined up at the table and put them in the little basket she had in her hands. She knows how much Lilly and I loved strawberries, however, we don't have enough money to afford many of them. She turned around to glance at me, her bright blue orbs held a question in them: Do you want any other things, darling?

      I simply shake my head and look down, self-conscious about my eye color when I stare at her own for long enough.  I heard a sigh leave her lips as she took my hand in hers, squeezing it as she guided me out of this packed place. 

  "Aren't you too quiet?" My mother's honey voice hit my ears and melted my eardrums instantly.

   "Just thinking" I shrug, my eyes training on our wooden house coming into view from the corner of the hill down— The second one from the many of the lined houses in the valley. 

      "About what?" 

      "About me" A humorless chuckle slips past my lips with the words. It wasn't needed there, yet it stubbornly made its presence. 

    "My Zera…" It was a faint voice of my name on her tongue, but it had a sad tone to it that rings inside my chest. Every time I talk about my flaws, it won't sit well with my mother. She always talks me out of my awful thoughts, saying I'm okay, making me believe that I'm okay. But now? She could not. Because I'm sick and tired of being stared at from everywhere I go. I could not be at peace with all those stupid stares on me, reminding me that I am a Gray. That I am flawed. That I could never be normal. 

      "Why am I like this, Mom?" I dared to look her in the eye and once again was captivated by the sparkle of her blue orbs like all the other times. I looked away. 

   "Darling, you are beautiful," Her fingers hooked beneath my jaw and made me look at her, and the next words that flew out of her mouth had some weight on them and I almost believed it. Almost. "You ain't flawed, that I promise you" 

     "Then what am I?" My voice quivered. "I'm fifteen and I don't have a wolf like you or father. Even Lilly has grown fangs and she is just Six. She also has green eyes like father. Why am I a Gray? Why would I have to be a Gray?" I croaked. 

   "Your eye color doesn't define who you are, Zera." She pressed, her eyebrows creasing together. 

      "Won't it, mother? That's the world we are living in."

   She just stared at me, no words. 

     We walk home in suffocating silence, no one utters a word. But in my head, the life I'm having and gonna have played like a horror movie, making my blood turn cold.

    When I took a glance at my mother, the look on her face told me that she was thinking out loud just like me. But I couldn't hear any of her thoughts. Just as she could not hear mine.  Sometimes I wish I could hear their thoughts just like my fathers can hear my mother's and she can hear his. But it only works with bonded mates. And I'm not sure a wolf-less girl like me would ever have a mate. 

     I didn't realize we were on the doorstep of our home until Lilly's squeal touched my ears. My eyes flickered up from the ground to the giggling mess of my little sister in a green silk dress—Poor or filthy rich, people in Alvera only ever wear silk, we can buy silk without even giving a coin. But there is luxurious silk that we can never afford too— jumping up and down from the garden and flying to us like a butterfly. 

   "I can smell strawberries!" She squeaked, trying to snatch the basket from mother's hand. But she doesn't let her. 

    "No, no. No touching." She took some steps back from Lilly, "Not until you take a bath." She scrunched her nose as she gazed down at Lilly's messy form. 

     With a huff and a stomp of her little foot against the wooden floor, she stared at her little muddy hands and frowned, her pink lips jutting out. 

       "No worries, my Lilly. We can take a bath together" I smiled down at her. 

   Her head snapped back to me and the gleam on her green orbs could probably light up the night sky. "We can?" She smiled so big and I could see her small canines poking out. She always preferred going to the lake more than mother bathing her here even though she had never seen the said lake.

        "Yes, but you would need to step back to the garden till I get our clothes, otherwise you'll ruin the floor." I pointed at her and then back at the garden, where she was probably making a mud cake. I can see flowers sprinkled on top of the mud clay shaped hardly like a cake on a wooden piece on the green lawn. A small pot of water beside it. 

      Lilly frowned at me for a split second and then ran back to the garden with a yell, "Come back fast. I don't have much patience, my Zera." 

    My laugh swirled with Mother's dangled in the air between us.