My small feet waddled against the hard wood floor, slapping and smacking. I watched my mom as I snuck through the doorway of the kitchen, she stood tall even though she was rather short, and she whisked the batter quickly with ease. Her hands wrapped around the bowl as she prepared brownies, my favourite.

It was my birthday. My day, as she would say. It was supposed to be a good day, a happy day, a day full of nothing but love. However, by the end of it there was nothing but pain.

She turned, her luscious brown hair twirling around her glowing face the same way the skirt of a dress would. Just like an angel. "Oh, sweetie!" My mom gasped in surprise. "Why are you up so early?"

I shrugged with a wide, permanent smile displayed on my lips that no matter how hard I tried to frown would not disappear. A grin that went from ear to ear. "I don't know," I hummed excitedly, my words sounding more like 'I dunno' which made it seem like I had something up my sleeve, almost as if I was planning something bad. Could I tell her that I wanted to see my birthday cake? That I wanted to get just a little peek at it? It was meant to be a surprise.

One of her perfect eyebrows lifted, "Oh, so you didn't come down here for a reason?"

Oh no, I thought. Does she know?

"Well, all I have to do now is put the brownie batter in the pan and then-" she set the bowl on the counter, her eyes drifting towards a box that was already placed next to it, "-huh. Emery, do you think that you could put the batter in the pan for me? It would be a big help."

"Yes, Mom!" I nodded my head rapidly before eagerly climbing up onto the nearest stool, and grabbing the bowl with both of my hands. The pan was right in front of me, buttered and all, I just had to pour the smooth batter into it. That was the last step until the oven. I tipped the bowl carefully, but my curious eyes wandered over to the box Mom was looking at. The centre of it was a clear sheet and I found myself staring right into it, revealing a rainbow cake full of decorative mini candies and sprinkles. Written beautifully in frosting was, 'Happy 8th Birthday, Emery!'

"Mom, I love it!" I yelled excitedly, not caring if Dad heard me or if Mom got mad at me for seeing it. I was squealing with happiness, I wanted to pick up my cake and show it off to everyone I knew. Settling with my mom, I looked back at her, smiling with all my teeth to notice that she also had a small one that matched mine. Her eyes twinkling with mischief, something I didn't quite catch at the time.

Dad came running in, his show still playing on the TV. Some things never change. Already knowing the answer, he asked with a sigh, "Don't tell me she saw it before her party?"

"Oh, sugar," was her reply.

Gasping as my body jumped up into the air on it's own, lifting up from my bed, and instantly my hand was slapped over my mouth to cage in any scream that was about to tear it's way up my throat. Real, was my only thought, so real.

Morpheus must be really affecting me. First, I'm being chased by his memories and now my own are coming after me.

It had been hours since Leo left. The poor thing didn't get a chance to explain anything to me, he had to sit through my cry as I screeched for him to leave me alone. But, in my defense I could have done much worse than that. I could have scratched out his eyes with my short nubs for nails, or yelled squirrel and watched what that would do. But, you know what they say, don't shoot the messenger.

When Max first spotted Viviana, he spent the whole day with her. He was like a perverted bodyguard on steroids. And, then to make things go even faster between them he knocked on her family's door close to 11pm because he, and I quote, 'couldn't sleep without her'. Viviana swooned, I didn't.

It was all the same. Max, Viviana, and her parents had to talk about living arrangements. Of course, they had to give their permission for Viviana to move into the pack house. Everyone did. To this day werewolves are seen as beasts and to say no to them would be like setting a tree on fire without any intention of it burning the whole forest down. There was no conditions, or rules, or even negotiating.

Obviously, it would just be the making of a forest fire. Not only would Max hate her family with every bone in his body, but even Viviana would start to grow a resentment for them. Her parents would be glared at in the streets, spit upon, and cursed at by Max's entire pack, or most likely more. They would be known as cruel, evil, and just plain mate haters.

Nasty whispers would begin spreading around town. Oh, did you hear about them? They tried to separate mates. How awful. Stupid humans. They must be stunned to think they could possibly get away with it. Even other humans would be too frightened to help them.

That's why I'm so afraid. I don't want to be on the recieving end of an angry werewolf, but I suspect that I've already crossed that line with my so-called mate, and I really don't want to feel the wrath of the rest of them if they knew what I was doing. With not accepting my mate right away and all. Seriously, half of them still support human hating Morpheus, so what does that say for our relationship?

He's Morpheus! The Big Bad Wolf. The man who's in scary bedtime stories, the ones used to scare children and practically every single human alive.

With a shake of my head I pulled the blanket up to my chin in hopes of comforting myself and to try to get rid of the ideas that were swimming around in my mind. What if he kills me? Actually kills me? Strangles me? Beats me? Could I reject him before that happens? My heart ached at the thought, but I was quick to remind myself that it was just the mate bond.

My ears perked up as a noise flew through my bedroom. My tired eyes shooting open. My heart dropping into my stomach. It was so quiet, almost silent, just a familiar creaking from the old steps. Gently, I pushed myself up from my bed and set my feet against the frozen floor. My senses exploded as soon as the silence from downstairs was interrupted. I shoved back whatever fear I had, like I always did.

I was a brave mouse, that's for sure.

Slowly, I made my way to the door of my bedroom and tapped it open an inch or so for the light to shine in. The second floor of the house was as dark as coal, but the staircase coming up from the downstairs was illuminated with a bright light, creating a clear path for me to follow.

This is how murders happen, I told myself. Pretty sure this is how most horror movie starts.

Not listening to the warnings my brain was sending, I went forward. Slipping through the crack of my door with little to no noise, I continued my way downstairs on my tiptoes. Did I bring a weapon? No? Well, better grab one.

And so, I did. Like a thief my hands picked up the first picture frame that was in view, one that was rested on the wall beside the stairs as they led down. I held it tightly, my fingers wrapping around the thick frame until they turned white. You're just paranoid. It was a podcast in my head, and the audio kept going, and going, and going. Paranoid. Paranoid. Paranoid.

The lights in the kitchen were all turned on, but a shadow was creeping it's way into the hallway while I stood there at the bottom of the stairs waiting with legs of Jell-O. Then, all of a sudden the light above me was switched on and the kitchen turned pitch black, coming through the doorway was the figure leaned slightly forward with a hood pulled over their head.

My hands shook as I held the frame up higher, ready to smack it against the top of their unsuspecting face.

But, sooner than expected they looked up. Widened brown eyes stared into my very soul, observing me with deep concern and fear. They weren't like Mom's eyes. I could see every bit of sweetness the world gave in my mother's eyes, it was all sugar and spice with her. These ones were different. Yes, they felt like home, but they were so worn out. They filled me with worries. Do you want to leave me? Do you hate me? Do you blame me like I blame me? I opened my mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

"Emery, this is the second time you tried to attack me. Are you trying to give your old man a heart attack?"

Sorry, Dad.