Pronunciation of muh-KI-yuh

muh(as in mustard)-KI(as in kayak)-yuh(as in young)

~ * ~

- "ine."

"Come down here, you worthless piece of shit!" A voice bellows, startling me in my task of zipping up my bag.

My breathing becomes shallow and my heartbeat echoes loudly in my ears. I gulp and try to force myself to stand up from the dingy cot I'm sitting on. My wide, panic-filled eyes flit around my room, around the worn grey walls that could use a good coat of paint, and the small study table bought on a yard sale last year, trying to latch on something, anything that might help me escape from having to face this. The still ceiling fan that hasn't worked in years seems to mock me, telling me that there's nothing here that's worth a full penny.

"I know you're in there, bītch!" The voice, hoarse from years of smoking, hollers again. I jump slightly, and my fingers tighten their grip on the edge of the cot of their own accord.

'Stand up and go, Micajah. Or she'll pull some other shit, later!' I yell at myself desperately, and when a loud bang is heard downstairs, I muster up everything in me and stand up. I swallow heavily and shrug my backpack over a shoulder, making my way of out of my closet of a room.

I close the withering wooden door gently behind me, not wanting to piss her off further. I send a silent prayer to the Goddess to help me as I traipse down the stairs, making the least amount of sound as possible. My sneakers make a loud 'crunch' when my feet hit the base of the stairs, making me cringe.

I look down to see that I've stomped on pieces of broken glass littering the floor, glass that wasn't there last night. She must've thrown something accidentally or on purpose, after I'd gone to bed, I realize; wincing when the sound echoes across the too silent house. I curse my bad luck because now that the sound has alerted her drunk brain, she would've sensed my presence.

"Hurry up!" She yells, and I flinch at the plain harshness in her voice. I rush across the hall to the kitchen, not paying attention to anything else that I might step on, seeing as there's no point in trying to be silent anymore.

"Give me my breakfast!" She shrieks, the sound similar to that of a dying hyena. I open the fridge hastily, pulling out the eggs and the other ingredients from it. I grab the pan hanging from a hook to the side, and set it in the stove, quickly hurrying with my work to prepare her breakfast.

Five minutes and two rude comments later, I have eggs and bacon ready. I set the plate in front of her on the bar counter, and take a quick step back, putting much-needed distance between us. She takes one look at the plate and her glazed eyes — which were once a beautiful shade of cerulean, I'd been told —narrow in disgust.

"What have you done? You expect me to eat this!?" She exclaims, shoving strands of greasy blonde hair off her face. I cower slightly as I duck my head in instinct, but nod timidly anyway.

"It's e-eggs. Y-your f-favourite." I reply in a whisper, my voice breaking into a nervous stutter; like it usually does around most people I'm uncomfortable with or people like her who've done nothing but made my life a living hell.

"Are you talking back to me!?" She shouts and before I could comprehend what's she's about to do, she grabs the beer bottle by her side in one swift motion and throws it. My eyes widen, but in that infinite second, sheer instinct takes control and commands my body, making me hunker down in the last millisecond.

Phew.

The glass bottle slams into the wall behind me, shattering into a million little pieces. But I'd still been a second too late, as a piece of glass grazes my right ear. Another small shard had scraped my temple as well, and I feel warm liquid oozing down the stinging cut. I hiss lowly in pain, but she ignores me, and just like that, she digs into the food, acting like there's no tomorrow.

This is her reaction always; an effect of the mental condition she's been diagnosed with. She yells at me, but eats the food I make, while I escape to school without her notice.

What a pitiful excuse of a mother.

But no matter what she does or makes me do, I tolerate everything because she's my only family. As far as I know, she doesn't have any siblings or relatives in any other pack, and as for my father, well, not all of us have one. I'm not compassionate enough to love her or anything. I just ignore the badness in her. After all, it's because of me she's suffering like this.

I grab a napkin from the drawer and dab gently at the cuts, wiping away the blood. My Wolf is weak due to severe malnourishment as a kid and lack of training, so my Werewolf powers are weak as well. That's why I don't heal as fast as the other Wolves. I wipe the last of the blood and check myself for any spots on my t-shirt. I find a small blot on my right sleeve and ignore it, as it is way too small to be noticed. Thank Goddess.

I push the rim of my glasses up, hike my backpack higher, and throw the bloodied napkin away on my way out of the house.

Now, it's not that I can't see without glasses. I can, and in fact, my vision is better than that of normal humans. It's just not on par with the other wolves. So when I look too hard at tiny things or read too much, my head starts aching and eyes start to tear up. That's why the pack doctor had kindly suggested that I wear glasses with a minuscule amount of power in them.

I sigh as I close the main door behind me and hide the keys in the flowerpot — easy to find, I know — but it's not like anyone's going to come and rob my house. One look at it and even the biggest robber would lose the urge to rob. It's in such a shabby and worn-out state.

It takes a five-minute walk to reach school, thankfully. That's because my house is situated on the border of pack territory and one can find all establishments in and around pack land — which is called no man's land, lying between our pack and the Mordecai pack.

The two packs are the only ones that are situated the closest to each other, out of the eighteen packs in the US. It had been a problem on who would get which land, but it was all solved 15 years ago, when the Alphas had made a treaty, and now there are no fights regarding the border, with peace prevailing between us. To encourage this, our packs agreed to have one school common for both of us.

Once the inordinate steel gates of Greenville High comes into view, I grimace unintentionally, seeing as this is my least favorite place in the whole world. I chide myself for being a coward and take a deep, shaky breath, then step inside it with a brave smile on. But since my head is hung low, I doubt anyone notices it.

I climb up the short set of stairs and enter the building without running into any trouble, which does a lot to lift my mood. I walk up to my locker leisurely, a small smile still etched onto my face. My smile widens further when I spot Lenora Andrews, my best friend since – well, forever, leaning against my locker.

She's clutching her books tightly to her chest, looking around – probably searching for me – with wide eyes. Finally, those twinkling emerald orbs land on me and she smiles that hundred-watt smile that usually brightens my day.

"Hey, Mike!" She greets enthusiastically, "Did you hear about—" She begins, but when she looks at my face, her wide eyes widen further; if that's even possible, "Whoa! Is that . . . Is that a smile I'm seeing on your face? Who are you and what have you done to my emo best friend?" She screams, almost deafening me in her shock.

Several heads turn our way and she ducks her head, slapping a hand over her mouth in embarrassment and panic when she realizes that she's gaining attention. Wouldn't want to add more trouble now, would we? We have a lot on our plate with the bullying as it is.

"Nah. It's nothing. I'm just happy since no one gave me shit this morning," I shrug and she smiles empathetically. She can understand what I mean because, although her situation at home is not like mine, she goes through a bit of bullying too. It's not as brutal as I'm put through, and I'm eternally thankful to the Goddess for that.

"Wow, that's great! I hope your whole day goes by — wait, is that blood!?" She stops mid-sentence once again, her thoughts sidetracked when she notices the small gash on my temple. I wince as I remember how I got it, and apparently, it is confirmation enough for her to fly off the hook.

"That son of a bîtch—okay, daughter of a bitch, or is it bastard? Whatever. How dare she! You're her own flesh and blood—"

"Nora! Stop it! She's didn't do it intentionally. She was drunk," I claim defensively, but we both know that it's not true. Her face softens considerably at my pathetic attempt at lying, and she raises one hand to cup my cheek softly, her thumb rubbing across my jaw in a soothing motion.

"Why do you put up with her, Mike? You can just . . . file a suit against her or something. Hell, letting the elders know of the atrocities going on here will be enough!" She exclaims, fuming once again. A few strands of blonde hair that had come out of her ponytail and frame her face take the edge away from her glower, giving her an angry kitten look, instead of the murderous intimidation she was going for.

I chuckle bitterly at her anger, knowing that her suggestions won't work. Our Alpha knows full well what's happening in his pack, but does nothing to stop it. And it's a next to impossible task to approach the Elders without the Alpha's permission.

"Don't worry about it. It's nothing I can't handle. Now let's get to class before Mr. White rips us a slip," I say and grab ahold of her elbow, leading her grumbling self in the direction of our homeroom.

~

"What's all the buzz about?" I question Nora curiously, falling into step with her as we make our way out of English; the only class that we have in common besides homeroom as she'd chosen a variety of science subjects, while I'd stuck to Accounting and Economics and a few other business subjects, along with History.

"I don't know much. All I heard is that two new students have joined our school. Wait a sec, I'll ask." She says, shaking her head. She then grabs a passing freshman by the elbow, making him jerk to a stop in surprise.

"Hey. Do you know who the new students are?" She inquires and his eyes widen the size of moons.

What's wrong with him?

"Um," he gulps, "I-It's Alpha S-Seneca Mordecai and Beta E-Ezra Harland of the M-Mordecai pack," He stutters nervously and I want to roll my eyes at his over-exaggeration, because, c'mon! It's not as if merely saying two people's names out loud meant danger. Nora gasps in shock and her grip on his elbow loosens, which he takes as an advantage to escape and scurry away.

"What?" I ask, thrown off the loop by her reaction. This seems to pull her out of her reverie and her head swivels in my direction so fast, I'm surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"You don't know who Alpha Mordecai is?" She caterwauls, her eyes widening again to the size of saucers.

"Um, the Alpha of the biggest pack?" I prompt, wondering the reason for her overdramatic reaction.

"Of course, everyone knows that! But don't you know why she's feared and respected so much?" She inquires, her tone now circuiting to a low whisper.

"I don't know. Why?" I shrug for the sake of humoring her, not really curious since she has a tendency to believe in gossip and exaggerate things. You never take Nora's words seriously if it concerns an actual person. It most likely will end up being some twisted version of 'he said, she said', and also highly untrue.

She turns her head right and left as if to check if someone is overhearing our conversation. Now, that's something she never does. She usually rambles on and on about whatever she heard and doesn't care what the world thinks about her, and this strange action succeeds in piquing my curiosity slightly to hear what's she's about to say.

She then leans close, cupping a hand around her mouth. "Rumour has it that she killed singlehandedly the twenty rogues that attacked her pack the day she took control. Apparently, they thought that since she's a girl she would be weak and that they could defeat her easily. It is said that she was in such a fury, that she just went on a rampage, killing everything in her path." She glances around once again. "She kills without a second thought." She adds in a whisper, her voice barely being picked up by my weakened senses. A shiver rolls down my spine at hearing the last part, raising gooseflesh all over my body, despite my suspicions that the story might be hugely fictional.

"Oh," I say meekly, not knowing whether or not to take her word that a killer is studying among us. For some twisted reason, something in me dislikes the prospect of calling her 'killer'.

Must be the over exhaustion and lack of sleep.

"Stay clear of her, Mike. You suffer enough already with one Alpha. Who knows what she'll do if she sets her sights on you. Predators like them prey of people like us," Nora lectures, earning a small nod from me. I feel like I should stop her from assuming and saying such things about a girl she has never met in her entire life. Who are you to judge a person you've never met? I want to challenge. But another part, the submissive and scared part who's been tormented by Chance all his life, wants to run for the hills to protect myself.

What's wrong with me?

"Hello! Earth to Micajah! Are you there?" Nora calls out, pulling me out of my conflicting thoughts. I jerk back to reality and give her a sheepish nod, which in turn makes her mock-glare at me.

"I said, 'I'm going to the library to pick up a book. I will see you at the cafeteria'," She repeats, pronouncing each word slowly as if she was speaking to a person who can barely understand English, mocking me further.

"Okay! Okay! I got it!" I roll my eyes.

"Alrighty then! 'Bye!" She waves and sprints off, not waiting to hear my reply. Such a hyperactive person she is, I think, shaking my head in amusement.

I walk to my locker with a small smile on my face, but it fades the second I see the people standing beside it. Or more accurately, beside Chance Parker's —my bully extraordinaire who also happens to be the son of my pack's Alpha— which is conveniently next to mine, thanks to our last names.

I hesitate for a second, contemplating my options before concluding that interrupting them and becoming subject to their beating is not worth keeping my books in my locker. I turn around to leave, but much to my dismay, one of them had spotted me.

"Hey, nerd!" I freeze, thinking whether I should make a run for it. But then again, they are jocks and warriors and they'll catch me anyway. So I stop and I turn around slowly, my head hung low to avoid the acidic looks they're no doubt giving me.

"You're here at the right time," I hear Chance say, and the sounds of his footsteps follow before his shoes come into my line of vision. I stand there mutely, knowing that saying something would just add fuel to their bullying as they would twist my own words around and use them against me.

"So. What do you think of the new student Seneca?" He interrogates, his voice sounding eerily calm and sending me into a panic. Chance Parker is never calm.

"I-I haven't s-seen h-her yet," I mumble, making him laugh out loud. Honestly, I don't know what the joke here is.

"Well, she's a bitch." He declares and out of nowhere, his fist swings out, crashing with my gut brutally. The force knocks the wind out of my lungs, and the impact makes me lose equilibrium and crash to the ground.

I moan in agony, clutching my stomach as the group of six moves from their position against the lockers, to form a loose circle around me. I push myself up with my elbows and make a move to get up, but one shoe connects with my right thigh hard, probably bruising the bone.

"Ah!" I shout in pain, as my whole leg feels like someone set fire to it. I clutch my hand to it and shout out when another blow is landed on my other leg, making tears of pain gather in the corner of my eyes.

"You worthless piece of shit," He growls menacingly, his muddy brown eyes set in a hard glare aimed at me. I open my eyes with Herculean effort and flinch when I see Chance pulling back his fist, raising my arms in defense. But to my utter surprise, the blow never comes.

Instead, a loud 'crunch' resonates through the hallway, surprising me along with everyone else. I tentatively open my eyes once again, peeking from behind raised arms from my lying position. What — or more correctly who I see takes my breath away, every fiber of my being stirring at the incandescent sight.

There, standing there like an avenging angel over the groaning body of Chance on the floor is a girl. But 'girl' would be too simple of a word to describe her. Her red hair flows down in luscious curls, framing her heart-shaped face, which is set in a furious scowl. But her scowl, unlike the other girls', doesn't give her a kitten look. Instead, it is the definition of deadly, with the hardness in her eyes and her dark brows pushing down adding effect.

Her feline eyes are a stormy grey, the electricity in them, static. Her sharp, straight nose accenting her full pink lips that are shaped like a cupid's bow with such perfection, giving her an otherworldly look. No, the person before me is not a girl. She's a Goddess.

The jocks bow their heads in submission, murmurs of "Alpha," passing around the group. My Wolf gets agitated and keeps on saying something but I ignore his persistent calls, fixing my entire focus on her, as my fogged brain is not able to register anything except the exotic beauty standing before me.

Her steel-grey eyes, change their focus from Chance and roam around the circle in one swift movement before they settle on me, darkening, yet instantly softening at the same time.

Finally, her pink lips part to let one word escape them, the one word that changes my life.

"Mine,"

Girlpower, baby! I've been waiting for the girl to say 'Mine' forever, but then decided that since I wanted it to happen so badly, I should probably write it. LOL.

DEDICATION: AndRuinThePlot

If you enjoyed this girl-power show of ass-kicking, please do