I walk slowly, my hands in the pockets of my enormous winter jacket. The thing swallows me whole, and I enjoy it. It's like a big, fuzzy cocoon. I trample my way through the fluffy snow. It's hard to see with the sun reflecting off of the snow. I have no energy left in my bones, and the cold from the breeze seems to soak into my skin.

I can hardly focus on the horizon, or where I'm going. I forget that I'm on my way to work several times, having to stop and remember what it is I'm doing while I stand there in the blizzard.

Not sure what's wrong, I keep going with my head and heart pounding. I stop to take a break as I lean against a tree. I didn't know that simply walking around could hinder my strength so much. Or that I could get so confused so young. I'm basically an old person.

When I get into Doctor Melbourne's office, the wind has picked up, and it's difficult to close the door. The slab of wood slams shut with my effort. I shiver, and turn when I sense eyes on me. My boss stands behind me, an amused grin on her face.

"Cold?" She muses, rummaging through her medicine cabinet as a fire crackles in the fireplace in the back. Warmth, finally. I sigh in relief, happy to be somewhere safe so I can rest.

"A little, yeah." I laugh shakily. The lycan Doctor chuckles with me, going back to her work without another word. It's extremely cold this morning, and I try to convince myself that it's the only reason I almost didn't get out of bed this morning. Although, I know the real reason, I'm just too afraid to think about it.

I fall in line next to Melbourne, doing all the daily chores that are required of me, which isn't much. It's a small pack, and it's mostly made up of lycans who rarely need treatment of any kind. Curse those immortal creatures. I'm not jealous, not at all.

I huddle closer to the fire, reverently reading a book alongside the light, soaking up the knowledge while I bask in the heat. Though I've always loved helping other with injuries, I'm mostly studying childbirth and pregnancy. With the increasing number of mates in the pack, there are more pups being born.

Of course, Doctor Melbourne knows a lot about it, it's still important for me to be trained in it as well.

I glance up at Doctor Melbourne, who is now typing quickly on her laptop. I feel uneasy, and I have way too many questions. Questions that could reveal my secrets. But, I've convinced myself that they're necessary.

I clear my throat. My boss glances up.

"I have a question." I mumble, and Melbourne smiles. She always encourages my curiosity. She just doesn't know that these questions are important to my survival. I gulp nervously.

"It's about mates, like Lycan mates? What happens if a lycan meets their mate but doesn't... claim them? Is it dangerous?" I wonder out loud, hoping it doesn't sound too suspicious, all the while knowing that it does. Doctor Melbourne is hundreds of years old, she's not stupid.

There's surprise in her brown eyes, as well as sudden concern that blossoms out of nowhere.

"Opal, have you found your mate?" She asks, and I shake my head. I hate lying, but Keifer made me promise.

"No, just curious." I supply, scratching the back of my head as guilt sprouts. I can see the remaining suspicion in her eyes, but she answers my question regardless.

"Well, it would be dangerous for the lycan and their mate. For the lycan, they could have a lot of side affects. Mood swings, likely episodes of violence, anger issues. It would grow worse too, to the point of insanity." She explains simply, and I look away as the pieces fit into place.

Keifer's temper problem, his inability to think clearly, his destructive nature. But it still doesn't explain what's happening to me.

"What about the lycan's mate? What would happen to them if they went unclaimed." I murmur, my eyes flicking away when Melbourne looks too close. I'm scared of her reply, terrified at what could be going on.

I make eye contact with her for a split second, but it's enough for me to see the sorrow on her face.

"Opal, are you...?" She starts, her voice wobbly, I cut her off.

"What would happen?" I whisper, tears stinging my eyes. I force them away. I don't want to cry. I can't cry. It would make it real.

I hear her sigh, and then she starts talking again.

"Well, it depends on who the mate is, or I guess what the mate is. The weaker the mate, the worse it would be. It would happen over a span of years. They would become weak, and sick, loss of weight and severe depression. Even confusion and inability to shift. A slow death, essentially." Her words sting, and I run a hand under my baggy sweater, feeling the ribs sticking out from my skin.

It's as if Doctor Melbourne is reading off my symptoms on purpose.

"Opal, if you've found your mate, and they rejected you, you need to tell Alpha Veiler, he will..."

"No." I say abruptly, my head snapping up. Melbourne looks sad, and I despise the pity I see in her features. "I haven't been rejected, but I haven't been marked. You can't tell anyone. Okay? I just have to figure some things out first."

Doctor Melbourne looks like she wants to say something, and I think she wants to argue with me. Luckily she bites her lip, and then nods her head.

I let out a sigh of relief, slouching in my chair.

"But, make no mistake, Opal. If this goes on much longer, I will tell the Alpha. I won't watch you die." She insists, and the way she lingers on that last words sends a shiver through me.

Die. I could die from this, waiting for a simple mark on my neck. Why do u feel like I've known all along? I have to figure something out before I'm too far gone. I need to write to Keifer and tell him how serious this is, maybe he'll find a way back home.

After a few hours of work, I brave the storm once again so I can get back home. It's not an overly long walk, but the way I'm feeling makes it almost impossible to do.

I struggle through the 2 feet of snow, thankful that I managed to remember my snow pants this time. I'd rather not soak my pants in freezing, melted snow.

When I enter the house, I know Dad's not home. He's either on border patrol or hanging out with his friends, but I don't mind. I prefer the agonizing silence of being alone. The solitude is comforting.

I immediately go to the bathroom upstairs, stripping down and taking a long, hot shower to erase the cold from my skin. Next comes a pair of warm, fuzzy pajamas. I furrow my eyebrows at my reflection. My thin, short hair is almost dry already, and my skin has paled from lack of sun. There are dark circles under my eyes despite my need to lay in bed all day.

I stare harder, confused. Despite my best efforts, I'm still cold inside. And now I know why.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised, it's just another weird side effect I suppose.

Now I can't stop thinking about these so-called side effects. They eat me up, ravaging my brain mercilessly. I crawl into my bed, eyes wide open as I stare at the wall across from me.

The gray wall holds no answers for me. I have to figure this out on my own. I am on my own. I have no one here. No one understands what's happening to me, not even me, at least not completely. There's so many questions, so much fear and panic. I'm terrified of myself and my future. And I can't even tell my friends, or my Dad, or my Alpha. What would they think?

My deepest fear is why I'm not allowed to tell anyone. The unknown reason behind the promise that I gave Keifer, the promise that he demanded from me.

What if he doesn't want me? What if he doesn't want anyone to know because he's embarrassed of me? Is it my fault?

What if his parents get mad when they realize that I'm the reason he was having terrible mood swings? What if I'm kicked out of the pack when they find out?

My breath is raging a war inside my lungs, rushing in and out at a pace that should be impossible. I can't breath. The air won't come. I'm laying here, choking on nothing while freight grips onto mine with its spiky claws. The sensation of weight on my chest is unbearable.

I'm dying. I'm going to die.

I picture Keifer, his messy, blonde hair, and his bright blue eyes. The oxygen rushes into me like floodgates opening. I cough, I weeze, and then the tears come.

Sobs wrack my room, my bed shaking slightly as I clutch my pillow with desperate fingers. I sob slowly, letting it out at a measured to pace. I clench my teeth and close my eyes, willing the pain to go away.

I'm going to die. If my mate doesn't come back soon, I'll be nothing but bones. I don't want to die. I'm not ready. All I want is to feel happy again, but in the height of demise, it's hard to picture a moment when I've ever felt joy.

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If you're reading this, you are brave :)