"You're pathetic Mary. What happened huh? Life gave you a little pressure so you decide to turn towards drugs and alcohol? Is that how you solve your problems?"

"Shut up Darren! You have no idea what I go through every morning when you abandon me at home-"

"Abandon? What do you think I do when I leave the house every morning Mary? Go to a strip club? Hire a prostitute? For fuck's sake I go to work! To earn money for us! To earn money so that we can survive! Is that what you call abandoning? I made you a promise that I would stick by your side through all of this, and I did! What did you do Mary? You turned towards drugs? Alcohol? You call yourself worthy of being a mother-"his words were suddenly interrupted as she slapped him straight across the face. "Go ahead, Mary, do what you'd like, but this ends now. You're done with the brew, in fact, the brew is done with!" He yelled, picking up the phone on the kitchen counter to call the police.

In no time the phone was snatched out of his hands and thrown across the room, shattering on the wall before the pieces clattered on the ground.

They fought with rage, their hands all over each other. She grabbed his neck, strangling him with all her might.

"I hate you!" She yelled as he pushed her off, making her stumble backwards.

There was a pause between them, rage radiating the atmosphere. He turned back around to pick up his cell phone, attempting yet again to call the police.

But it was right there and then he didn't realise that she had pulled out a gun from her back, and had aimed it towards him, and without a second through, she pulled the trigger.

"Elisabeth! Open your eyes for Christ sake!"

My eyes snapped open, my body sprang up perspiring and gasping for air. My eyes fell upon the man whose hands were on my shoulders and whose eyes were boring in to my own.

"Ryan? What are you doing here?"

"I came to ask if you wanted to grab lunch or something. I could hear your panic from the porch and since your front door was open I came in to see what was going on. You gave me a fucking scare! What the hell just happened?"

"Nothing, just a nightmare, sorry" I responded, pushing the sheets off my body. He nodded wearily, the sound of his phone causing him to elevate and fish his phone out of his pocket before walking out the room to answer his call.

I took advantage of the time and stepped into my bathroom, brushing my teeth and hopping into a quick shower before getting dressed.

The first thing I saw as I stepped out of my room was a worried Ryan whose head was buried into the nest of his hands.

Now don't get me wrong, I am NOT and emotional person, but I had never seen Ryan as worried as this. So I let my curiosity take over.

"What happened?"

"Nothing" he quickly responded, restoring his smile. I remained silent, as if telling him that I didn't believe him which he seemed to pick up easily as his smile dropped and he sighed. "I don't want to drag you into the drama of the most fucked up family on planet earth" at his comment I scoffed, walking right past him.

"Clearly you don't know anything about me" I mumbled, forgetting about his enhanced senses.

"You're saying that you're family is worse than mine?" I remained silent at his question, thinking deeply about how to respond.

"Curiosity killed the cat" feeling proud of my response, I turned towards the counter, preparing myself a cup of tea.

"Well it's a good thing the cat had nine lives then" he surprised me by responding. Stopping my actions, I turned back towards him, noticing the same fishing curiosity in his eyes as they were in mine.

"You want to know about my family?" I questioned again, this time clearly.

"Yes" was his simple reply.

The only question was, would I tell him? Should I tell him?

Could I hide my past from someone who I am destined to be with the rest of my life?

Despite my unemotional attachment to him, I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost the privilege to remain unaffected emotionally by anything. So why hide?

Neither was I afraid nor ashamed by my past.

So why hide?

I walked towards the opposite side of the table and sat myself down on the chair, facing him directly as he waited for me to begin.

"My mother was 17 years old when she got pregnant with me. Of course, at first, her and my father felt nothing but excitement at the opportunity of blossoming their love in a more enhanced way, with a baby, so it didn't occur to them that they were too young for such a decision. My father was one year older to my mother, so as soon as he could, he started working to earn money.

My maternal grandparents were against providing money for me and my mother since for them the news struck them as complete shock rather than excitement. My father's parents were inexistent, His mother dead and his father never present.

After I was born, my parents showered me with every bit of love and gave me anything I wanted. However, happiness doesn't last forever. During the economic crisis, the company my father worked for required him to spend more time at work rather than home. All the while my mother would stay at home to take care of me. Eventually my mother got sick of it. She started behaving oddly. At first it began with forgetting to pick me up from school at all until the night, and then she began disappearing from home.

One night she came back home completely drunk and high. My father was absolutely furious with her, but eventually let it go as a one off, thinking that perhaps she was under too much pressure. But, as time went by it became worse, there were days where she wouldn't come back home and others where she would come back home with all these bruises on her face.

One day my father followed her, and found out that she was part of an illegal underground fighting ring called the Brew. She began fighting, taking drugs, drinking too much and getting involved with other people too, sexually I mean.

When my parents came home, they fought; my father began to threaten her and picked up his phone to call the police. I was standing behind the staircase; I was 16 at the time, a completely helpless teenager. That's why, there was nothing I possibly did when my mother pulled out a gun and shot my father straight in the head, ending his life in an instance. I ran up the stairs and called the police from my room.

When the police showed up they arrested my mother for first degree murder and sentenced her a lifetime of imprisonment.

I was sent into foster care. The first family I was sent to was wonderful, they gave me so much love. They were even going to adopt me, but three months after my arrival, something went wrong with the paperwork and I was shipped off to another home. This one, not so good. It was a perverted old man who didn't give a shit about me.

I was angry, and I hated my life, so I ran away. But I couldn't survive that long, so I did what a desperate person with bottled up rage would do.

I joined the Brew. Of course that didn't last long. They provided me with shelter, but when I saw what they were capable of, the things that corrupted my mother, I found myself looking into a reflection of her life. So I decided to take another path. I decided to end the Brew. As unbelievable as this sounds, I started working for the police, I gave them Intel and details about the Brew to bring it down. As risky as it sounds, it wasn't, at that time no one would suspect a 17 year old to work undercover, so at the end of the year it all worked out. We put an end to the Brew.

As a thanks, the police found a way to grant me an early emancipation, and I lived on my own, I worked shifts at various restaurants and shops and kept myself going.

When I turned 18, I joined the army. I was a third generation British marine for three years before they found me unfit and banished me.

I tried to go back to my old life, but I couldn't. England has too many burning memories for me, so I left. I gathered everything I had, and moved to New York City where I joined the police academy and here I am, 4 years later, detective for the NYPD. Mate to an Alpha Werewolf."