Picture this, a girl no older than 17. She has beautiful long, brown hair and she has forest green eyes. She is about 5'7. Her ashoulders are rather broad for a female and, she is reasonably thin. Her skin is fair. She looks rather plain but in a way that draws you in. That girl is me. An only child. An outcast in school. A werewolf.

The anger consumes you when you are in wolf form. It takes control. It uses you. You become bloodthirsty. You kill anyone if they are near. It takes a long time to learn to control this power. Sometimes it comes over you at the weirdest of times. It may not even be a full moon.
All the lies you hear about how a werewolf only turns on a full moon. It's all wrong. You change whenever you get to that level of anger.

When I was a toddler, I was with my parents. We were on a road trip. Out of nowhere came a van, flying towards us, high in speed. After that, everything is blurry. I remember seeing their bodies lying lifelessly. I remember the excruciating pain of the mutation. I remember the anger.

The man in the van was lying, watching me as I transformed from an innocent young girl to a beast. As I said,...