For tomorrow

"But he's your son, and it's going to be one of his most important moments in life, how could you not go just for a get together with your friends?!" My mom was almost yelling at this point, while I was sitting silently eating my food.

"He doesn't even do half the work I do! Why should I have to give up Poker night to drop him off at someplace to find a lover?!" My dad aggressively yelled at my mom, making my mom start to feel aggrieved.

It must have stung my mom's heart since she cares about mates and their whole beings as precious, yet her mate holds no respect for her or the beings of mates. Even if I wouldn't have been born, I wish my mom would have a mate that treated her how a mate should treat their lovers.

Sometimes I feel they don't love each other, just that they got used to each other company. I wanted to ask my mom many times, but that would just hurt her feelings.

it's not like you have to be with your mates, you can reject them if they're trash like my dad, but yet you always have those people blinded by "love".

I didn't even notice that my dad was yelling at me until he came over and grabbed my neck. He did something like this when I was younger. I was crying because I was going to miss my bus since I couldn't get socks, and he grabbed my throat because I was being too loud and woken him up from his drunken sleep.

He pushed my face against the table harshly, slamming my face next to my plate of food. I heard growls being exchanged between my parents. He's holding my neck too tightly. It hurts, but it's going to leave marks.

He gave me one last squeeze with his werewolf strength, and finally released my pain-filled neck.

I heard a slam before lifting my head slowly up. I didn't even realize the fact that I'm bleeding right above my forehead. Blood slowly oozed out, flowing over my eyes.

I glanced at my mom's pain-filled eyes. She was frozen across the table, staring at the fresh wound.

I picked up my plate, walking over to the kitchen trash can, scraping the plate off, and placing the plate in the sink.

Walking away, I went upstairs to my bedroom, and slowly closing the door. If my m felt so bad, she would've left him a long time ago, so I lost all hope for that. My room was plain and empty, only having a bed, table, closet, and bathroom.

The bedding was black, along with the table. While the rest was a faint white color.

I plopped down on my bed, kicking off the slippers. I gently touched my wound, flinching at the quick shot of pain.

Great... not only do I have to go to that place where my mate might be, but I'm also looking like I got beaten u ith these fresh wounds, not even counting all my old wounds, or the scars I have.

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