"Amelia," he looked at me, his expression complex, as if searching for something in my icy demeanor. "There's a pack party Friday night. After… we could find a place to finish the last part of the project."

He was inviting me. After carrying Tabitha's scent, after I'd just punished myself with pain. What was this? Pity? Or just for the project?

I looked at his face, the one that made my heart race and break in equal measure. It felt like my heart was soaking in lemon juice, aching with a sour bitterness. In the end, I just lowered my lashes, mustering every ounce of strength to keep my voice steady, and uttered a single word:

"…Okay."

The moment I pushed open the front door, I knew there was no escaping today. The air was thick with the stench of liquor and the acrid smell of burnt potion ingredients. My mother stood at the foot of the stairs, idly twisting a small silver knife in her hand—her tool for preparing magical components.

"You saw that wolf whelp again," her voice was a venomous hiss. "The stink on you makes me sick."

"I didn't—"

A flash of silver. A sharp, searing pain bloomed on my arm. Blood welled and dripped from my school uniform sleeve onto the floor, blooming like crimson flowers.

"Your eyes get greener every time you lie," she advanced, pressing the knife tip under my chin. "Just like *his*. The man who ruined my life."

I tore myself from her grasp and bolted out the door. The cut on my arm burned fiercely, but the pain in my heart was worse. Why? Why did my own mother look at me with the eyes of a sworn enemy?

By the lake deep in the woods, I tore a strip from my shirt to clean the wound. The water reflected the rising moon and my pale face with its damned green eyes. Sometimes I truly wished I could claw them out.

The black wolf appeared without a sound. He first sniffed the air cautiously, scenting the blood, then gently began to lick the wound. A wolf's saliva has healing properties, and the pain slowly receded.

"You're here again," I leaned against his warm fur. "You know, sometimes I wish I really *was* a junkie. At least then I could blame all this pain on the drugs, not on this pathetic fate."

The wolf made a soft, comforting sound and nuzzled my cheek with his nose.

"At school today, Tabitha and her lackeys threw my textbooks into the fountain. Just because I glanced in Luke's direction as I walked by," I gave a bitter laugh. "The funny thing is, I wasn't even looking at him. I was counting the floor tiles."

As night fell, fireflies danced over the grass. I kept talking, pouring out all the grievances that had been piling up inside me for years.

"My mom says my very existence is a mistake. She says a union between a witch and a werewolf defies the natural order, that's why I'm a monster," my voice began to crack. "Maybe she's right. Normal girls don't cover their arms in scars. They don't pour their hearts out to a wolf."

Feeling sleepiness pull at me, I closed my eyes and drifted off. Soon, the familiar warmth of human arms replaced the furry embrace.

"You're wrong, Amelia," Luke's voice was clear in the night air. "Your existence is the most beautiful miracle in my life."

His fingers gently traced my injured arm, where the skin was now smooth and whole.

"I love the way your eyes light up when you read Shakespeare. I love your stubborn refusal to back down in a debate. I love the way your black hair flies behind you when you ride your bike," his lips brushed my forehead. "But what I love most are these green eyes you hate. They're like the deepest forest lakes. When I look into them, it's like I can see eternity."

"Someday, I'll tell you all this in front of everyone. But not yet. It's not time," his sigh melted into the night breeze. "Just a little more time, my moon."

The next day, I deliberately wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover the now-vanished wound on my arm. But some scars can't be hidden.

The moment I stepped through the school gates, Tabitha and her clique surrounded me. They were like a pack of hyenas spotting prey, their eyes gleaming with malice.

"Look who it is," Tabitha pinched her nose dramatically. "Smells like poverty."

Her lackey, Kate, pointed at my sneakers. "My grandma wouldn't even wear those."

I tried to step around them, but someone stuck a foot out, tripping me. My backpack fell. Someone took the opportunity to stomp on my lunchbox, crushing the simple sandwich inside into a pulp, much like my dignity.

"Oops, clumsy me," Tabitha fake-smiled. "But I guess you don't need lunch anyway. You can survive on stealing guys' attention, right?"

In the cafeteria, it got worse. As I carried my tray looking for a seat, every table I approached suddenly became "full." I ended up standing in a corner, eating quickly under the weight of countless stares.

The worst came just before third period, when I realized my backpack was missing. By the time I found it in a bathroom trash can, I was ten minutes late for class. Mr. Harris glared at me sternly. "Ten minutes late, Miss Marsh. I suppose your passion for Shakespeare is limited to shouting about it in class?"

The class laughed. I walked to my seat with my head down and discovered all my textbooks were soaked, the pages stuck together, the ink blurred.

"Need to borrow mine?" Tabitha held up her pristine textbook, her smile sweet. "Just promise you'll stay away from Luke."

In that moment, I almost lost control. My wolf-spirit snarled in my blood, urging me to tear this a hypocritical girl apart. But I remembered my mother's warning: if I exposed myself in front of humans, she would 'deal with me' personally.