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"Raph, throw the ball over here!" Cody called, throwing his hands in the air. Raphael was sitting cross legged on the grass, drawing a picture of a horse riding a man. He was silently chuckling to himself, when the ball swooshed past him, grazing his long hair in the process.
He looked up suddenly, glaring at Cody and Ryan who were playing baseball a few feet away from him.
"I'm busy. Go and fetch it yourself," Raph replied, turning his attention back to his drawing. He delicately lengthened the horse's mane, while giving the man riding it an even rounder belly.
"Whatever. You couldn't even fetch it even if you wanted to," Cody muttered, running towards the bush which the ball had landed in. Raphael stopped his drawing and looked up at Cody. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, dropping his book beside him.
"What he meant to say was that we don't even need your help. We can do things on our own. After all, we are werewolves. Fetching a ball is nothing," Ryan intervened, trying to hide the smirk on his face.
To an outsider listening in on their conversation, it would seem pretty normal. After all, tempers usually flared in a werewolf pack. But only a person who knew Raphael well enough would realise that the statement was meant to taunt him. At seventeen years old, Raphael was the only member of his pack who had reached this level of maturity without being able to shift. He lacked even the most basic attributes of werewolves such as agility, a heightened sense of smell or even that of hearing.
Being the son of the Alpha, everyone was concerned about the future of the pack should Raphael succeed his father. It had become normal for everyone to compare Raph to his fifteen year old sister, Lily. She had shifted for the first time at just the age of thirteen, which was considered the ripe age for transformation. Raphael had come to realise that almost everyone in the pack viewed him as an outsider; a mockery of the very meaning of werewolf.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Raph asked, clenching and unclenching his fists. Ryan stood his ground, towering over Raphael. At 6"5, he was way taller than Raph. His long hair was tied back in a short bun, and a light stubble was beginning to grow on his chin, making him look far more imposing than the 5"9 frame of Raph.
"Guys, cut that out. Let's get back to the game," Cody said, running back with the retrieved ball in his hand. Raphael rose to his feet in an instant, squaring his shoulders. "I want him to explain what he means by that bullshit he just said," he said, looking him dead in the eye. Ryan's eyes began to get darker, as flecks of red began to replace the hazel. "And what if I don't?" he growled, pushing Raph to the ground. He skidded across the damp grass, grazing his elbows against some jagged pieces of rock. He tried to lift himself up, but his arm gave way beneath him.
"Ryan, stop that! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Cody exclaimed, pushing Ryan back as he stepped between the two. "There's no reason to get aggressive," he said, staring pointedly at Ryan. Grasping the opportunity, Raphael inched closer and kicked Ryan's legs out from underneath him. He staggered to the floor, landing face first into the grass. Cody couldn't help but stifle a laugh as Ryan looked up at him, his face covered in grass.
"You'll pay for that!" he growled, leaping towards Raphael. He dived out of the way just in time, as Ryan's claws dug into the spot he was just kneeling on. His fangs began to protrude as the sound of his bones cracking echoed across the field.
Right before he finished shifting, he leapt towards Raphael, who managed to avoid him by a hair's breadth. Ryan leapt at him again, his claws digging into Raph's shoulder as he pinned him to the ground. He growled menacingly, his big red eyes staring down at Raph as he bared his canines.
Suddenly, something rammed into the side of Ryan, barreling him to the ground. He rolled across the grass, hitting his head on a tree just on the edge of the field. He stood up slowly and shook his head, just in time to open his eyes and have a large branch collide with his face, sending him to the ground once again. As Raphael stared up in disbelief, his expression clouded in horror as he realised who it was that had rescued him.
"Why don't you pick a fight with someone your own size?" Lily growled, baring her extended canines at Ryan, who was shifting back into his human form. He stood up and glared at her, restraining himself as he didn't want to pick a fight with a girl. "I didn't think so," she spat, turning her back on him as she walked towards her brother who was still lying on the ground.
She offered him her hand, but Raph pushed it away resentfully and forced himself to his feet. "I don't need your help," he muttered, wiping the grass from his body. He hunched his shoulders as he dragged his feet to where his bag lied on the grass, smudged with dirt. Grabbing it forcefully, he slung it across his shoulders and walked away, heading towards the place he had learned to call home.
"What happened? Why were you two fighting?" Lily asked, running after him. Raphael ignored her and continued to walk away. Seeing that her big brother was not in the mood of conversing with her, she shrugged and plugged in her headphones, sticking her hands in her pocket. They continued walking in silence, the only sound being their footsteps on the ground. Raphael was biting his teeth, angry at himself for having to be saved once again by his younger sister. His father would be even more disappointed than usual.
All his life, Raphael wanted nothing more than to please his father. His only desire was to have his father look at him the way he always looked at his sister. Was that too much to ask?
As they reached the front gates, Lily pushed them open, stepping aside for him to walk in. Raphael pushed her aside and stepped in. He knew she was doing everything on purpose, trying to make it look like he couldn't handle the most mundane tasks like opening a door or picking up a box full of books. He was sick of being treated like he had some form of deformity or disability.
As they stepped into the house, they were greeted with the smell of freshly baked apple pie; his favorite. Heading straight for the kitchen, he dropped his bag on the counter and grabbed a fork. "How was school today, Raph?" his mother asked, ruffling his hair. "School was fine," he said, grabbing the pie as he began to wolf it down.
"Actually, he got into a fight. But don't worry, I kicked the guys ass," Lily said, running up the stairs in the blink of an eye. He froze, his fork midway in the air. His mother turned quickly, concern all over her face. "What happened? Are you alright?" she asked, checking his body for any injuries. He shrugged her off and discreetly pulled down his sleeve to cover the injury on his elbow. "It was nothing." he muttered, grabbing the pie and heading up the stairs, his bag in tow.
Safely in his room, he flung the bag aside and set down the pie on his drawer, collapsing onto the bed in exasperation. He had no intention of moving any muscle, so he stayed the way he was, sighing at the way he was cursed to live his life. When he noticed the blood starting to drip from the injury on his elbow, he propped himself up on the bed and reached behind the drawer, pulling out the secret first aid box he kept hidden. He took out the iodine and cotton wool, and applied it gently to the wound.
It had become a habit of his to hide any injury he got, in a bid to avoid his father yelling at him. If his father saw the amount of scars on his body, he would surely disown him. His mother however, tried to help him at every opportunity she got. She would dote over him like a loving mother, making sure he never lacked anything he needed. This further destroyed his reputation in his father's eyes.
A reputation which was about as significant as a speck of dirt on his shoes.
Stashing the box once again behind the drawer, he grabbed the pie once again and finished it hurriedly, staring up at the posters of muscular men all over his wall, which his father had placed everywhere, in a bid to make him appear more tough and intimidating.
As he finished the last bit of pie, a heavy knock landed on his door. Before he could rise to his feet, his father barged into the room, his eyes narrowed infinitesimally. Raphael remained paralysed on the edge of his bed, staring up at the towering figure of the man he called his father. Wearing a light blue button-down shirt with dark denim jeans, and heavily-polished military boots, he looked every bit like the most dangerous werewolf for thousands of miles around. The hair on his arms and chest formed a thick layer over his skin, making him look even more deadly than he already was.
He glowered down at Raph, a look of contempt evident in his eyes. Raphael looked down at his feet, knowing what came next. "Lilian tells me you were beaten by that kid again," he stated matter-of-factly.
"It was a mistake," Raphael muttered, still refusing to look up at his father. In a split second, he was flying across the room as Alpha Clark's left hand collided with his cheeks, slapping him several feet away.
"Have you forgotten what I told you I will do to you the next time something like this happens?" he asked, his voice cold and deadly. Raphael clutched his cheek, his cheek stinging as he brushed his fingers over the spot. His left eye was already beginning to tear up, as he bowed his head in apology. "I'm sorry, father. It will not happen again," he begged, knowing that his plea fell on deaf ears.
"Of that I will make sure," he said, unbuckling his belt. Raphael shut his eyes and braced himself as his father descended on him with the belt, the metal head shining as it made contact with his body. Again and again his father hit him, till the blood trickling from his forehead began to cover his eyes. Only then did he stop, wearing his belt once again.
"I want you to remember this the next time you're faced with any form of conflict. I will not be known as the father of a failure," he spat, looking down at Raph with disgust. He huddled into a ball beside the bed, trying to make himself as small as possible; maybe even invincible if he could.
With one final kick to the midsection, Alpha Clark marched out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut on his way out. Raphael patiently waited, counting the seconds quietly.
One...
Two...
Three...
Four...
Five...
As he heard the click of his father's bedroom door, he released a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Dragging himself up against the bed, he grabbed the discarded cotton wool and wiped a drop of blood from his eyes, managing to open them slightly. He surveyed the mess his father had made, with his blood smeared against the wall, and a tiny pool forming right at his feet.
He took a deep breath and waited until his mother would come to clean his wounds. Sure enough, she came just two minutes later. "How bad is it this time?" she asked, lifting his hands to see his face. He heard her suck in a breath, as she got on her knees and started to clean his wounds. Raphael flinched every time she applied the iodine, but other than that, he remained quiet.
"I'm sorry, Raph. I wish there was something I could do, but I'm helpless. I'm extremely sorry. One day, you'll look back on this and laugh," she said, stroking his cheek tenderly.
She had no idea how right she was about that.
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