If one was to look up the meaning of the word promise one will find it means a declaration or an assurance that one will do something. And on a quiet street within a small city of Denton where the sun happened to shine a bit brighter than most days as it sat proudly in the sky, I made a vow past the tears obscuring my vision to my parents to always be a good person. I promised to keep myself away from any trouble that often came morphed in the shape and size of the dangerous mystical creatures to mere mortals who breathed nothing but death.

To my mother Angela Thompson who had been skeptical in my choice to move to a big city in pursuit of my studies I made another promise to her unbeknownst to my father, Bernard to never allow just anyone to enter my sacred temple and that when the time came to give my heart to someone I'd only give them a copy of it whilst keeping the original for myself. On that day I could tell my parents were terrified at just the mere idea of me leaving a community made up of mostly humans in Northridge that welcomed us so easily when they initially moved there over twenty years ago but they knew I needed to find myself and find a place I truly belonged. It's not that they hated werewolves, it's just that they preferred to maintain a respectable distance to avoid the chances of another war occurring. I, on the other hand was different in how I viewed the world such that as parents they'd just have to trust that the skills they taught me would be enough to rebut any evil that lurked in the dark corners in sought of all souls.

In as much as I had good intentions in keeping those promises I realized, when it comes to commitments as much as we make them, sometimes without often meaning to… we break them.

Despite being away from them where I embraced a different life I had managed to avoid any possible danger, listened to my intuition that warned me to not fall for words spoken by those with slick tongues.

And yet when I met him, my intuition became mute. It's strange when you meet someone who tarnishes the very walls you built yet makes the process of destruction so sweet and addictive.

For it was through him I grew to welcome the appeal of having my temple destroyed from every touch and kiss he laid upon my flesh whilst he baptized me into his religion. Through him I was shown that in passion paradise could be reached between the sheets but I'm getting ahead of myself in a way. And in as much as I can try say I feel terrible about breaking my promise to my parents – I can't.

And when I really think about it now, I don't think I ever will. Even if those choices held consequences even I didn't want he would always have a mark on me.

Since the day I entered the city of New York to pursue my degree in literature, the world I thought I once knew expanded and any chance I could I soaked it in eagerly lapping up the bright lights like water with a thirst I never knew I possessed. There were so many things I promised myself I'd do like learn how to ride a motorcycle and at some point go skydiving. The first few weeks were filled with acquainting myself with the environment where I was surrounded by more werewolves who had become part of our society. Till this day I can't help but feel stimulation anytime I think back on the times I used to sit by the window of my apartment with a cup of coffee in hand, staring at the sky on days it was often painted in a pewter color whilst growing fascinated with how the buildings seemed to be reaching out towards it almost as if dying to touch it. It had been over three years in this city that had quickly become my home when the quiet life I had managed to create was disrupted…

It was in my last year of university when I began working at a little coffee shop owned by a sweet, mild mannered lady by the name of Ms. Rita Friedman in order to support myself. Asking for money from my parents was becoming a bit tiresome especially when it came to having to offer explanations to them as to why the pocket money they sent only lasted a week sometimes. Needless to say there were times I went through a mini-party phase especially when I met Donovan who'd become part of the adventure I had embarked on. We had met on campus after I bumped into him on my way to a lecture; he was studying pre-law and would be graduating soon to join his father at the law firm that had been in their family for over two decades.

Unlike me, Donovan was the type who liked to plan ahead. It was one of his idiosyncrasies that made our friendship work in that we balanced each other. And I was yet to know what I would do once I finished school, one of the ideas I had in mind was to work for a publishing company, however, a part of me willing to try ignore the unrelenting fear still wanted to take a chance to try get published.

It was winter at the time, a season in which the cold chose to be our worst enemy where the story really begins. Tucked away inside the warm, toasty shop situated in Brooklyn, Crown Heights I stood rubbing the paper of one of the pages of my journal between my fingers and placed some of my body weight against the counter trying to consider what to write. Falling short on a reasonable thing to place on the paper I blew out a harsh breath and allowed my brown eyes to move absentmindedly around the shop taking in the mostly vacant seats on that late, murky day whilst purposefully avoiding Roland's annoying gaze. It was rare for us to have customers with weather that unpleasantly nipped at one's skin and despite it only being a few weeks into winter I could feel myself struggling to cope with it despite the love I had for ogling the mystical face of the overcast sky. I loved it so much to the point I even wrote a poem about it back in high school for a literacy competition.

"It's days like this I wish I had just stayed in bed," turning my head to the side once I heard Ms. Friedman's voice a small smile formed on my face at the way she was frowning. It was odd seeing her look visibly irked especially when most of the time she had a friendly smile. She was in her early sixties but considering how gracefully most werewolves aged she didn't look it and held characteristics that were similar to that of my mother. It was comforting being around her on days the feeling of homesickness etched itself against my body. But I always maintained a descent friendly relationship that was adequate between that of a boss and employee such that I only knew things about her based on what she was willing to share with me.

"Join the club but it's up to us not to deprive the public of heaven," I chuckled lightly closing my journal, I had been trying to write a poem but considering my mind had remained nothing but a blank canvas unable to decorate the page with any words I decided to give up. At that time I had been experiencing a writer's block that had been killing me and though I used to experience episodes like that before, the inability to create had gone on for weeks. She chuckled lightly coming to stand beside me, allowing my nose to take a whiff of the sweet smell of chocolate causing my stomach to immediately grumble lightly at the hunger I had been ignoring for some time. "You may have a point," she replied pointing discreetly towards a child munching on a cupcake with clear gusto as some of the icing landed on their chin. I smiled when I noticed the child's parent reach out to wipe the icing.

"My daughter, Marcie will be coming to stay with me soon," were the words that immediately made me stop paying attention to the customers to place my full focus on her at the personal detail. She had once mentioned having a child. I always figured with Ms. Friedman that she'd tell me what she was comfortable revealing, and when it came to her daughter she'd mention her from time to time. "You must be excited."

She shrugged nonchalantly biting her bottom lip, "In a way, she's been through a little bit of a rough patch so I'm hoping the change in scenery will do her some good. She's coming to the same school as you."

"That's great well I'm sure she'll adjust," I said nudging her shoulder gently when I noticed the way she pursed her lips before looking me in the eye not bothering to hide her nervousness. "I was hoping if it's not too much trouble… i-if you aren't too busy –"

"Ms. Friedman…" I gave her a gentle smile to ensure her that it was fine for her to ask whatever she needed to. Taking the hint she sighed clearing her throat, "Well I was hoping you could keep a close eye on her. She's still in her first year and I'd feel comfortable knowing she's got someone there to help her adjust."

Her concern for her daughter was evident in that moment and I couldn't help but recall the same look of worry on my mother's face on the day I left. It's a well-known fact that the world will always be a lot more dangerous for women regardless of what species they were. Danger can choose any of us as its next victim and abuse us. It was unfortunate we had this dark cloud looming over us such that without wasting another second I quickly replied, "I'll keep an eye on her," hoping that my words would be enough to dismantle any fears in her mind.

"Thank you, Giselle, I'll introduce you to her the next time you're in the shop," she muttered smiling gently at me.