—(Mark)—
Self-loathing is something that I think everyone goes through at some point in their life. I just so happen to hate the fact that I'm a werewolf. Well, Lyla thinks that I don't hate myself. It's the association I have with that night and the fear that grips me when I remember what happened.
I've lost most of my progress when it comes to controlling my emotions and my werewolf side. Since getting those memories back. It's a mental block that I need to move on from. I know that I'm on the right track to helping myself but it frustrates me that the progress I made was pushed back because of my memories.
But I'm making progress with accepting myself more in terms of my wolf side. It's not easy, but I'm trying. The pack has been working with me to desensitize my fear of werewolves. Since I've only really had negative experiences, honestly, it's been tough to let go of that instinctive dread.
We've been doing exercises, like having me shift in controlled environments or being around the others when they shift. At first, it was terrifying. My heart would race, and my senses would go into overdrive. I'd feel the urge to run, but I'd force myself to stay put, reminding myself that these are my friends, not enemies.
For the most part, I don't get nervous when it's James that shifts. Instinctually I know that James as my alpha won't harm me unless I earned it.
Lyla, especially, has been patient with me. She says it's about reclaiming my power, about not letting that one night define who I am. She's always there, guiding me through the process, reminding me to breathe, to ground myself in the present moment.
"Remember, Mark," she tells me during one of our sessions, "you are not alone in this. We're here with you every step of the way."
Her words echo in my mind, a steady mantra that helps when things feel overwhelming. The pack, for all their quirks and occasional drama, have become a family to me. They understand in ways that no one else can.
Today, we're meeting in the clearing—a safe space where we practice our shifts and work through the challenges that come with them.
The sun filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. It's peaceful here, a stark contrast to the chaos that usually accompanies my transformations.
James approaches, offering a reassuring nod. "Ready to give it another shot?" he asks, his tone light but supportive.
I take a deep breath, feeling the familiar tension coil in my muscles. "Yeah," I reply, trying to sound more confident than I feel.
We go through the motions—breathing exercises, grounding techniques, focusing on the sensations without letting them take over. It's hard, but with each attempt, I feel a little more in control, a little less like the terrified kid in the woods.
Lyla claps her hands together, beaming. "You did great, Mark! See? You're getting there."
I smile, feeling a warmth spread through my chest. For the first time, I start to believe that maybe, just maybe, I can overcome this. That being a werewolf doesn't have to be a curse. It can be something I live with, something I learn to embrace.
We spend the rest of the afternoon in the clearing, talking, laughing, and sharing stories. Normal problems for once—who's got a crush on who, who's struggling with school, plans for the next full moon gathering. It's nice, feeling like a regular teenager, even if only for a while.
As the sun sets and we prepare to head home, I realize that while I may still have a long way to go, I'm not alone. And that makes all the difference.
---
Later that night, I'm lying in bed, scrolling through my phone. A notification pops up from Noah.
Noah: Hey, how's it going? Haven't heard from you in a while. Everything okay?
I hesitate for a moment, unsure if I should tell him with everything that's been going on. But then I remember how he's always been a great listener.
Me: Hey. It's been... a lot, honestly. Still trying to deal some stuff. I'm getting better, but it's hard.
Noah: I can imagine. You know I'm here if you need to talk, right?
Me: Yeah, I know. Thanks, bro. It's just that sometimes I feel like I'm never going to be normal again.
Noah: You are normal, Mark. Maybe not the same as before, but you're still you and my brother. And anyone who matters will see that. Those that don't shouldn't matter.
His words hit me harder than I expect, and I feel a lump form in my throat. I take a moment to gather myself before replying.
Me: Thanks. I guess it's just hard to see sometimes. The pack's been helping, though. I did some exercises today to work through my fear.
Noah: That's awesome! I'm proud of you. Seriously, facing something like that takes guts.
Me: Thanks, Noah. It helps to have people like you around, even if it's just through text.
Noah: Anytime, man. I'm just a message away. Don't forget that.
Me: I won't. Thanks again. I should probably get some sleep. Tomorrow's another day, right?
Noah: Definitely. Get some rest. Night, Mark.
Me: Night, Noah.
I put my phone down, feeling a bit lighter. It's comforting to know that, despite everything, I have people who care. As I close my eyes, I remind myself that I'm not facing this alone. And with that thought, sleep comes a little easier.