✔️| The Gift of a Curse

Because of my better judgment, I fear that my hope will eventually backfire. I can never be sure of my future, not when there is an ambiguous curse with my name on it.

As an alpha, I really hate to admit it, but I know that every person in the Open Wound territory is aware of my terror of this curse. Somehow, I know that my people’s trepidation is triggered by my own. After all, their future depends on mine; a pack’s familiarity and strength depends on its alpha; the one who holds them all together.

The curse is my punishment for the unspeakable act that I committed five years ago. According to the Amazonian warriors, I have wrongly and unrightfully took six innocent lives. They did not bother to look for the truth, and if they did then they did not care about what they found.

Truth be told, the accusations are not just accusations; I did kill six people in the accurate description that they declared in my trial. The circumstances, however, are different from what the whole nation thinks. They do not know why I did what I did, why I made sure to make these six people suffer before they met their end.

No one knows or understands the fury that consumed every part of my existence; it did not fade until I watched the light forsake their eyes. I did not just want revenge, I wanted justice. I wanted justice for a soul that has been oppressed so that others can gain power and maintain authority.

I had to be the cruel voice to a silenced one. I had to be the villain in the eyes of the majority to be a hero to the minority.

In the end, a part of me is holding on to this fear because it keeps me from getting carried away by things that I should not consume me. Thus, in a way I would be protecting the last part of my sanity.