Page 3 of Psycho Shifters

As the large trees swayed in the howling wind, it wasn’t hard to picture. The cold gusts rippled through the treetops, and we giggled as our perch swayed precariously.

For a long time, we sat in the treetop and told each other about our favorite stories from the library: tales of fantastical creatures from faraway realms.

Birds perched around us, and squirrels and raccoons rustled branches below. The red sun kissed our upturned faces, and we basked in our day of freedom.

Finally, when the sun drifted low and the wind began to shriek with frigid intensity, we climbed down from our haven and trudged back to our prison.

That night, back in the rickety old tavern where we lived, Dick returned from his trip.

He freed us from our rooms and informed us that a shifter from town had spotted us climbing through the trees.

Dick glared down at us both, but I stepped in front of Lucinda to protect her.

She wasn’t just younger than me; she was smaller and more delicate. Her large ruby eyes and blonde hair matched her shy, sweet personality.

We both had red eyes, but people described mine as burning flames of trouble and hers as beautiful, sparkling rubies.

I wouldn’t let the monster take the sparkle from her; in contrast, I’d never had any sparkle to begin with.

“It was my fault. I picked our locks and dragged her out with me. She didn’t want to go,” I said while I stared him down.

Dick ground his teeth, and his eyes crinkled with annoyance like they always did when I glared at him. He said my red eyes were unnerving.

Lucinda grabbed the back of my frayed coat with both her little hands, and her fingers trembled against me. I wanted to gut Dick for scaring her.

“All you do is make trouble,” Dick said.

He grabbed me by my long white ponytail and dragged me down the hall.

Lucinda cried and ran after, but I motioned at her to stay put. With a quivering chin, she nodded and went to hide under her bed like she always did when he hurt me.

I bared my teeth as Dick grabbed my neck, but I was no match for his beta strength.

He shoved me into my empty room, slammed the door, and removed his belt.

I bit down hard on my lip and pretended I was a great alpha warrior.

In my mind, I turned Dick’s violence back on him.

For every stroke of his belt, every drop of blood that left my body, I hurt him.

He screamed and writhed—he begged me to stop—as I beat him with my massive fists.

I didn’t stop; I showed no mercy.

That was only in my imagination.

Tears streamed down my face, and I screamed until my voice was hoarse and broken.

Dick whipped me endlessly.

When the beating finished and Dick left—when I slipped in my blood as I tried to stand up—I promised myself I wouldn’t cry next time.

In the library books, great adventurers never cried, so neither would I.

Even if I wasn’t an alpha, I could be strong like one.

There was no way I would survive otherwise.

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