Untouchable by Marii Solaria

Chapter 87

“Oh, I hope you can hear me, ‘cause I remember it clearly. The day you slipped away. Was the day I found it won’t be the same.“–“Slipped Away by Avril Lavigne

Kiya

“Come on, Hali! We’re going to be late for the party!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! It’s not my fault this wing is crooked!”

One swig and my throat burn from the crimson liquid. Housed in a black bottle, the pungent taste of alcohol overrode the sweetness of the wine, Port wine. The only alcohol I drank as a loser slumped against one of the many redwood trees in the forest.

“Your wing looks fine! As long as you don’t move it too much, it’ll be okay!”

“Easy for you to say. Your wings look perfect.”

Goddess, why am I doing this? Werewolves have a high alcohol tolerance that makes them unable to get drunk easily. We burn it off faster than humans. It takes a lot to get our kind intoxicated; probably twice or three times as much as a normal human. Either way, this supposed highlight of our abilities is proven to be a curse

to me.

“Me, as the Sun Fairy, always has to look perfect! It’s in our nature.”

“I’m the Moon Fairy and I can’t look like a mess! What would the other kids think?”

Ah, the Moon Fairy. The being I’ve dressed as for this accursed holiday called Halloween. Dressed in a white and blue sleeveless dress with shredded hems, the shimmering sequins danced to their silent tune under the moonlight. A full moon on Halloween is rare, so I’ve heard. Legend says that on Halloween, it weakens the veils to the worlds beyond mortals. It gives a chance for other–world creatures to pass through and mingle in the world of mortality for a night before retreating.

Amusing.

“The other kids would think we look amazing! Like twins!!

“At least they can tell us apart.”

Another swig. Two. Three. I hate remembering what used to be. The better days of my life before it turned into a dumpster fire my old pack willfully created. Days of happiness, freedom, warmth, and friendship. Days where I felt invincible; none of the world’s ills could touch me.

Oh, how was I wrong. So fucking wrong.

Waiting for the alcoholic buzz is a killer. The desperation for the effects of alcohol shows as I continuously bring the bottle rim to my lips every thirty seconds. This sinful liquid is supposed to be a depressant, so why isn’t it depressing? Depress these emotions and these fucking memories.

you remember your

rehearsed it

1/4

Memones of

brain! Stop it!

here to shine the

here to shine

Stop it!

here to stop the evil in the

Fuck!

the thick tree bark as my chest heaved in sobs, I thought I was strong enough to get through this night; to celebrate it

I wasn’t ready,

from flooding into my mind. Memories of Nuria that I can’t ever forget, no matter how

I

away. Breaking things is supposedly therapeutic, but I only fell

I’m more fucked up than I originally thought. No wonder I need therapy.

took more swigs of my wine before the bottle had nothing left to give. Luckily, I had another one. My fourth one, to be exact. Sniffling, I ripped the cap open and continued chugging. Why wine? There are stronger options in the kitchen; options that could get a werewolf sufficiently

traumatic memories from a single

that. It hits too close to home. So, I’m left with the strongest wine available. It’s

captain’s costume. Adorned in brown, blue, and red with a sword attached to his hip, Anthony glared

block out my

I can’t wait to

of a Friend (Part 1)

back!” I shouted, my hands reaching

the pack kitchen cabinets. Mom was wondering why several bottles of wine were missing. Lead Omega Cleo was worried about a potential thief.” Anthony scoffed. “And

whined as I stood and tried to reach the bottle of drunken haze, but my brother held it high. above his head, using his insane height as his advantage. Fucking tall people. “No, Kiya. You had

I barked back. “I need it! You wouldn’t understand!”

hands down to my

uncomfortable roots of my tree and drew my knees to

party. I

empty wine bottles is no basis for me to leave her alone.” Anthony retorted with an arched eyebrow. “And you sound like you’ve been crying. You look like

knees, hoping the couple would take a hint. I know I’m acting brattish–it’s out of my nature. It’s stupid and ridiculous. I can do better than this, but the overwhelming sensations I feel from all corners of my body are too much for me to handle. All because I’m

Eleven years after her death, the

The Novel will be updated daily. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

Comments ()

0/255