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.

course! Do you remember your

because we’ve rehearsed it a thousand

1/4

Special – Memones of

Stop it!

Golden Sun Fairy, is here to

the Silver Moon Fairy, is here

Stop it!

we’re here to stop the evil in the world

Fuck!

stuffed inside them. My head pressed against the thick tree bark as my chest heaved in sobs, I thought I was strong

wasn’t ready, I

to stop the memories of a dead child from flooding into my mind. Memories of Nuria that I can’t ever forget, no matter how

it. I hate it

millions of stray pieces some feet away. Breaking things is supposedly therapeutic,

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

one, to be exact. Sniffling, I ripped the cap open and continued chugging. Why wine? There are stronger options in the kitchen; options

or vodka for werewolves. It’s a special beer sought by my kind. It’s also the kind that triggers a barrage of traumatic memories from a single whill. The smell mixed with hot breath throws me right back into that putrid, dingy hellhole my former Alpha loved to beat me

bottle of that. It hits too close to home. So, I’m

sweetness, however, the bottle was snatched out of my hand. Pissed, I look up to be met with the angry hazel eyes of my brother dressed in a pirate captain’s costume. Adorned in brown, blue, and red with a sword attached to his hip, Anthony glared at me with the force of a thousand suns. I know

need that bottle to block out my traitorous brain!

Alesia in her first mate’s costume with a noticeably pregnant belly. My heart softened at the growth of my niece inside the womb. I can’t wait to meet the bundle of joy in November. But my love for the baby quickly dissipated as the want of alcohol bombarded me

Memories of a Friend (Part

shouted, my hands

was wondering why several bottles of wine were missing. Lead Omega Cleo was worried about a potential thief.” Anthony scoffed. “And if I recall correctly,

a child, I whined as I stood and tried to reach the bottle of drunken haze, but my brother held it high. above his head, using his

“I need

to my sides. “There’s no such thing

top of the uncomfortable roots of my tree and drew my

party. I

to leave her alone.” Anthony retorted with an

in my 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

her so much. Eleven years after her death, the pain is as fresh

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