Nixon

••• Twenty-two •••

Two days, just two days and my life will be changed forever all because of one decision. One decision that will forever alter my future beyond the point of return. It's not a question of who I can live without...who I can turn from and watch them fade away from my life forever, only their memories left within my mind. Two days I will receive my diploma and I will be faced with two decisions, my choice made when I enter the awaiting arms of who I pick.

Nixon has placed himself against my family, now a choice for me to decide. My father and mother raised me, watching me grow up as they were with me every step of the way. My family includes parents and a sister. A sister who sees me as Lucifer's kin and someone she can no longer be around. Taylor hates me now, no longer wishing to associate herself with me as her life has spiraled down. I know of the alcohol she has stowed away in her room, the drugs that she takes at parties she sneaks out to. A week again I found her at one, Oliver having warned me she would be there. She was going lines off of another girl's breasts, taking in the drugs as I watched with disgust. I watched her get high, drowning herself in alcohol as well as I just stood by and watched. Why didn't I interfere? I've done that plenty of times before, I've been there countless times and warned her to quit, to stop her mess, and yet she calls me a bitch and does this to defy me. As for my parents, they no longer trust me nor look at me the same. Sure, I understand that they have pushed me away because of Nixon, my father knowing that I still go to him.

Father hides my secret from my mother, even though it means the chance of a massive fight. My mother can no longer be in the same room as me, to even look at me in the eyes to see who she has raised. Yet they love Taylor and know nothing of how she destroys her body and puts it on display for everyone to see. That same party she was a disgust to watch, allowing people to do shots off of her, allowing people just like Adam Kenner to see her as vulnerable and easy, someone to manipulate just to get laid. My parents believe Taylor is the angel and I am the demon. They have a right to think less of me due to Nixon, but months later they cannot go beyond conversation of the weather or grades. To my family I am a burden and someone they just want to graduate and move out to college and only see for Christmas vacation and summer.

But Nixon.

Looking to the left, I find him beside me, asleep as he lays his head on a pillow, hair a mess, and those tempting yet intimidating eyes shut. The moonlight cascades across his face, jawline on display as I simply take in the look expressed upon is face, no emotion as his eyes are shut gently and no devilish smirk or frown upon his lips.

Nixon is different. He is a different case compared to my family. For Nixon, he is a werewolf, someone who may have killed his wife. He tells a different sorry than Sybil Black did, explaining how Lillian killed herself yet there was no evidence. But there's no evidence that Nixon killed her, no reason to unless her cheating made him detest her enough to slit her neck and make himself innocent. Nixon expects me to be with his pack, to take up the duty of Luna, and hold off on a dream of university and attend somewhere closer. He offers me shelter, but from what? I've never had trouble before, not until I moved to this town. From the start Nixon was an intoxication, someone who made me cock my head and raise an eyebrow as I wanted to figure him out. He was an attraction and soon enough, we were wrapped up in sin together as I only want more of that sin. That sinful taste that makes me want more no matter how fucked up we are, how much we fight and scream, how he throws things, yells, and is rough. Is he worse than my family?

My family I will move away from...but Nixon, he is forever. Am I willing to spend the rest of my life with Nixon Maxwell?

I slide off of the bed, sliding on my shoes as I pull my hair back away from my face. Looking over my shoulder, I take one last glance at Nixon, knowing I need to go home for the night. Leaving the room, I head down the stairs, the walls bare as the mansion still appears like an isolated house. Nixon's house holds no homy features unless you count the one picture of a French bakery located in his kitchen. Would I be willing to live her, with him, with a werewolf? Opening the door, I head to my car, driving away back to the place I've come to know as an estranged house.