My father has enforced the rule of me wearing my hood so much that he used his riches to turn it into a full fledged law. Removing my hood is punishable by death.
Overkill? Definitely!
Necessary? Probably...
I still remember the day vividly though, the day when she talked to me, and not once during that hour, did she bring up my hood.
Did she not notice?
Maybe she was trying to be nice.
She is one of the more popular girls after all, maybe she wanted to seem different?
Maybe she was making an example of her greatness and human superiority over werewolves?
Whatever the reason, I can't get that moment out of my mind.
I blushed under my hood that day, for the first time I felt something.
A little spark inside my soul that turned my sad little black heart slightly less black.
Now she's always on my mind, this must be what it feels like to love.
I like it, a lot. It makes me feel...... good inside.
I don't know what I was thinking, it was rediculous, how could someone like her love a monster like me.