"You walked into the room and cut the atmosphere like a knife. Sobering mind 'cause up to now, I've just been wasting my time."
~James Arthur, 'From Me To You I Hate Everybody'

~~~

*Sawyer's POV*

Growing up part-witch in a pack full of werewolves, I've never learned how to control my magic.

My temper? Somewhat. Wolves are prone to tantrums so they're well-versed in dealing with an angry pup. Well, not exactly an angry pup that also has magic.

Whenever my emotions would get out of hand, I would lose control of my magic. My parents have tried to help me the best they can, but without another witch to guide me, it's futile.

I try to keep most of my emotions bottled up now. It seems to help a bit; my magic can't get out of hand if my emotions are buried. Occasionally, I'll slip and my magic will run wild. Like that day in the locker room. I couldn't keep everything buried and ended up lashing out. But what else am I supposed to do? I don't have anyone to teach me how to control my abilities. Sure, there are other witches at my school, but I would die before asking any of them for help.

Waking up on the morning of my birthday, the veins in my head pulse painfully. I can feel my wolf coming to life, presenting me with new power. Power that battles with the one I already possess. I gasp for breath; my body convulsing as my witch and wolf sides battle for dominance.

I don't even realize that I'm screaming until my dads come rushing in, their eyes wide with alarm. Their voices are panicked, but I can hardly hear them over my own shouting. Hands grab at me, trying to pin my convulsing body down to the bed. The bed frame begins to shake; pictures falling off the walls as I start to unravel.

"Sawyer!" My dad shouts, trying to get my attention. "You need to calm down! Your magic is out of control!"

"It's too much," I gasp for breath, feeling my newly awakened wolf wrestling with my witch side.

"Sawyer," my father steps in, his voice more stern and calm than my dad's. I suppose as the Beta, he's used to being calm in stressful situations. "Close your eyes and listen to my voice. Can you do that?"

Nodding shakily, I close my eyes and try to focus on the sound of my father's instructions.

"Good. Now, focus on reigning in your magic."

"I-It's too much, I can't—"

"You can," he softly reassures, gripping my hand for support. "You can do it, son. Take deep breaths and focus. Reign it all back in."

Slowly inhaling and exhaling, I focus on slowing my heart rate down. Once the pounding in my chest lessens, I shift my attention to the magic that's spiraling out of control. I imagine that my lungs are a vacuum, sucking up all of my magic and holding it inside of me. The room ceases shaking, and I release a heavy breath.

"Well done," father praises, brushing my light brown hair back. Sweat coats my forehead, which my dad begins to dab at lightly with a wet rag.

"What is happening to me?" I whisper, keeping my eyes squeezed shut.

"You're eighteen now," father answers calmly. "Your wolf is coming to life. It might be overwhelming, especially with the magic you already possess. We can work on controlling it so that it's easier for you to handle."

"How?" I demand, opening my eyes solely so I can glare at him. "How am I supposed to work on controlling my magic, when no one else here has a single clue what I'm going through? You can't expect a pack of wolves to train a witch."

My father falls silent at that, glancing to my dad for help. Dad hugs himself tightly as he sits on the edge of my bed.

"We'll find a witch," dad vows, and I scoff in disbelief.

"Witches hate wolves," I remind him. "How are you going to find a witch willing to come to our pack?"

"I don't know," dad responds honestly. "But we will. I won't stop looking until I find someone to help you. You're my son, and I love you. If you're hurting, I am too."

My eyes soften as my heart clenches. Whenever my parents say they love me... it hurts. It hurts because I know I'm not the ideal son. But most of all, it hurts because it's a reminder that my birth parents didn't love me, and they never will.

And I know that my dads should be enough; they are enough. I just... can't erase the deep hurt that comes with knowing my birth parents chose to abandon me. It makes it hard for me to trust anyone.

That last thought makes my mind flash to Remi. Sometimes I wonder if I was too rash four years ago. Maybe he wouldn't have hurt me. Maybe he would've stayed by my side.

...But how can I trust in him, when trust is a concept that was shattered for me before I could even talk? Deep was the wound my birth parents left behind, now forever a scar on my mind.

"It's 5 o'clock in the morning," my dad tells me. "You should get some more sleep."

I shake my head. "I don't think I'll be able to."

"Then, how about we try going for a run?" My father suggests. "You can practice shifting."

"Okay," I agree, climbing out of bed. I freshen up quickly in the bathroom, not bothering to shower since I'll need one after we run anyway. I slip on only a pair of basketball shorts and meet my dads in our spacious backyard.

My father talks me through the process of shifting, and how I should expect it to hurt. I nod along, not even flinching when he describes how my bones will have to break and reform. When he's done, he signals for me to undress and give it a try. Letting my shorts fall to the ground, I close my eyes and focus on connecting with my wolf.

I furrow my brows as I try to navigate through the thick cloud of magic in my mind, purposefully blocking my wolf. Are you kidding me? I've known wolves and witches are predisposed to hate each other, but does that really mean my own body hates itself??

I hate everything.

Taking a deep breath, I push through the fog and finally find my wolf. I coax him forward, triggering the shift. Pain rockets through my body as my bones break, cartilage snaps, and muscles stretch. Through the pain, I summon enough magic while murmuring an incantation to quiet the pain. The relief is instantaneous, making the rest of the shift bearable.

Fur sprouts over my skin; the color so white that there's an eerie, shimmering purple hue. I lift my head to where my parents are standing with awe-struck expressions. While they're left speechless, I turn and take off through the woods on my own.

As I run, I feel a strange tug pulling me towards the woods behind the pack house. Shaking my head, I ignore the feeling and continue to run, basking in the way that I, for once in my life, feel free.

***

By the time I return, the sun has already risen in the sky. I shift back, using my magic to minimize the pain before slipping my shorts back on and heading inside.

"Sawyer, don't take too long with your shower!" My dad shouts after me as I jog up the stairs. "We're supposed to be at the pack house in an hour for your party!"

I remain silent as I make my way to the bathroom for a shower. What would be the point in arguing? My parents are well aware of how I feel about being around Remi, yet they didn't seem to take that into consideration before throwing me a party at his house. My head is still pounding from earlier, and all I want for my birthday is some quiet and sleep.

Knowing that scenario is about as likely as Stone giving up his porn collection, I hurry with my shower and get dressed. A neatly ironed, button-up shirt and a pair of dress pants. For a brief moment, I'm pleased with my appearance until I remember we're going to the pack house, and I'll most likely end up with food on my clothes at some point. I shudder at the thought with a frown.

Once I'm ready, I meet my dads at the front door so we can walk to the pack house together. I keep my hands shoved deep in the pockets of my black pants while my dads tightly clasp their hands together.

Looking at their hands, I feel shame for what I said to Asher in the locker room. Gabriel was right. How could I say something that would hurt my dads if they ever found out? The idea of someone else saying that word to them makes my blood boil, and then I want to smack myself for being a hypocrite.

I shake my head, keeping my expression flat as we walk into the pack house. Gabriel will be here... I wonder if he's still avoiding me. He's probably waiting for me to apologize to Asher, but we both know my pride would never allow for that. Eventually, Gabriel will give up and we'll go back to being friends.

That tug I felt earlier in the woods suddenly returns, stronger than before. Curiously, I turn my head towards the source to find Remi staring at me intensely. My inner wolf howls as my magic comes alive in my veins.

'Mate.'

Those eyes... those dark puppy eyes that have looked at me with nothing but contempt now gaze at me with curiosity and... want. I feel my eyes flash as my fingertips tingle with the need to hold him.

When have I ever felt the desire to hold Remi?

My wolf gets louder and louder, pushing me towards my mate. The combination of my wolf and my magic becomes too much, and I give in for the chance at peace. Without thinking, I stride towards Remi and cup his cheeks. His skin is so soft under my hands, and his pink lips slightly part in shock. A delicate blush dusts his cheeks; his blonde hair dipping slightly into his puppy eyes.

Driven by the desires of my wolf, I dip down and connect our lips. Sparks erupt at the contact, and my wolf purrs contentedly. Until Remi's lips respond to mine, and it feels like a bucket of ice water is poured over me.

I tear myself away, covering my mouth in shock. Remi's legs wobble, giving out beneath him. He hits the floor, still staring at me with his round eyes full of shock. Shock that's reciprocated by every single person in the room as they stare at us with their jaws dropped.

~~~

I love writing from Sawyer's POV. Getting to write about the magic component is really fun

Thoughts??

See you next time!
-Gumbie