Rosella
I drew in a breath, looked at Angelica's face, and began. "My story begins the year 2017 May 30th," I started, my voice steadying as the words came.
"My father told us he was leaving to fight at the border. I was twelve. I did not understand what he meant and never imagined it would be the last time I saw him."
I pictured his hand trembling as he closed the door. I remembered the kettle whistling in the kitchen. Even as a child, I had noticed the most minor things, which was why I had become who I am.
"What do you mean?" my mother had asked, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "Are you leaving us?"
"You know how the werewolves are, Gabriella. I cannot mess with their king unless I am ready to die," my father said, stepping closer to my mother. "If I do not go, our family will be killed by the king."
The King.
