The Enchanted Curse: the wolf/banshee inside me

Damn is all I can say…. I guess I should start from the beginning, so you'll know what I’m talking about. Hello, I’m Sky Bloodworth. I am a month away before I turn eighteen and can escape this hellhole. Let me give you a little background about myself. I am the only child of two successful parents. I know, I know right…. Boring…hit the snooze button right. My dad was a doctor for adults and kids. I figured he had to be important because everyone addressed him as Dr., Mister, or Sir and never by his first name, which is Jason. I thought it was weird to never hear people call him by his first name when he wasn’t in the office, but I didn’t think too much about it when I was a little kid. I knew I saw people coming and going from his office when I would come to visit every week to get my allergy shot. My mom was a scientist, which I thought was cool. My mom is Joy. When people call her by her last name, that would aggravate her. She always tells them to call her Joy. Mom was friendlier than dad was. She thought hearing Mrs. Bloodworth was so strict and right to the point. Yea Bloodworth, what is your last name? I loved my mom because she would make time to be silly with me even though she was terribly busy working. I remember when she would let me into her office. I would see all kinds of equipment and thought it would be okay to touch it. When she had enough of me in her space, she would rush me out of her office and tell me to go straight home. This caused me to be a loner because I was always by myself. This also helps me to mature a lot faster than others. I tried to stay out of my parents’ way not to cause any problems for them. I knew I didn’t have any family members, or at least that is what I was told growing up. But one thing I did know was my parents worked awfully hard and stayed focused on their work because anytime their phones rang, they would always jump to answer, and they must leave the house right away. Me being little, I paid it no mind, but now that I am older, that wasn’t right. It was very strange. Some nights I would get scared because of the shadows I would see outside my window. When I talked to my parents, they would say I had a wild imagination and then look at each other. I thought nothing of it, but I was told that a twelve-year-old should not make believe of seeing things and that I should leave that for little kids. Times like this, I wish I had family members I could call and talk to; I would even settle for a good friend. All I had was my stuff, animals and the TV to talk to. Pretty lame, huh. I know, but hell I was little and closed off.