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ˣ‿ˣ Chapter One ˣ‿ˣ

"Move your elbow up, boy. Who are you shooting at; ground or monster?"

"I would much rather shoot at you," I mumble under my breath, getting in the correct position I was taught when I was five. I aim for the fake werewolf, which is just a dummy stuffed with wheat, closing my right eye. I pull the trigger, the sound making my ears ring as always.

I hate it.

I stay in the position as I watch the silver bullet lodge itself in a fake werewolf's head, the dummy swinging and almost dropping.

"Atta boy." Sir pats me on my back, going to the weapon table. I pull the gun down,  disabling it, and hold it with my right hand as I watch sir take the shotgun. He wears his usual hunter outfit; black boots, camouflage pants and jacket, black shirt tucked into his pants. Since they are not hunting, he has no shotgun resting on his back.

'Sir' is actually my father, but the only time I called him that was when I was young. Oh, how I wish I knew who and what he was then, maybe things would be different. Maybe I would not be in this position. Maybe I would be dead. That is probably the option he wishes he could make now.

"I was planning on you practicing with the shotgun again. I wasn't pleased with your performance yesterday."

"We're doing practice every day. Of course, I won't be good at some, I'm exhausted." I can't hold back my comment. I know this will not result in a good way, but it just had to be said. I had enough. Sir frowns, eyebrows narrow, murderous face expression forming. I am in deep trouble.

"You don't talk to me like that. And you don't complain about exercises, they're good skills you have to know to be a hunter."

"But I don't want to be a hunter!" I yell at him — too late to stop, anyways. "I want to have a normal life!"

"This is your normal life!" he shouts, the men training around on the training field stop to see how this plays out. Some chuckle or smile, this is entertainment for them.

"I don't like killing anyone or anything."

"Learn it, boy. Be more like your old man," someone says from the group, making them laugh.

"I don't want to be like him," I snapped and hit my foot on the ground. Just as I say it, my left cheek is stinging, pain radiating. My head turns to the right. I squeeze my eyes hard, stopping the possible outbreak of tears. Never show fear in front of people, especially them. That is what my mother used to say. I bit the inside of my cheek, taking a deep breath through the nose. I open my eyes and look sir straight in his eyes. We hold eye contact, the men around us silently watching, nodding to themselves or the person next to them, but I cannot think of anything but of my hatred for this man I used to call father.

"At least you can take a punch like a man."

"You shaped me well." I fight the urge to cover the scar on my thigh, feeling too exposed even if I am fully clothed.

"Yes, I did. Now. Go. Back. Training." He steps closer to me with every word he speaks until we are a few inches apart. He huffs and steps away. "George, stay with Louis. The rest of you, let's go hunting."

It does not need long for them to leave, the bastards happily walk away to get their gear. I hate what they do. What I have to do. Luckily, I still did not have to go real hunting and I hope I escape before it comes to that.

George waits until they all leave and then comes closer, putting a hand on my hip to 'comfort' me. "Does it hurt?"

"Fuck off, old man." George was almost thrice as old as me, making him almost sixty. How he can still hunt and not break back or neck, for that matter, makes me wonder.

"You looked like you enjoyed it." In the blink of an eye, his hand hits my left ass cheeks and he winks at me, his gaze flickering to my lips. I grit my teeth, my hands forming a fist. This has gone too far. I can take the comments and looks, but touch me and you are gone.

"As I said: fuck off, old man."

"As you wish, princess. I'll 'fuck' off." He starts walking away, probably to go inside the house for other weapons that are not on the table outside. He grabs his shaft through his pants, giving himself a squeeze and a few jerks off motions, while smirking at me. I roll my eyes, looking away from the cringe pedophile old man.

I cannot wait to kill him. I will make him pay for everything; I will cut off his dick and make him eat it. I can promise myself that. I just have to be patient for a bit longer.