Wolves

 

 

In one sense or another, we are all wolves. Your father was a wolf when he walked in the house, all wild eyed and furious; screaming obscenities that you had never heard before. Preying on the weakness of your mother.  Your mother was a wolf as well.  She knew that he was a strong family man, and would never leave a pack he entered it.  She had met other wolves before; crueler ones. Giving into every desire within reason, as was the way of the wolves.  Your mother was a wolf when she drew him into her den, and licked his wounds.  Her cunning was apparent when she let the pill fall from her mouth; or rather the lie, as she had not been taking them all along.

Your brother was a wolf when he wrote those checks, forging your father’s name. He was desperate and lashing out; wounded and desperate, and acting only upon instinct.

This is nothing new! Nothing you should be unfamiliar with. Especially after the way your innocence was lost.  The wolf in the park that you never saw coming.  What he did not know was that you were no mere cub. Your father was the biggest and baddest wolf there was.  He taught you to fight, to gnaw, to bite, and to maim when necessary.  The knife you carried in your coat still plunged inside his kidney as you made your way to grandmother’s.  Because you needed no Huntsman. You needed no hero in this brave new world because we are all equal, and we are all wolves.

This is a new world, and we are all wolves.

 

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