I was never one to be considered a saint nor did I ever fall into the "good girl" category in the slightest. In fact, I was the cliche preacher's daughter. My appearance on the outside was that of an obedient, godly daughter. Button down shirts, khaki pants (or skirts), modest dresses, and a small golden cross on a thin golden chain around my neck. The whole pristine child act never sat well with me, and I always felt wrong.
Every Wednesday night, Sunday morning, and Sunday there were sermons to attend full of seated praying, standing praying, seated nodding, standing nodding, standing singing, seated singing. Tuesday nights were for bible study. Thursdays and sometimes Saturday morning from the wee hours (when cartoons were on) there was volunteer work to be done. Working the soup kitchen, building houses, clothing drives, garbage clean up and they were all filled with more seated praying, standing singing, and the same church madness.
My life was sheltered. Music consisted of gospel and light Christian rock. Movies were only ever G rated and usually religious movies where good and Jesus triumphed over evil. Friday nights were a time when my family tried to be "the salt of the Earth". Basically going door to door to talk about Jesus and getting laughed at.
Every bit of it felt so wrong to me, and I never felt like a real person. That was until the age of twelve when the my entire family of bible thumpers (cousins, aunt and uncles included) started to think I was a little off. A black sheep in God's might flock of pristine white lambs. A cousin told me so in the most pretentious fashion at a family gathering. I stared at her a long moment before I bit into my barbecue, ripped it apart with my teeth. I told her, "I'm a wolf, destroyer of flocks", but I never knew how true that would be one day.
By the time I reached sixteen I was sleeping in church, wearing button down shirts to cover up the Iron Maiden t-shirts and stuffing my mini-skirts into my pants. My parents fully believed that every night I was going out to bible study and gone for weekends on a youth church excursion to learn life skills to prepare me for a life I would spend walking with Jesus.
In truth, I was out drinking, getting high, going to metal concerts and winning more fists fights than most of the boys I hung out with.
Somewhere in the middle of my seventeenth year of age, I was pregnant, and kicked out of my parents godly home. I left to cries of "God has abandoned you" and "Satanic hell beast". If I were to guess, I would have assumed they wanted me to repent. They watched me as I stood on the curb with what I needed to live, the garbage cans were already filled with my other belongings. My mother cried hysterically asking Jesus where she went wrong. My father told me to never come back, and so I looked at him and said, "It's about GOD DAMN time."
From there I decided I'd be a better parent than I ever had, I'd give my child a good life and free will. However, I realized I had to get cleaned up and get myself started on a good path.
I went to a crisis center that allowed runaway teens and women in my situation to get help, and a good life. I was able to finish high school, get a job and work my way to a career that I would enjoy. Ironically, I became a police officer and eventually a member of the SWAT team.
Joining the SWAT team is part of what changed my life. After a couple of years on, we were sent in to a building to detain Russian mafia members in their "dog" fighting hide out. It was the night a biker named Andy bit into my shoulder, and the night a man name Gabriel rescued me when I was dying in the alley. Serena Maddox died that night to the world, leaving her son in the care of a god mother, and with a good inheritance to get him set up in life. I mourned the life I had, and grieved that I would never see my son again; but I eventually accepted my new fate. My new life as a werewolf.
Subject: Serena Maddox 
Sat Jun 18, 2011 3:59 pm