Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
The Journal of Chris Williams - 3. Journal 3
Journal entry 3:
I’ve been here for a couple of weeks now. The Columbia River Wolf Pack was generous enough to take me in after I got myself exiled from Parker Valley. The fact any pack would take me is amazing, and I know I have my former alpha to thank. Even with everything I did, everything I was charged and convicted of, Alpha Stockdale still looked out for me. When our laws recommended I be put down as a threat to the Lycan community in general, he helped me. Instead of the fate I should have met, I’m allowed to attend a university in Portland. Thanks to Columbia River pulling some strings to get me admitted so I could start this school term. I’m grateful for being given a chance at a new life here.
I only have visitor status in the territory, and my movements are heavily restricted for now. All things considered, it’s more than I could have asked or hoped for. I’m also not allowed to shift without permission. When I do, it’s in a confined area, so I can’t go for a run or hunt. That frustrates my wolf, but it is what it is. I’ll deal with it for as long as they require. I know I have to prove to my hosts I’m not a threat to anyone here. Because of the ankle monitor I wear, when I am allowed to shift, I have to do it slowly so the change doesn’t break the fiber optic strands in the leg band. A slow shift is unbelievably painful compared to a regular one. Trying to hold my body back as it reforms itself is not normal for us, nor is it easy. It’s like the agony of a first shift multiplied a hundred times since I am fighting the natural process of the change. I view it as part of my punishment though and won’t complain about it. If anyone’s around, I can see the concern on their faces after one of those shifts as I rest on my side, panting heavily, and labor to breath.
I have a small studio apartment to live in during the week. It has a cool loft kinda look to it. There’s a nice view of Mount Hood out my window. I think I was supposed to live in the dorms on campus, but the whole GPS in the trunk thing screwed that up. The units here are very nice and more than comfortable for my needs. On weekends, I report to the pack jail. Me being in confinement means my escorts don’t have to watch me for two days. Things could be worse, and I can study in the slammer same as I can in my apartment. I’m not sure if the jail thing is because they think I’ll remove my ankle monitor like Michael did. I can understand why they would want me more secured when I don’t need to go to class. I mean, I know spending time imprisoned was part of the exile agreement. I’m just not sure if the Michael issue changed anything with that.
Pretty much everyone I’ve met around here knows what I did, and it’s hard to live with that. People know I’m an exile and not some nomad living in the territory. When I’m out with my escorts, I hear the whispers or see the looks from other lycan. Still, they’ve been surprisingly nice to me. I wouldn’t call it friendly, but nice. No one has said anything to be mean. Even the whispers are mostly, “That must be him.” In my old life, I would have been the first to lay into someone for their screw-ups and try to make their existence miserable. Since I wasn’t willing to learn from the people I grew up around, maybe I can learn from the people who took me in when I had nowhere else to turn.
Because of my actions at Parker Valley, I’m not even considered an omega here. I don’t say that as a complaint against Columbia River but just as a statement of fact. Even an omega has to earn their spot in the hierarchy, and I haven’t earned anything yet. I’m only an exile; a visitor in this place. I live outside the pack, sort of like most non-wolf shifters or nomads do in a territory, except I have escorts to take me around when I’m not confined. The people I’ve been allowed to have contact with have tried to guide me in the right direction. I don’t feel like I’m being treated like a prisoner even living under house arrest. How good I’m treated is beyond what I feel I deserve.
I have two main escorts when I’m out of my apartment, Kyle and Corey. Occasionally it switches to different people, but most often it is the same two guys. We all attend the same university and our class schedule is roughly the same. They take me in the morning and bring me back in the late afternoon. It’s a bit if a drive each day, but I get to see a lot of beautiful forest as we go. Any time I’m not in class, I’m to go to the library to study or put in time with one of the labs I’m required to do for a class. If I go to an outdoor area to study, that isn’t a problem, but I need to let them know where I’m at. They’ll sometimes text me to meet between classes just to check up on me or see how I’m doing. I feel bad they have to keep an eye on me when I’m sure they’d rather be hanging out with friends, girl friends, or going to parties. They’ve never voiced any complaint in front of me, and their actions and scent haven’t said it was a problem, but I still feel bad. A part of it might be I feel bad about what I did.
I’ve got an early lecture to attend tomorrow and still have reading to prepare for it, so I guess this is good enough for writing tonight. I promised to do this, and I intend to keep that promise. Anything to get me past the dark place in my mind I’ve imprisoned myself in.
- 90
- 27
- 5
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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