My mom called me many times in the last few days. I am a horrible daughter for not even calling her back. No, I sent them a text with the words: I am fine, call you soon. Love you.

I am a poor excuse for a daughter. I am their only child, living across the world and I’m ignoring them. Well, not anymore. Igétas is right, I do need to know more about my connection with him, with the werewolf world.

I still have no idea how to bring this subject up in the conversation.

I take the phone off the cabinet, pressing the land code and my home number. It should be around late afternoon in Holland. The telephone rings three times. I cross the room, standing in front of the windows. I can see the grass court and the woods. It is beautiful to watch this amazing view. I open a window and the forest smell fills my nostrils. I feel a little breeze on my skin when I hear my mother’s voice.

“Hallo?” She asks, and I am happy to hear the familiar voice of my mom. Every time I hear her speak I get homesick and I want to hold her.

“Hi Mom, how is it going?” I try to sound cheerful.

“Violet, it is nice of you to call me back, after days of getting just a text with no more than ten words.”

“Yeah, I am sorry, I should have called earlier.” I am happy to speak my native tongue. “Are you mad?” I ask timidly.

She sighs and I know it is over. “No, I am not mad. How is everything going?”

My parents don’t know about the ‘’dog attacks’’. I told them I was too sick to go to school. She talked to Rose and she told her that she looked after me like I was her daughter.

“A lot happened in the last couple of days. A dog bit me.” I tell her, because she should know about it at some point. My leg and arm are covered in scars.

After telling her for the tenth time I was fine, I ask about them.

“How are you and Dad?”

“Oh, everything is wonderful! Your father is working hard and I am taking up a new hobby, flower arranging.” She sounds so happy.

“Yes, I saw the photos online. You are becoming very good at it.”

“Thank you. So what’s new?” I can tell that she is busy because of the background noises I hear.

I can tell her that I met someone. That I have a boyfriend, but it might freak her out. We all joked about me falling in love with an American and not returning home. I didn’t speak about it with Igétas, but I think that is exactly what is going to happen. So I decide to let the subject rest for another day.

“I, uhm, I found something out about myself. I can’t tell you what, but…” this is so hard. “But I need to talk to you about it.”

The background noises stop and she asks me what I mean.

“Do I-are you- Am I your daughter?” I rush the words out.

“Excuse me? Of course, you are our daughter! Do you think you are adopted?” She sounds mad.

“Maybe.” My voice sounds small. This is harder than I thought.

“Violet Visser, you saw the pictures of me in bed with you being only a minute old. How can you think that?” Now I know for sure that she is angry. Well, it can be worse than this, so I ask the most difficult question.

“And Dad is my dad?”

“Violet, what is going on? Of course, I wouldn’t cheat on my husband!”

“Am I really your child?” I need to know for sure.

“Yes! You hurt me with these questions. I told you before how difficult it was for me to get pregnant. Years of trying and nothing happening…” She sounds so upset and I want to hug her.

“I know you told me.”

“Yes, I did. I did everything in my power. I even prayed to every God and Goddess I know to help me get a beautiful baby. After five years of trying, I finally had my miracle baby.” I hold the urge to roll my eyes. She likes to exaggerate.

“Okay Mom, calm down. I didn’t want to upset you, okay? I will call you soon.” We say our goodbyes and I hang up.

I am still looking outside when something in me clicks. It is a long stretch, but lately, everything in my life is peculiar. I decide to call my mother back.

“Well, well, my lovely daughter wants to accuse me of cheating again?” she asks bitterly.

“No, it was just something you said. Which Gods did you pray to?” It is silent on the other side of the line.

“Mom?”

“I am thinking, it was a long time ago.” I gently try to push her in my direction. “Did you maybe pray to the Goddess Selene, the moon goddess?”

“Oh Yes, I did!” she remembers. “It was a full moon and I was so sad. I prayed to her and I swear that I heard a voice say yes. Crazy right?” I am silent, thinking about it.

“Funny, I never thought of it again. Was that what you wanted to know? Why are you asking these questions?”

I shake my head. “Yes, thank you. That’s helpful. Have a great day! Love you.” I hang up the phone.

Selene is the goddess of the moon. The goddess werewolves adore. The creator of the werewolves and apparently my creator too. I look at my arm and see goosebumps arise.

There is a possibility that I am not just human, but a human created by the moon goddess. I need to tell Igétas about this.

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