I am a werewolf. I know - but it's true.

I grew up in a small town that was frequently beset by bandits and criminals. My father was a man of justice, though, and taught me that if I can do good, I ought to. When I was but a teenager, the bandits came and demanded their tribute from the townsfolk. The leader was a former army sergeant who only answered to "Legend."

I remember that it was raining that night. I remember that the streets and bodegas bristled with farmers and their goodly wives, shopping for their sundries and groceries. And I remember that I had simply had enough.

Legend had pulled aside my favorite Tamale baker, Rosa, and demanded money from her. Rosa's small brother, Guillermo, clutched his teddy bear in fear. I do not remember turning into my werewolf form, but I remember the bone-shaking howl that frightened everyone - even me.

I killed Legends men without much trouble. I had lifted Legend off the ground by his neck and the fool leveled his gun at me. I recall howling once more, then I leaned in close. "Are those bullets silver?" I asked.

"No." Legend said. He recoiled from the stench my breath with was rich with blood and death.

"Then you cannot hope to stop me." I said, and tore his head from his body. I dropped his lifeless carcass and looked around. Guillermo's teddy bear lay in the mud. I picked it up and walked into the bodega. Guillermo and Rosa cowered behind the steamers in terror. "It's over - you can come out!" I said. "See?" I asked. I held up the muddy teddy bear.

Rosa screamed in horror and Guillermo cried harder than I have ever heard in my life. Their father, Juan Carlos, burst out of the back room with a shotgun and fired at me. It could not hurt me, but I did not want to hurt them - I had loved them since I was a child.

I ran and never looked back.

I was a monster.

I am a monster.