"Guess who?" a voice rang in my ear.

And even though my eye's were closed, I knew it would be my long straight brown hair'd, blue eye'd, some-what close friend, Renee Malivert. "George clooney?" I asked opening one eye.

"Ha-ha. But no. I have far less wrinkles. None actually." She chirped and pursed her lips.

I fluttered my eye's open and rubbed them as I leaned up into a slouch. "My apologies. What are you doing in here anyways. You know if Kol catches you in here he'll be pissed." I shooed her off my bed, but she only stood at the end of it watching me with judgy eyes.

I half smiled at her. "Yeah well, you can give him a good one, two... in the living room. Get out before he catches you. Go." I got up and shoved her out of the door.

I pressed my forehead against the cool wood of the now closed door and sighed. "Happy 16th birthday Katerina." I told myself. And turned and looked at the clock, 7:33am. Three minutes past when I should have been up. I sigh and turn around to get ready for school.

I run my morning routine through my head as I go along. Shower, get dressed, run downstairs and make my way in and around the kitchen, serving the pack breakfast. Once they're all finished, I'll need to clean up after them too. All before the clock hits 8:30am.

In 20 minutes, I'm brushing the dull red hair and ready rush outta my bedroom. I'm a bit behind in time.

I run down the stairs in a black T-shirt and blue jeans. My navy blue pull-over sweater was hanging over my arm as I did, my shoes screeching against the newly polished floor of the pack house. I made sure to do that last night whilst they were asleep.

I reach the kitchen, shove my sweater into a far corner of the counter and began grabbing food out of the fridge.

In 15 minutes I am frying bacon, eggs, and cooking up some pancakes. Quickly, I grab some large serving plates from the cuboards, tossed them on the kitchen counter, and poured each pan into a separate serving bowl. There. I click the stove top burners off one by one. It was normal morning routine, I was used to it.

I grab some glasses from the cupboard, place them on the counter. I take out a few cartons of juice from the fridge, apple and orange and leave them on the counter too.

Lastly, I grabbed the utensils needed and stuck them by the plates.

I look over my work, I wasn't forgetting anything. Breakfast was ready for my pack.

And slowly the pack comes into the kitchen, filling their plates and glasses. Some head toward the dining room table, others sit at the isle in the middle of the kitchen.

I took my steps back, waiting for them to finish, picking at my nails with my hands at my sides. They never took long to eat.

When they all got up to leave, I quietly cleared the table, wiped it up the counter and started with the dishes.