Abandoned

EMILY - RECOLLECTIONS

WHACK! The sound of the whip whistles through the small, concrete room I am locked in. The material of the whip tears my flesh apart while the silver contained within ensures the wound will last long and be slow to heal. It’ll also leave scars which I already have plenty of but for the most part can’t see as they are scattered across my back.

WHACK! Refusing to cry, I instead count the strikes against me, making rhymes to go with the numbers. I’ve been doing this game for so long that it’s more of a song now as I ran out of new rhymes years ago.

WHACK! One! One strike to make me want to run,

WHACK! Two! Two strikes to make the game less fun,

WHACK! Three! Three strikes, time to prepare for more,

WHACK! Four! Four strikes making it hurt to my core,

WHACK! Five! Five strikes making me wish I weren’t alive,

WHACK! Six! Six strikes, I don’t think I will survive…

What comes next, I’ll never know as the darkness takes over, allowing me to escape the pain. There have been numerous beatings and countless whippings over the years, leaving me broken, scarred and damaged. I’m not entirely sure how long I’ve been in this small cell but I do have one small window located high on the wall showing me the passing seasons. With nothing to do between beatings I stare out that window, only seeing a small sliver of sky and the tops of trees. I have spent hours seeing nothing but listening to the laughs and conversations of other pack members going about their lives.

I haven’t always been in this cell but my life hasn’t been a lullaby either. My Mom was assaulted by a rogue while working in the pack gardens which resulted in her becoming pregnant with me. She made the choice to keep me and raise me despite my start and she ensured I had a wonderful childhood. We would bake together often and shared an interest in reading, a solitary pursuit I’ve always enjoyed. Or, used to enjoy.

Everything was fine until the year I was seven. The rogue that attacked her so many years before returned, sneaking onto our pack lands with ease. He broke into our home and despite being shocked at seeing me there, it didn’t deter him for long. He grabbed me by the arm and physically threw me into my bedroom, closing the door behind him. He never said a word to me and it wasn’t until later that I figured out that this monster was my biological father.

I hesitated about going out to my mom when I heard him hit her. The sound is unmistakable as is the cry of pain she made involuntarily. The more grunts of exertion he made and cries of agony my mother made soon had me skittering under my bed to hide. I knew he was hurting her but I also knew there was nothing I could do about it.

The sounds went on for what felt like hours before everything suddenly became silent aside from my frantic breathing. I could hear someone moving around in the rest of the house but no one came to my door so I stayed hiding until I heard the click of the back door. I slowly crawled out from under my bed and tip toed my way to my door. There are no sounds in the house beyond the normal ones like the refrigerator humming and the fan in my room clicking as it rotates.

Clicking the door open as gently and quietly as possible, I can tell immediately that something is wrong. I hadn’t had my first shift yet so didn’t have the extra abilities that would have come with it but the smell of blood is undeniable. I slowly shuffled toward the living room and kitchen area, deathly afraid of what I was going to find.

As I turned the hallway corner I cried out in horror, seeing my mother’s bloody and broken body laying on the floor. I raced to her side with eyes unable to focus through the tears and knelt down beside her. Her eyes were staring straight ahead, unfocussed and unmoving. I was unable to tell where she was hurt because she appeared to be hurt everywhere. I was unaware that I was making a keening sound which soon had neighbours and warriors racing to our house. I don’t remember who came in, what was said or what happened next because to this day I don’t know for sure what happened next.

That very night I was moved into my cell, later being told that it was for the protection of the pack. Unable to lie or even knowing I should, I told my Alpha everything that I saw and heard that night. He quickly put two and two together, also assuming it was the same rogue as last time which made him my biological father. So to protect the pack I was in a cell to hopefully prevent the rogue from coming back after me. He wasn’t worried for the pack and I knew that, even then. He now had an orphan on his hands who potentially presented trouble simply by existing. So he took care of me and he has for ten winters now.

He beats and whips me with regularity; my guess is when he is under increased stress or fighting with his pack. My beatings started immediately once I was in the cell, even being as young as I was at the time. I’ve never fully understood why I became the target of his rage and cruelty and he never bothered to explain it. One day I lived in a cute cabin with my mom and the next day I was alone in the world. I lost my mom and my home all in one night, leaving me living this nightmare.

When I was younger, I was simply kept locked in the cell but once I reached puberty the Alpha began cuffing my left leg via silver chain to the wall. I have enough length to reach each corner of my cell and the silver bars that form the front wall. There is a bucket I’m to use for waste but depending on the guard, I am sometimes allowed to use the small bathroom that serves the dungeon. It has running water including a simple shower that only runs cold but is the one thing keeping me sane. Laying on the mattress is better than lying on the cold floor, but not by much. It is filthy, stained by substances I can only imagine but it doesn’t seep my body heat out the way the stone floor does. I have no pillow and no blanket so in the winter the only thing that keeps me from freezing to death is the underground location of the dungeon – it’s cold down here but the temperature is enough to prevent me from dying.

Ten winters and ten summers I have been hidden in this cell for crimes I don’t understand. I have been punished with silver for so long that any hope I had of having a she-wolf present itself and save my life have long ago faded. The silver keeps me weak and cuts into my flesh which is never given the chance to heal. The silver also prevents me from shifting so to this day I have never met my she-wolf, never felt her companionship or the joy of running in her form. Not only has my freedom been denied to me for so long but so has my very nature and by extension, my she-wolf’s freedom and nature.