Lazarus

Chapter 7

I yelped as they shoved me into the small chamber area, causing my knee to smash onto the rocky floor. Looking up I noticed the room was almost pitch black, the walls before me barely visible. They didn't say a word as the door slammed shut, hardly causing an echo to race through the silence. I frowned as I tried finding one of the walls, leaning against it once I could feel it. My mind began going back to my childhood punishments, awakening the panic within as I hugged my knees to my chest. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing, wishing I had my medication right about now.

With my medicine at least the panic attacks weren't terrible, I would be able to push them off, act as if they weren't happening. Without them, I'm helpless at the feet of my anxiety, despite the exercises I had done with my therapist. My attempts to fight off the growing emotional storm in my broken mind were useless, it'll only continue to build. However, for now, I'm able to somewhat control it, telling myself to breathe in and out. Time passed slowly, the panic slowly slithering away as my brain realized I was okay. Even so, I still couldn't help but anticipate a punishment, my mind completely convinced I had done something out of order.

"You're not disobeying your parents, you're only disobeying your enemy," I told myself, attempting to bring logic into the forefront of my thoughts.

Letting go of my legs, I stretched them out, grimacing as the cramps worked themselves out. I then leaned back against the cold stone wall, thinking of my childhood and what Margaret and Alexandra had said last week. A part of me knew they were right in saying I was brainwashed, convinced my parents were punishing me for my own good but the other part agreed with my parents. They fed me, clothed me, raised me, I felt as though I owed them. They brought me into this world, they wouldn't have a child they didn't love, would they? They had to love me or else they wouldn't have spent all these years caring for me. I was their own flesh and blood, how could they possibly loathe me to the point of thinking of me as some tool? Those thoughts continued raging war in my head as I bounced back and forth between them, trying to find out which one I truly believe. I let out a groan, running my hands through my hair as I tried pushing them from my mind, giving myself a headache.

"This is some bullshit," I grumbled to myself as I stared into the nothingness, growing irritated with my own thoughts.

I'm not sure how much more time passed before I could hear someone in front of the door, the sound of keys echoing in the empty place. I internally groaned as the panic began settling in again, my brain trying to tell me I'll be punished for stepping out of place. I clenched my jaw as I attempted to remain calm, pulling on my expressionless mask. I squinted my eyes as the light poured into the darkness, causing my eyesight to blur for a few seconds before adjusting. I stared ahead at Lazarus, keeping my emotionless facade.

"Here to torture me?" I asked, my words coming out as shards of ice meant to pierce through him.

If only I were that lucky.

"What? No, I'm not into torturing anyone," he answered as if the thought of possibly hurting someone disgusted him.

I'll have to admit, his response caught me a bit off guard. Someone like Lazarus would be all over torturing their prisoners, that's how alphas normally are. They punish anyone who stepped out of line, even holding eye contact for too long was considered a challenge to some. I snorted at his response and looked away, feeling completely drained almost as if I had run a few miles. He walked towards me and knelt down, his expression only puzzling me further. He almost seemed concerned, keyword almost. His eyes studied me carefully, trying to read me as if I were an open book. When he finally realized he wouldn't figure out my secrets that easily he narrowed his eyes before standing once more.

"Come, I'll take you to the infirmary," he voiced, surprising me.

I frowned, "Why would I need the infirmary?"

"I forgot we don't have mirrors in here, you like ill."

Blinking the drowsiness from my eyes I looked up at him, my mind wouldn't process what he had just said. I was only in here for maybe a day or so, how would I look ill that quick? He raised an eyebrow at me, patiently waiting for me to stand.

"How do I look ill?" I finally asked, using the wall as support to help me stand.

I hadn't realized my legs fell asleep, making it difficult to stand for a few moments as the blood rushed through them. I stared at his hand as if it were poison, not wanting to take his offered assistance. He sighed, shaking his head in response as he began walking from the cell.

"Let's go," he mumbled. "I don't have all day."

"Gods, let my legs wake up again first unless you want to carry me."

"That can be arranged."

"Don't touch me."

He smirked as I finally felt somewhat normal, flashing him an irritated glare I stalked past him like a spoiled brat. I know I'm being unreasonable, but his entire being annoys every cell of my body, he's like an aggravating pest that doesn't leave you alone. For a second you think you're free from it and then the next second it returns, driving you closer to insanity. The entire walk to the main house was smothered in tense silence, worsening my foul mood.

"I don't get why I'm getting attitude from you, I didn't even do anything," he suddenly voiced, causing me to stop.

Turning on my heel, I glared at him, "You took me from my pack and family. Does that not help you see why I dislike you?"

"It has been a week."

"So? What, you expect me to be over it? Gods, you're dumber than you look."

His eyes darkened a bit, but he didn't grab me as I expected, instead he regarded me with a vexed stare. He studies me for another moment before finally speaking.

"I'm sorry."

A/N: This some stressful copying and pasting from my Inkitt account to this one lmfao