Chains of Fate

9

I was sat down in another room, this one slightly more secure than the last. I heard two guards outside and there was a camera overlooking the windows.

My body began to shake as the wolfsbane left my system, I guess the small amount of exercise on my weak body pumped it out faster than expected. This was not good.

The toxins leaving my system would mean my scent was returning and then would begin the awful process of complete submission to another Alpha.

Why did I think this time would be different?

-

About a day had passed until someone opened my door. I didn't have to look up to know there was a pair of angry eyes staring at me.

I didn't care, not anymore. The pain of silver and safety leaving my corpse was all I could think about.

I felt numb yet burned in pain. Dead but breathing. Lonely yet mated.

I heard his approaching footsteps cease as he got near me. He noted my obvious withdrawal. I guess years with a poisoning problem have side effects. Who knew?

He frowned at me. Concerned laced his features as he stared at my pale, sweaty skin. I hoped he would give me a touch of wolfsbane, at least out of pity, so I wouldn't have to do this cold turkey.

The man had come in ready to yell. The brewing tension he manifested when he entered told me I was in trouble. But I guess seeing me broken enough was good enough for him. False concern and pity contorted his angry expression.

Maybe it pleased him to see me in pain.

As he stopped near me my body began to shake more violently, my nerves and blood releasing the drug. I couldn't stand it, at least back home I could see the source of pain. Find a way to fix it. But this, this was a different kind of torture. One that haunts me after my supposed "liberation."

I felt sick. The empty pit of my stomach lurching, constantly sending waves of pain through my hollow body. I wanted it to stop. The coldness. The sweats. The shaking. The anxiety. I wanted it all to stop.

I curl myself up into a ball. Shielding myself from the eyes that watched me. I let tears stream down my face. I don't cry in front of my kidnapper, I don't let them see my pain. But this was too much, for the first time in a while I let the tears fall. Drowning in my self-pity.

I felt saliva building in my mouth, my stomach heaving. I couldn't make it to the bathroom, I couldn't stand. The contents of my empty stomach splatter on the floor. My body shaking from exhaustion, pain, and poison.

My companion started to walk closer to me. I did my best to stop him. But as my bones were too weak to move, all I was capable of doing was whimpering softly. It was pathetic.

I heard him stop as I warned him off. I was too vulnerable, too weak to fight back. All I had was misery, pain, and a pile of sick.

Eventually, the pain became too much. My eyelids were heavy as sweat trickled down my forehead. Body heaving as it tried to throw up something that wasn't there.

The last thing I feel as I slip into nothing is a hand rubbing my back and arms lifting me up.

Aidan

I was mad, furious that I had taken this girl in and she just threw it away. Replacing the room I provided her with for broken glass. The food with drugs. The safety for isolation.

I knew I was being unfair. This wolf has probably not known any different. Stuck in a cycle of self-destruction, with the immediate instinct to run. I was just so torn between rage and understanding.

All I tried to do was help her, try to make her feel safer.

As king I should've noticed sooner, should've helped earlier, made more of an effort to comfort her.

Should've. Should've. Should've.

But didn't.

Perhaps I'm more angry at myself. Projecting my feelings onto the already stained canvas.

But I guess better late than never. As a leader, I should help this girl, take her burden. With a new sense of clarity, I headed to the escapee's room.

I have never seen someone in withdrawal before, amongst wolfs it is uncommon to have such an extreme attachment to drugs. Usually, the human dies and the wolf takes over. Diminishing the need for numbing.

But what I didn't imagine seeing was such a small woman convulsing on the floor of my house.

I felt panic, fear and anxiety. Suddenly I had been thrown into a situation in which I have no experience or knowledge.

I felt helpless. Pathetic. Guilty.

I froze. I didn't have the mental capacity to call for help or to help her for that matter. I was as still as one of those haunted silver statues. I've never felt this numbed pressure before, it is unlike me. Everything was just in slow motion, sounds were muted and drawn out, and just like that. The peace came crashing down.

My brain started functioning again. The retching of the girl came into focus. As the mentions in my head started processing again, I rushed forward to help her. But her small strained whimper held me back. It hurt to be shunned by her.

The idea that she was afraid of me made Abelard whimper too. Usually, power comes with fear. I enjoy it. Seeing people shy away out of fear. But also respect, people in need reaching out to me because they trust me.

But this girl showed me the former, and it did sting. I only want people to fear me if they have something to fear. But her, she didn't have to fear me.

And yet she does. As she passes out from what I assume is pain. I gently lift her from the position she is in. Carrying her to the bathroom as I mind-link the doctor.