I Wish Someone Cared

Out of Time

Alexandra's POV

Is it possible to count the minutes as they go by? Almost as if there's a clock going off in my brain. Wait I shouldn't say clock, more like a timer. And every minute it ticks closer to when I will change. Every second I'm closer to changing into a full wolf. Usually this is an event that family's dream about and throughout out all of the age fifteen you're taught how to cope with the pain of the change. My education on the event was next to nothing and even though it opened up a window of new opportunities for me, I had been dreading this moment since about two years when I realized it was coming.

No way to ignore it now. I could only now prepare myself for the pain I was about to endure and I'd have to endure isolated in the dark, damp cellar. And worst of all I'd have to be silent unless I wanted to be killed. I couldn't imagine any pain worse than what I'd already been through here. But that's what Clarissa had told me but she had never been cut by a silver blade either. She also promised to teach me about the change and about my mate when I got older but that promise was left unfinished. She promised to help me escape with her and her mate but she couldn't keep up that end of the bargain either. The worst part of all was that she looked at me in the cage we once shared and told me that she'd come back for me... but she never did. And she never will.

I stopped trusting people's promises after her. I should've stopped after the abandonment of my pack but my forgiving heart let someone else in, and it hurt when they abruptly left and left me here to die. Especially when I had endured so much pain and horror to protect her secret. I like to sometimes attempt to convince myself that maybe she died but I know deep down that once she escaped our Hell, she was too afraid to come back for me and our hell became my Hell.

Almost all the guys were all out on some huge hunt which they did every April 7 on my birthday. Most of the time I'd sing myself to sleep. Repeating the lyrics of the lullaby or Happy Birthday song to myself until I was so sick of hearing them that I wanted to vomit but that tradition died when Clarissa left. Now I kept a secret pack of matches, which silent sat under my pillow, and struck it on my birthday. Then I'd sing and blow it out. It reminded me off when I was back at my own home despite the fact that the light danced on a match instead of a candle and I held it in my fingertips instead of on the top of a cake. But I remember admiring the fire on the tops of candles and for some reason lighting the match somehow gave me a sense of home.

I wonder if at home my parents were sitting at a table crying over me and thinking about me like I think about them or if they had dismissed me in their mind as dead.

11:59 my mind reminds me and I glance down at the little pocket watch that sits close to my pillow. In a desperate attempt to distract myself I grab the box of matches pulling out the seventh one and quickly lighting it. With the familiar sight of the dancing flame my stress level declines a little bit. I'd pray if I believed in angles or God and I used to but living in Hell for seven years tends to alter your beliefs.

Then the first tidal wave of pain hits and I drop the match and watch as it blows itself out while it falls to the dirty floor. The pain is more unexpected then anything but it's different than anything I've ever felt before because this pain comes from inside of me unlike every other pain I've endured which comes from the outside.

Then the next wave hits again but this one seems endless. There's no way to describe what it feels like to have 206 of your bones pop, shift, break, or bend in new positions. There's no way to describe the wave of nausea that attacked my mind as it feels as if someone else was squeezing into my head and accessing all my thoughts and memories which flashed before my eyes along with the same pictures that I'd seen days before.

I would pass out if it wasn't for the pain that was attacking the rest of me. I won't lie, I can't hold in a scream and I bury my head in my pillow and screech in agony but after that I bit my lip and attempt to ride it out. Yet still it is next to impossible to keep from not screaming or crying out in agony and I hate doing it all alone. I want someone here. Someone who I knew loved me and would try to protect me or whisper sweet nothing in my ear in hopes to distract me but instead I'm fully focused on the pain. The whole thing seems never ending and I worry that maybe someone will come down to check on me. And how do I change back afterward?