Never ownED myself

Explanation

Our reactions are tainted by shadows we cast,
Shaped by emotion and wounds from the past.
MJ1

Annie walked through the labyrinths of cold halls carved from stone and earth. Her footsteps was the only sound reminding her that she wasn't dreaming. Darkness trailed behind her like a shadow, but it wasn't the kind that lived in caves. It lived in her memory.

Leah's cries still echoed in her mind, not fading with distance but sharpening with guilt. Leah's complaints killed Annie from the inside. Echoing Annie's sorrow. Her love for her siblings had always run deep, deeper than blood. And when she learned that her mother had erased her from their memories, that she had been ripped like a page on a book, something in her had broken beyond repair. Tom had only revived that feeling adding a layer of deceit. Leah's pain mirrored hers. Both girls carried hearts shattered in different ways, but the grief shared was still grief, raw and relentless.

Finding her father was her best option. Her only hope. And so was Leah's desire. But Tom was weaponizing it.

"He doesn't see me as his equal," Leah said, again and again, like a mantra too painful to silence.

"Don't worry, Leah," she replied softly. "At least he lost that stupid smile." She hoped it would be enough to ease Leah's pain, if only for a moment.

A faint whiff of pine reached them. It was sharp and clean. Leah's senses, synced with Annie's, had begun to heighten again. The wolf inside stirred, alert and restless. Annie followed the scent without question. She no longer needed words to move.

"Why did you stop me?" Annie asked suddenly, her voice raw. "I should have smashed his face to the ground. He deserved it."

Leah didn't answer right away. Her anger was dissolving, replaced by something more fragile and complicated.
"Because," she said finally, "I can't live in a world where he isn't."

That truth silenced Annie. Her wolf's whimper was nearly inaudible. But it was there.

Annie could pretend all she wanted, but Leah's anger, her grief, her guilt, they were but mirrors. The ache in her chest wasn't just empathy; it was a shared wound.

"Yet he deserved to suffer," Annie added. And she meant it.

He had used her family, her most vulnerable place, as a weapon. And it worked. He had broken her trust, and perhaps even more.

Yet the cold night air offered a brief reprieve. The moon glinted through the trees, clouds parting just enough to let silver light spill over the forest. Annie breathed in deep. The scent of pine grounded her. And when her body began to shift, her wolf emerging beneath skin and bone, it happened faster than ever. Smoother. As if the pain had unlocked something.

Leah ran, wild, breathless, half-blind with emotion. Roots caught at her feet, tree branches scraped her arms, but she didn't stop. She didn't want to stop. She wanted to run until the pain burned out or burned her away.

Leah, babe. You can run all you want, but the past won't die. Our inner wounds will only fester. Besides there is nothing to run towards. Annie's voice was filled with conviction.

Leah's legs gave out beneath her. Whether from exhaustion, sorrow, or the weight of everything Annie had said, she didn't know. Her knees struck the earth hard, a root jamming into the bone and sending a sharp pain slicing through her. She crumpled to the ground, breath catching in her throat, a moan escaping before she could stop it. The forest swallowed the sound. No one was there to hear.

Leah was gone. Where to? Annie wasn't sure. Having a shared body didn't meant that she understood what was happening. What she knew was this: she was alone.