Standing before her, tall and foreboding, was her supposed doctor...
His eyes briefly widened behind his long curtain of hair. Muscles bulged under his white coat, smoothly tracing every crevice of his body, slightly wavering in the ventilation wind...
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The moon was the only light the beings below could rely on.
It shone with grace and cold beauty. With its imperfect freckles, it silently watched life squirm, thrive, and die. The moon did not impede destiny.
Under its shivering glory lay a young woman in the grass. Her skin was pale and sickly- goosebumps trailing down her skin like a gravel road. Scars of no time and date sat unwanted and neglected- their skin flushed red in anger. Bite marks littered her arms. Their punctured marks sat in a small puddle of unsightly purple- bruises that scream and hiss under the faintest of touches. Every wound lay in forgetful disarray... no care of love sent to any.
It was cold... colder than she could comfortably handle. The moonlight draped her in a cold blanket with no security.
Her bright cyan eyes, splotched with inner yellow Heterochromia, fluttered open and gazed around in fright. Her surroundings were unfamiliar and foreboding.
The woman lay amidst graves. She attempted to move her arms- but found them tied behind her back with two metal cuffs.
One cuff was around her wrists, with the other around her forearm.
She squirmed on the cold, dark grass enough to push herself to her knees. The woman's throat ached when it felt a pull.
Gazing down- she noticed a silver metal collar attached to her neck. Connected to the middle was a long, undamaged chain- one slightly riddled with rust but left standing unperturbed. It draped across her body and along the ground. Her eyes trailed along it, like a small journey to discovery, until they settled upon its endpoint. The chain was secured to a large stone... a gravestone. Her eyebrows curved up with worry upon this discovery.
However, the facial movement made her wince. She could see her left eye in the reflection of the marble nameplate encased in the stone.
A black eye was welled up in unbridled fury. The lump in her facial flesh slightly covered her eye- obscuring her vision. Blinking left her clenching her molars in discomfort.
Adjusting her posture, the brunette woman sat with her legs crossed. She leaned toward the gravestone plaque.
Calamity Steele.
Her mind swirled in thought before settling on a single sentence. Why choose a cruel name for your child?
She fluttered her eyes shut- but harsh visions were all that welcomed her.
Blood.
She raked her claws through the flesh of a mewling trot. The wails of pleading mercy were lost in translation- left to the cold ears of death.
Blood for the Blood Goddess.
It rang through her thoughts like an echo. Every pass of the breeze wavered with the words- cursing her mind in the endless insanity of incomprehensible poems. The simple sentence was her just for existence.
Every life left to waste away at her claws pulled back whatever joy was left to have. Without death- she had no reason to be.
The body beneath her bore a resemblance to her own. While she stood as a fictitious wolf- her brunette fur shivering in the wind- the human woman below was the same brunette with blue eyes.
Blue eyes sank into the grey. Her pupils enlarged until there was no ocean left to see.
She snapped her eyes open. Reality crashed into her like a salty wave from the ocean.
It played to her not like a memory but like reality.
She felt as if what she saw was her now- as if everything wasn't something that happened long ago. Calamity knew it happened long ago... but she didn't know truly how bygone.
Gazing back at the tombstone- she saw the year of her birth, 1994, but not the year of her supposed death.
Was this tombstone even hers? She shook her head- her long brunette mohawk shaking like the wet fur of a dog. Calamity never recalled having a mohawk.
She gasped as a memory came roaring in. The woman was a werewolf- she knew it now and forever.
"Gleyma..." She whispered under her breath.
It was the name of her wolf- and she knew it well. Calamity knew not of its meaning, but names need no meaning when they are for a beloved.
The silence mocked her with its chortles of high-pitched wind.
She clenched her teeth. Her voice ached with coarseness- throat whining like a rocky avalanche of pain- before she managed to cough, "Gl-Gleyma..."
Silence basked in her discomfort.
Her wolf, a beloved companion she met during puberty, spoke no word. It left her in an unfamiliar silence that poked and prodded at her for being alone and unloved. The abandonment left her eyes welling with tears.
They cascaded down her cheeks like a tall mountain does to a river, "Gley.... Gleyma... Please," She coarsely whispered, "Ta-Talk to me..."
Her desperate pleas wavered into the night unbothered. She truly, in every sense, was alone.
Calamity's mind was an echoing chamber- her words bouncing back and searing into her lobe with wounds of distress. A decade she spent with another was thrown to the mercy of war, where it took and destroyed it with smiles upon its face. She leaned forward, her face toward her lap, as more tears lapped at her lids. Calamity pulled at the restraints behind her back as desperate sobs shook her body. No matter how much she cried and begged- no one came to her rescue.
Gleyma was gone... a feat not possible, but done.
"Holy... shit." A masculine voice broke her from her misery.
She snapped her head up before locking eyes with a pair of emerald ones. They were enlarged with shock as his lips parted.
"How...?" He muttered.
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