Identical Alpha Twins and Silver Shackles

Chapter 7

Doctor Witstock looked me full in the face but his eyes were filled with such an intense sadness that I immediately broke the connection. I fixed my gaze instead on the pleated edge of the hospital blanket, I admired the beautiful stitching and the sweet lilac colour in place of the normal hospital blue.
“I’m going to need to be really honest with you, ………… I don’t know what we are going to
do, my concern is that by now your body may have developed a dependency on the wolfsbane and if we strip it away too quickly or completely you could go into withdrawal, cleaning your blood could quite literally cause more problems that it would solve. Then there
is those ……………things…… on your arms, waist and legs, I’m worried about exposing such large areas of injured flesh, we run the risk of infections, bleeding out or your body not being able to deal with so much and you go into shock”
His statement was met with echoing silence. I couldn’t help but feel disappointed and angry with myself for allowing in enough hope that I was left feeling disappointed. Hope really is evil, it sneaks in without your permission and builds you up only for it to vanish in a second and leave you crushed, feeling hopeless and alone and scared. In those moments you react
without intent or planning, you let your emotions control your head and what happens is guttural, instinctive, an emotional release that in my case was crying. Crying for the miserable life I’d led, crying for every hit, insult, neglectful action and all the torture. I cried for all the things taken from me before I knew I was supposed to have them, I cried for a future I wasn’t going to get to experience, a happy family, children, being loved and I cried for a childhood of being unwanted and unloved and never knowing or being able to understand why. I cried till my breath caught in my throat and my chest ached from the exertion. I cried longer and harder than I have ever allowed myself to cry before and then I
cried some more. The twins rubbed circles onto my back in an attempt to comfort me as they both stared
dumbfounded at their dad. It was clear from the looks on their faces that no matter how bad a situation had been previously they had relied on their dad being able to sort it for them and they were having a real struggle in controlling the emotional responses their dads supposed shortcoming was eliciting in them. They both looked like they wanted to speak, ask questions, beg? But neither seemed capable of forming a coherent thought so they were just making odd little noises and sounds while their expressions suggested that they had recently received a shovel to the face.
Over the next hour the brothers, still sat either side of me, googled and researched every site available to them, apparently searching for something, anything their dad might have missed or maybe didn’t know about, they seemed to be taking their dad’s inability to help rather personally and had thrown themselves into finding a solution instead. It was an odd feeling as I watched them, they had taken such an interest in helping me and I couldn’t work out why. I know I went to them, well Rogan, for help and as pack Alphas they are supposed to be there to help but this felt more personal somehow, was it just because they wanted to
offer a solution when their dad couldn’t or was it because all this had happened under their dad’s and then their noses and they somehow felt responsible?
Regardless of the reasons behind it, it felt incredible to me to have not just one person but multiple people who seemed to actually care about what happened to me, they actually wanted to help me. Watching them pour over their laptops made me want to cry again but
this time happily, this time, for the first time because I was experiencing what it felt like to have people who want the best for you. To have people who wanted me to be in less pain not more.
As I let my thoughts run around my brain I watched the boys as they began to exchange glances with each other. At first these looks were filled with curiosity but they quickly began to flash with other emotions, nerves, fear maybe? I could see the inky blackness of their eyes telling me they were deep in their mind link with each other. Were they discussing that their dad was right, I really was a hopeless case or had they discovered something worse?
The looks they were now exchanging made me concerned and not a little afraid but neither seemed aware that I was watching their interaction. They only broke their ‘conversation’ when Dr Witstock came back into the room with a younger Dr. He noted the looks of fear and confusion on his son's faces and turned his
attention back to me.