𝐓 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐔 𝐑 𝐄 𝐃. / ww ff.

𝗌𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗂𝖿𝗂𝖼𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝖾. / edited.

— 𝐉𝐚𝐧𝐞.

Am I paranoid to be counting the days that Tobias hasn't hit me? It's become sort of a crutch, a habit, a lifeline of data to cling on to, recording the days where he hasn't raised his fist or sneered or spat or—.

I'm paranoid.

It has been months since the last recorded incident of abuse, and my healing is progressing quite nicely. At last, I have escaped the restraints of my bed and urged the wolf to allow me to finally feed and wash myself. He acquiesced, begrudgingly. I took what I could get.

Moving was still sore, a pang of telltale phantom pain shooting through my spine with every limp, but at least my wrist worked well enough to pick up a spoon. Every cloud.

Even if I am allowed to nourish myself, Tobias insisted that I stay by his side, in his study, in the living quarters, in the dining quarters, in the bedroom, so that he can 'protect me'. At least the isolation means I do not need to see the other pack mates, his cohorts, my abusers. Every cloud.

Tobias, you are such a funny, little man. Every day you keep me locked by your side in fear of me getting hurt again, you fail to see the pain you inflict all by yourself.

.
.

Currently sat at my very own dressing table in our shared room, I gazed upon the carcass in front of me, reflected in the mirror's glass. My skin looked and felt clean, the bruises and blood was certainly all gone, but underneath I was rotting. I was rotting so deep, rotting to the core. Small nicks and scars were the only clue of such deep-boned rot that actually remained on my nourished skin.

How does one clean out their own rot, I wonder?

Pondering listlessly, Tobias managed to catch my eye from his position on the bed. He looked lazy enough, but I knew under the calm facade that every muscle was poised for action. He raised an eyebrow when brown eyes met blue.

He was doing that a lot lately. Watching me. Watching me watch myself. He and I, we don't need a lot of words said out loud to communicate.

My eyebrow inclined just slightly as his body stiffened like a wire electrocuted, eyes glazed, having a conversation deep in his mind that I was not privy to. Mind-link, huh?

My mental question wasn't answered as all the wolf proceeded to do was sniff the air just slightly, trance-like, and that was all it took for him to shoot upwards, fully electrified.

"Rogues," He uttered, words almost falling beneath his breath in its escape to leave his vocal chords, and his gaze intensified on my form.

By now, I had swivelled around to face him, spine twinging in protest.

Poor man, he was probably battling with his innermost thoughts, and it didn't take a genius to guess the debate. Either to protect his helpless mate or fight for his pack as leader.

Tobias twitched, acting as if he had been mind-linked again, and sucked in a sharp breath.

"Luke!"

Luke? Oh, that name does ring a bell. If memory of a time long forgotten serves well, then he is Tobias' younger brother. The man never really hurt me, and we did not cross paths often. He seemed different to his pack mates.

By the pained look of grief circling in Tobias' eyes, Luke seemed to be hurt. How does grief feel Tobias? Does it ache?

Thoughts tumbled around in my head, and even as a decision in my own mind still hadn't been made, my body moved as if being controlled by invisible strings. Standing up, I silently slumped over to Tobias.