The Painters Savior

chapter 18

Okay so im going back to felicita’s pov. Ive been having writers block an im still alittle blocked from creative thinking….?

So yeah sorry for not updating and stuff, so yea enjoyyyyyyyyyy!!!!

                Felicita’s p.o.v.

                My vision was getting better. I could see faces and shapes. They all looked visible, but in a way the one might need glasses for. I think my memory to most things is being blocked. Once I see a face that I remember I would slowly start to creep around only to have a wall being smacked back into my face. I only remembered the war between the hunters and werewolves. I knew there were werewolves, I knew the hunters stole my brothers, Thomas and Brendon, and I also knew that chase is dead. But what I can never forget is how he died. I knew I loved him. I still felt it. I just didn’t really know why, other than the fact that I was his mate. Every single detail is imprinted, playing over and over, on the back of my eyelids.

                There was like a brick wall blocking all my memories. I tried and tried to push but got no process and only ended up having it squish me further into my head. I was still loopy but not as much. I wouldn’t laugh in my head but I still wasn’t okay. I was depressed and broken. I never talked or paid attention to the weird people constantly surrounding me. I was guessing they were the pack’s doctors. The ones that survived anyways.

                Did they survive?

                I can’t even remember.

                There was this one time I felt like my brothers were there. I knew they were there. I was certain. But then a few seconds I was mentally slapped and it wasn’t them.  I wished it was though.

                That happened over and over again and I was starting to get a headache from all this bumping my head into that damn wall.

                “Luna?”

                I have realized that was me a while back. I was an alpha’s mate so a Luna was a female alpha. I wish they would stop calling me that, reminds me to much of chase. But then again, everything does. I look away from the white wall and trail my eyes up to the woman. I study her face. I know her. I look at every detail on her face and I know. It’s the lady from the night I tried t- SLAM.

                And just like that I’m staring at a strange foreign face. Every curve and detail of her face. So new to me.  I look my gaze into hers in a way saying, yes?

                She sighs and sits down beside me on a stool. “We know the drug is out of your system. You should be getting better. It’s been a month Luna. We need you back.”

                What she says hits me like a ton of bricks. A month? Chase has been dead for a month? Did they have a funeral? Was anyone there to say goodbye? A million other questions run through my head. Then it starts. My dry sobs. I’m making all the noises. Gasping weirdly even, but the tears never come. They never do anymore. I’ve cried it all out. No matter how much of drugs they put into me, I will never actually cry tears.

                My heart clenches as always and I just wait till my drunken state ends.

                Its like I’m there fully but the depression has sunk me into another hole. I don’t want to be better. I can’t without my brothers and my chase. Life isn’t worth living.