Mine

16 - Pain

EVA'S POV

Pain. Depression. Anger. That's all I felt. It's all I could feel.

Flinching at the screams of my human mate, I rolled over in my prison cell, my knees ached in agony. It was dark. Just dark and damp. The room caved in on me, the silver bars only made it worse, they trapped me like arms constricting around your waist. My senses hurt and stung with the stench of blood and dirt. Nathan's cell smelt worse; his had rats, they crawled along his body as soon as his limp soul was throw back into the muddy hay left as bedding. I had sawdust as bedding, the only thing that kept me warm as my torn clothes made me shiver as the drought blew down from upstairs. Upstairs. Torture.

My body hurt. Like hell. It even hurt to blink. Every muscle in my body kept screaming at me, but I was already deaf. My bones screeched in agony, yet I was already healed. That's what my father did to me; he beat my body until limp, until one beat away from death. After that he would throw me back here, waiting for my werewolf to heal me, just so he could do it all over again. Whilst I healed he got bored, in that time he took Nathan from me, he beat his human body. The only problem was Nathan had no time to heal. Nathan was slowly parting from life, he was straying into the unknown, into death.

Menacing eyes were the only dimly lit thing in the room, they watched, waited. Waiting for me to heal. Their evil glint of masochist life hung in the rim of the pupil. Eyes as dark as this room. Yet they were still bright. Scared the everything from me. Rogue. Only two stayed. Two pairs of eyes. Just watching. Waiting. Feeling the joy of my pain, the thrill of the tears I tried to fight back and the happiness of my grief. Just one hour and those eyes will be full of satisfaction; my father let them watch me being beaten.

Shuffling slowly as possible (my body was still numb with pain), I attempted sitting up, leaning my bare back against the sharp edges of rock wall. It was jagged and had blood splats where I painted a wolf with my blood. Where I was told to cut myself with the blade from my fathers hand and paint the walls with my wolf. I had no choice. I did it to earn Nathan a teaspoon of water. He would've died if I didn't. I would never forgive myself. Never. I would only kill myself by tying my ragged clothes around my neck and squeezing till I fell limp alongside my soul mate. The only one I live for.

Letting out a raspy cough, I moved my knee and hissed slightly, a large gash was reopened at my movement. Blood trickled down my shin and trailed down to the ground, making a small puddle where I laid my head when I needed to rest. The only soft area of my prison cell. Filled with blood now, my blood. Caressing it, I put my pinky finger to it but so slow you wouldn't notice, if I moved suddenly I'll just self harm without realising. Biting back a small cry, I pulled my finger away from my would and let one silent tear of emotion fall down onto my wound. I almost whimpered as I saw my reflection in the tiny year drop.

Frail, washed out hair tumbled past my shoulders and stuck out like a haybail. Dull skin hid away, covered with mud and a few dried blood stains. Lifeless eyes were hardly noticeable against the bags beneath them, showing my lack of sleep. Once flushed cheeks were deflated and grey. Dry lips quivered in the small droughts that ran over my skin. I looked horrible. I looked away from my reflection and focussed on something other than the unbearable pain I was feeling. I focussed on Emmy. Jake. Max. Becca. Nicole. Kellie. Xander. Cole. Mostly Nathan. The ones who gave me the most simple forms of hope. That one emotion that changes everything.

Dropping, my eyes begged for sleep, they agreed with my body that rest was the key. I didn't want to sleep, not now, not until knew how Nathan was doing. My mind was clear from thoughts now, almost every Mothers wish, but right now I disagree and believe thoughts are the only things keeping ourselves away from true pain. A clear mind had the ability to expose every physical pain, emotion and reality. A thoughtful mind will always be more peaceful, with dreams and hopes, beliefs, places you visit when you're alone. Gripping onto those thoughts that help you progress. A mind with dreams. Not a mind with nothing. I know that to have thoughts, to be filled with a stressed mind, can be easier to fix than your true pain. Earlier to fix than reality. Easier to make right again.