The Golden Wolf

Forgiveness

question: 

how do you make a monster

stop feeling so monstrous?

You give her something she can hold

in her palms

without crushing.

you give her something sweet

and tell her to keep it.

you wipe the blood from her hands.

you say her name, 

over and over,

like an absolution.

you forgive her. 

you forgive her.

you forgive.

every day for as long as she needs to hear it.

-jackparse

Something is shoved into my mouth. Bread.

I stare straight ahead, unable to acknowledge the person in front of me.

"Please talk to me. I'm sorry for what they've done to you." A young girl's voice speaks.

Part of me wants to respond, but I find I cant. Part of me has stepped away from reality. It wont let me back to the surface. My mind has taken a back seat.

"It's okay if you don't want to talk. We could hear you screaming from upstairs, but they wouldn't let anyone go down and feed you. I finally convinced them." I hear her say.

I want os badly to respond, but all I could do was allow her to put food in my mouth. I know I'm chewing the food, but I have no control over my body anymore.

"Okay. I'm going to leave the food here for you. I hope you're okay." I hear her stand. "My mommy is waiting for me. She feels bad for you too."

I try to fight my way to the surface, to talk to her, but I see a light as a door opens, and cringe away. The light, after so long in complete darkness, is blinding.

The door shut with a bang, and I am settled back in the darkness.

"Thank you." I manage to squeak.

I spend all my time sleeping now. Whenever I wake up, the voices greet me with a chorus of screaming. It's almost more peaceful to be asleep. Almost. Nightmares torment me when I sleep. Sometimes the voices are there too, and I cant tell the difference between being asleep and awake. Sometimes the dreams are worse. Sometimes I replay the night that the organization fell apart, as if I'm living it all again, in perfect detail. The only difference is the color. My dreams have lost all color. I've forgotten them all. They no longer swirl around in the darkness around me, nor color the blood in my dreams.

I see things now as well, although I'm not sure if its when I'm awake or asleep. My parents visit me regularly. They look exactly like they did the last day I ever saw them. My mother's brown hair pulled into a tight bun on top of her head, my mother's short black hair straight and shining in the light that doesn't exist in my new world of darkness. They mile at me, and sometimes talk to me. I never talk back.

Sometimes though, I see them in the form they took after that day. My mother's hair plastered onto her face with dried black blood, her eyes empty and glossed over, my father's body almost unrecognizable, except for the tattoo on his caved in chest. These images make me scream.

Sometimes my foster mother appears, but she doesn't stay for long. She is sweet but distant, just like she always was. Sometimes my old boyfriend appears. I wonder what he is doing now. He doesn't talk to me when he comes, only stares. Although he doesn't speak the words, I can hear them clearly. I don't love you.

Those I killed come to me, and that may be the most haunting of all. They are almost all men, some young, some old, some clad in fancy ornaments, and some dressed as if they were homeless. I remember them all as they appear. They try to touch me, just like they all did back then. They cant though. They just go right through, but I can still feel it, as if the dirty touch burns its way through me. As if they're still touching me, even now, long after they're gone, and long after I've showered all their fingerprints away.

Someone new is here. Different from the others. I don't know him. I recognize every face I've killed, but I don't know this man. He is old, a long beard and hair, all tied in knots. His face is littered in scars and he's missing teeth. That's part of what makes him different. He is only a head. All the other halucinations I've had have been full body, but this stranger floats around me, taunting me.

"Oh, Kaliya." He whispers, appearing next to me.

I jump away from him weakly, my collar halting me abruptly.

"You're pathetic." His voice is angry now. Aggressive. He laughs and disappears suddenly.

The door opens, the light blinding me for a brief second. Something grinds against the floor and taps against my foot. The door closes.

I feel down and find more bread and a bowl of warm, thin liquid. Food. It has been days since the girl had come and fed me.

The liquid is water, I find as I spill it into my mouth and down the sides of my face. Warm water. After all this time down here I would drink boiling water if I had to. The bread is moldy, but that's okay. I know I need to eat. I know I need water. However much I want to die, I know that I need to stand a fighting chance if there is ever a chance for me to escape.

The food is gone too quickly, and leaves me more hungry than before.

My period starts. The cramps kill. I know how I must look now, covered in blood, but I cant really see, so I don't bother caring.

I don't know how long I've been here. It must have been nearly a month.

The small pack has started appearing to me now, but I can't see their faces. I can't see anyone's faces anymore.

The pack just stand there, and if I try to talk to them, they just grin and disappear. I seem to never be without a visitor now, whether it be voices or someone I can actually see. I long to see my parents, but they start showing up less and less. More and more it's Abarron and the others, never more than one at a time.

Suddenly, Abarron bursts through the door, blinding me with the light. "Kallie! Come on!"

I jump up from the ground on wobbly legs. "The collar! I cant get it off!"

In a flash he's next to me, and I hear yelling outside the door, coming closer. Battle sounds. Abarron Bites down on the collar and it shatters in his hands. He grabs my arm and begins sprinting back toward the door, just as Tuwile and other pack members appear in the doorway. I gasp as Abarron and I continue to charge at them.

And then I'm pulled backward by my neck, and everything disappears. The door is closed. The collar still hangs around my neck, now bruising where I ran hard into the end of it. I struggle to breathe for a moment, then burst out into tears. I believed it. I thought he had come to save me. Who am I kidding? He will never come for me. They will never come for me.

I'm on my own here.

It keeps happening, and I believe it every time. Until I stop.

They will never come for me. 

Be patient and tough; someday this pain

will be useful to you.

-Ovid