Oracle Of The Moon

Prologue

Lucy's POV-

Everything in my body hurt. My wolf cried out in pain as I tried to move. I was tired; tired of fighting... Tired of living. I wasn't loved, I wasn't nourished, I was barely living. I was ready to die. It would be better.

Everything felt pointless. My whole existence was pointless. Had I been born just to be a punching bag? That was what it seemed like... If that was the case, and it truly seemed to be, then screw that! Death would be a better choice.

My choice.

My wolf, a true extension of me; my more nature driven side, my more animalistic side, whimpered in my mind. That part of me didn't want to give up, but even that side of me was tired of this life. I was sick of being abused and used all the time. I knew that I couldn't continue this type of life, and there seemed to be no end in sight.

So... I had to create my own end. I had to force everything to stop. My whole life had been chosen for me as I had no choices given to me. It was time that I made my own decisions. It was time to take my life into my own hands. After all, I was officially an adult.... Happy eighteenth birthday to me!

It took quite a long time for my wolf to heal me enough to move. Even with my wolf side's ability to heal most cuts in mere seconds, I had been laying on the floor for what seemed like days unable to move due to the severity of the injuries that I had been left with. Afterall, it was hard to heal and rejuvenate myself when I had very little nutrients and energy.

Finally, after far too long and too much agony to keep track of each passing moment, I was able to muster up enough strength to get up despite the glaring pain throughout every inch of myself. I wanted to yell and scream due to the pain, but I knew there was no use in using up even more of my limited energy on pointless things like screaming. Instead, I hobbled about the cell-like room trying to figure out my next move.

I was literally kept in the basement like an animal... or a dead body. As I looked around the place, I realized how truly sad and bare the room that I had spent most of my existence in was. There wasn't much to the dingy place. It was a double concrete damp and dark basement complete with a small toilet and sink sitting in the corner with several different pipes lining the walls and ceiling for plumbing, I assumed. It had been completely sound proofed ages ago so no one could hear my screams and/or yelling. The only door to the large and cold basement was locked from the outside using several different types of locks then separated by another cold and dark cellar-looking room with more locks and then a set of stairs and then yet another door with another lock. They really didn't want me to get out apparently...

There were a few blankets strewn across the cold pavement that I had accumulated over the years to make life the tiniest bit more comfortable for myself. I didn't have much other than the blankets and very few clothing items that I had either stolen or had been given to me in pity. Other than that, I had no other personal effects in the room. Nothing else in the place that I had grown up was mine... Unless you counted my dried blood stains that decorated the room vividly. Everything else was either trash, useless crap that had gotten tossed into the room with the other useless crap (me), or things that Flemming wanted had wanted to keep hidden from other visiting packs.

My eyes went to the pile of useless broken extension cords that had been thrown into the room many years before. It hadn't seemed to be anything big when the pile had been set down to rot in the basement right along with me. Why they hadn't just thrown the cords out instead of saving them, I had no idea. However, right then, I thanked my lucky stars that the pack that I was kept a prisoner in were also apparently hoarders.

I wanted to die, and I wanted to die at the hands of myself. I'd give no one else the pleasure of killing me. I wouldn't give Flemming the pleasure of hurting me anymore. I was taking my life into my own hands.