The Three Kings

Prologue

Trigger Warning: sexual assault/abuse,

I remember the flames. Bright orange with yellow. Engulfing the house and the trees and grass and the little garden on the side of the house. I remember being absolutely mesmerized by the sight. I couldn't understand how something so destructive could be so beautiful.

I remember the screaming. There was lots and lots of screaming coming from inside the house, and from outside of it. But I couldn't properly hear the screaming, it was as if I was underwater: everything muffled, falling onto dull ears.

I remember attempting to walk up to the flames. I remember wanting to touch them. The colors and heat drew me in, but someone grabbed me. They yanked me to their chest, their arms wrapped tightly around my waist, as they lifted me up.

I remember how he smelled. He had such a sweet smell. Like candy or chocolate. I remember that I loved his smell. It brought me comfort and solace. But as time went on, I remember his smell started to make me uncomfortable and scared. But as a young pup, I loved his scent.

I remember him scolding me. I couldn't hear it. Again, it felt as though I was underwater. I remember being in his arms as he tried to get my attention away from the house, but no matter what, my eyes refused to leave the burning house that was starting to crumpled.

I remember that the screaming had stopped at that point. It was quiet. The only sound was the crackling of the flames.

I didn't remember what happened next.

I did remember that I moved in with the man that smelled of chocolate.

I remember that for the first couple years of me being in his care, he treated me like his own pup. He loved me. Cared for me. Held me. Fed me. Dressed me. Bathed me. He did everything that my parents did. Tucked me in. Kissed me goodnight. Read me bedtime stories.

I remember that as I got older, he started making me sleep in his room with him.

I remember that he would whisper how pretty I was becoming. How I was growing into an amazing young women. How beautiful my body was developing. I remember ignoring his words and snuggling into him. I remember forgetting how uncomfortable his words were making me.

I remember that, even as I got older, he still insisted on bathing me. I remember his hands on my body, I remember his heated stare, I remember that area would always poke up and make its presences know. I remember that, when he bathed me, he'd only wear a pair of tight boxer shorts.

I remember that it started off slowly. Small, lingering touches on my bum or my breasts when he'd be around me. I remember him asking me to start changing in front of him. I remember feeling as though I couldn't say no to him.

I remember that those small touches slowly turned into rough, hard touches my most intimate of areas. Groping, slapping, spanking. I remember that whatever he touched, he was mean and harsh about it.

I remember the night that those touches escalated into something more. I remember the way it felt during. I remember the blood. I remember the way I felt afterwards.

I remember that it lasted for years. I remember the day it ended. I remember when he found his mate. I remember hating her. I remember wishing that she'd go away. I remember, that despite everything, I thought he loved me.

I remember when she found out what he was doing to me. I remember that she took me away. I remember her putting me in her car and she drove us away—far away.

I remember when she dropped me off at Alpha John's pack. I remember that she told him what was happening. I remember that he took me in with open arms. I remember that I hated him. I remember that I hated her. I remember hating them for taking me away from the only home I've ever know. I remember hating them for taking me away from him.

But then, I remember hating him. I remember hating him for what he'd done to me. I remember hating him for what he'd put me through. I remember getting help. I remember realizing that he didn't love me.

But, most of all, I remember that I recovered from him.

Though, the lasting damage he did would always haunt me.

__________

Hey guys, I'm back again. Like what? I know I'm surprised too. Anyways, this is a proper prologue for this story. I am sorry if this triggered anyone. Believe, going back and re-reading this actually kinda triggered me. So that was fun. Other than that, I've been writing a lot the past couple of days, so expect an update like this weekend or something. I would also like to thank everyone that gave advice on therapy. I really fucking appreciate it!! Still scared, but now I'm kinda looking forward to it!

-Rae