All That Is You

Chapter 1

I opened my eyes to darkness. The same walls that caged me in stared back at me, claw marks littering its surfaces. The scent of blood, sweat, and urine filled the air, a reminder that I was not here willingly. A reminder that I was taken.

I was too tired to move from my contorted sleeping position, but I forced myself up until I was sitting upright. My muscles ached and protested with every little movement. The otherwise quiet cell was pierced by the clanking of the chains clamped around my ankles, a promise that he would never let me go.

My fingers brushed across my ribs, trying to assess the damage. My eyes lingered on the blood between my thighs and the hand prints that marred my wrists. My head pulsed as I forced myself to forget the memories of what he did, what they did. My usually fast healing process was slowed by my malnutrition. A guard would bring me food every three days, barely enough to be considered filling, but enough to keep me alive.

I don't know how long I've been here. The tally marks on the wall that I used to make when I first came here gradually came to a stop as I could no longer tell when the days would begin and end. Once his beatings came in the way of my sleep schedule, the days began to blur and the only things I was able to focus on were my aching limbs and the blood smeared across my skin.

I could no longer recall the faces and the memories I used to cling to. Back when I used to hope. Back when I was foolish enough to believe there was any good left in this world to be spared on a broken girl who longed for home. A home I can no longer remember.

He says I deserve it. He says I deserve the bruised skin and broken ribs. After all, nothing could ever make up for that fact that I took away the one person who could ever love him. But what he seems to forget is that I loved him too. I loved him before he became a monster and I love him even as his knuckles kiss my skin, a blooming rose that shows the only emotion he is able to feel for me. Hatred.

I curled up into myself, reaching out to my only companion. But even she has abandoned me. My wolf had long retreated into my mind, refusing to acknowledge that we were imprisoned by the man we called our father and holding out on the hope that our mate would come save us.

But I no longer believed in men, all they had ever done was take. I had no hope left. I didn't need saving anyway. There was nothing left to be saved. I was an empty shell, a canvas of colors I never asked for. I was ruined.