Blood Burden

« Prologue »

Nothing mattered. 

She sat in the mud, watching the wild river try to grab at her bare feet. She was tempted to slide a little closer, just within the grasp of the icy rapids, and then she would be gone forever. Just like everyone wanted. No explanations, no pain, no tears. 

It wasn't like she would feel the freezing grip of death. Her skin was already pale, almost translucent, from the pouring rain that continued to drive into her bones; but the cold went much farther than that. She was numb inside. She was cold everywhere, from the beat of her heart to the tips of her fingers. There was no feeling, she had done enough of that over the years.

She didn't know exactly how long it was since she had lost the will to live but she made no effort to do otherwise. It was as if the joy of life had just stood up one day and walked away, leaving behind a broken doll with glass bones and torn skin. She couldn't even bear to lay her eyes upon her own skin. 

She was an abomination. Cursed, as they said. She was born with white marks that laced her collarbone and delicately descended upon her right shoulder. Her mother thought of it as lace in its intricate beauty, but others had much worse to say of it. No one has ever seen such a thing and for what they couldn't understand, they disgraced. Rejected. Persecuted. 

They didn't really know what the marks meant and neither did she. Wolves of wiser years did not dare attempt to understand it because of their reputations and she was left with more questions than answers. They had to mean something but she stopped tracing them with her fingers long ago. She learned to hide the marks in her skin. 

However, that was only one of the many things she learned. Her pack was generous enough to remind her every waking moment that she was different. An outcast. They taught her that she would never really belong anywhere because of her mark. She would always be the lowest ranking member in the pack, even worse than an Omega. She could not show her face in public nor was she allowed to speak to anyone. 

Maybe it was the forced silence that taught her not to scream. Or maybe her silence screamed so much louder, her own soul shattered with its force but only then would she be the audience. Perhaps that was why she felt like shards of glass were jammed beneath her skin, crushing her every breath. It wasn't like she asked to be born with the mark of the moon; as she decided to call it for the pale complexion it held against her skin. That, and only the Moon Goddess could leave such a burden for her to bear.

For how long she must live this cursed life, she didn't know, but she longed for a place to belong more than anything. If it was within the abyss of death, then so be it. She was at the end of her ropes and she didn't know how much longer she could hold on. Nor could she decide if she even wanted to hold on. 

It was as if the numbness was a poison and it spread through her very being. Immobilizing, killing, breaking. Every movement, every thought, every breath... she felt nothing. Her wolf had gone quiet, their bond silent for what felt like ages. They hardly spoke because there was nothing to say. Maybe there had been a time she had cried to her wolf but now she couldn't even muster tears. 

Was this what it felt like to be broken? 

A soft rumble of thunder stirred her eyes from the white water and she slowly blinked. Dark thoughts were all too consuming but it wasn't like she had anywhere else to place her mind. She just couldn't find the silver lining, it all seemed to have cracked and fallen. Like a lose brick in the foundation of an old house, it came tumbling down one-by-one until the last brick waited to end it all. When would that be? She couldn't tell. 

She couldn't feel the goosebumps that raced along her skin but she watched them until her eyes stopped on the slithering trail of blood. In a world of grey, the vibrant color of her blood held her interest as it left different wounds on her body. Perhaps she had bled one too many times from the pack disgracing her. Surely the darkened patches of her skin were of peculiar interest. 

Even her blood was different. It held no scent, as she had been told. But, that was exactly her saving grace because she could hide from her pack from time-to-time. She could have at least a few hours of refuge before someone followed her footprints. Sometimes she was lucky because, just like now, the heavy rain would wash away her trail and she had until the storm passed. 

Day after day, she lived in a nightmare. A repeating cycle that slashed through her, like a hurricane tearing apart foundations and leaving ruins in its wake. She waited for the day it would finally be over. She hoped the sun would shine so bright it would blind her. Maybe it would be today, tomorrow, or another day. She didn't know.

But then again, nothing really mattered.

Right? 

♦     ♦     ♦     ♦     ♦    ♦ 

Welcome to this emotional rollercoaster, please fasten your seatbelts and keep your hearts and knives inside at all times. We're going for a ride, folks. 

There is plenty more where this came from! Real, dark, gritty emotion. I've always been told I'm gifted in playing with emotions and I plan on it as I write this book. 

Are you ready?