Story cover for Reborn by Wolfbeetle282
Reborn
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 3,958
  • WpVote
    Votos 282
  • WpPart
    Partes 72
  • WpHistory
    Hora 2h 27m
  • WpView
    LECTURAS 3,958
  • WpVote
    Votos 282
  • WpPart
    Partes 72
  • WpHistory
    Hora 2h 27m
Concluida, Has publicado may 29, 2017
My name is Sora. I died at age 104. When I went to heaven, I was given a choice- to be related to myself, have the same name as myself and be my daughters daughter. I chose this. I was sent into the world. Into my mansion. It was mine in both lives.  My daughter/ mothers name is Samantha. I had a son in my first life. His name was Jake, and he was now my uncle. Everything was weird.
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Re-posting. The common story is that finding a mate is supposed to make the wolf stronger. For an alpha, finding his mate, blessed by the moon goddess, strengthens the pack. But there can be such darkness hidden in that dynamic. Even those of cruel hearts can seek the power of a mate. And the damage they cause might not ever be healed. ***** Prologue: Drip. Drip. Drip. The rhythm or the water would have been soothing if it hadn't been so cruel. Drip. As it was, it was nothing more than a taunting form of torture. Drip. Ears could hear the soft thudding of raindrops at the end of the hall as a door was pulled open in squeaking protests and then shut with a harsh metallic clang. How the rain made its way into the depths of the cement room, it didn't matter. It was there. Drip. Step. Drip. Step. The footsteps were strong and full of purpose. Though just as unwanted as the drops of water that fell too far out of reach. Unable to quench the dehydrated desperation chained to the wall. Drip. Step. Drip. Step. Only one set of footsteps. There was no question of the destination or purpose that carried them down the hall. Not that it was a surprise. It was always the same. First the pain, then the visit. The cell door opened to darkness. There was no energy to move, not even enough to will eyelids to open. Not that it mattered. The visit never changed. What more could be said? What more could be done? All that mattered was that stale, barely edible food was only given after he was done. Only then, could there be any comfort from hell. ***** WARNING- This story does delve into topics of kidnapping, imprisonment, rape, murder, and violence. Though the scenes are not explicitly detailed, underage readers are discouraged. Also note that I do not own the rights to any photos I have or might post for this story. Just photos I found online, cropped and edited. The story however, is all mine. No copy of content is permitted.
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You're a teenager with the love of dancing. As a child, you competed in community dancing competitions with all your friends. Your mother and father supported your love for dancing all the way. Your father would even dance with you sometimes just to spend time with his little girl! Then, one disastrous night when you were thirteen, you and your parents were driving home from your fifth national competition. You won first place, and everyone in your family was proud of you. It began to rain and visibility was decreasing. A drunken driver wasn't paying attention to where you and your family were going, and the drunken driver crashed head on into the vehicle. Your mother didn't make it. A year later, your father became more alcoholic and abusive. He was very devastated over your mother's death just as you were. He kept telling you it was all your fault that your mother died. It is currently three years after your mother's death, and you're sixteen years old. Your father got another woman, and you have a little step sister now. Your father and step mother finally made the decision to send you to a foster family, and that's where you went.