by Emma Knox
“Please do.” I squirmed and itched the back of my neck. For some reason I was feeling a sensation. Déjà-vu. I didn’t want anything to happen that would humiliate Samson in front of Trevor. It’s not that I wanted to be a proper princess who drank cups of tea and said ‘thank you, sir’, but the reality was I didn’t know Trevor.
He was nice. But so was… that itch in the back of my neck. I scratched it away and avoided the urge to do it again. An unfamiliar smell tiptoed up-to my nostrils and reminded me that Trevor was an unusual scent: cypress. I preferred the woods. I liked to know that Samson was close.
When I checked for him, I saw Samson with his spine elongated and his legs stretched so that he could give them some length. He drew them in…then out…in … then out. His knees never locked fully. His face winced, and the lines in his brow creased tremendously like tidal waves. He eased away the pain in his legs and threw back his neck when he was done with a relieved grunt.
I had forgotten that Trevor was still standing there above me. It didn’t matter. He left me alone as I watched Samson with a glimmer of hope in my eye. And with no trace of anything else to spoil what I felt for this Alpha. Samson was mine. And he wasn’t going anywhere. But the past…the rotten…stinking…hell… of a past.
It came to me that something was setting off a lever in my head. This room. A scent. An itchiness underneath my feet. I went to itch them and removed my shoes: took off my socks; and then buffed my feet whilst inhaling with caution. It was recognizable. I just couldn’t place it with a name and that stalked the back of my boffin.
I massaged each individual toe until my feet were free from any unwelcomed tension. I pulled back on my socks and shoes; and waited for Samson to come back into this room. I could hear parts of what they were saying; although my mind scouted for the cause of light-headedness that started to make itself known to me.
“I promised I’d send you back to your Omega.”
Samson looked over to me at the far corner of the room now staring at the sharp detailed canines of that wolf. I even got up for a brief second and could’ve sworn I heard it scowl. Samson and Trevor were by an oil painting of a lighthouse and a shadowed werewolf who was making his way to the ocean.
“Is he ok?” Trevor asked Samson this whilst he watched me walk closer and closer to his unusual wallpaper. “He seems to like my wolf.”
“That should please you.”
“Well it would, if your Omega didn’t seem so strung out and edgy over there. I was trying to work out why I could smell fear on him.”
“Fear?”
“Either of me? Or this place. I don’t know. I think he needs some rest, Samson.”
“Yeah. I think he does.”
“And so, do you.”
“I’m fine. I’m not the one carrying baby.”
“But judging by those cuts and bruises you’ve been through one hell of an ordeal.”
“And survived. I told you, it was nothing serious.”
“Let me be the appraiser of that.” Trevor lifted both of Samson’s arms and studied them from the back of the hand all the way to the top of the shoulder. Then he flipped it over from the palm and stopped where the elbow curved. “You need to get these seen to. Those rogue wolves took a chunk out of you.”
Samson took back his arms and gave them a shakey-shakey-shakey. “Not from where I’m standing. Hey, how did you know they were rogue wolves?”
“Who’s in charge here, Samson? Who usually goes around starting bullshit to upset the balance of these lands?”
“Right. I guess it pretty much explains itself? But, Trevor. You have to understand where my mind is at. I got this Omega pregnant at the party. I found out where he lived. Learned that he was a member of the Wine family. Noticed that he had some issues. Realized that Flynn was his father. Fought some rogue wolves for the sake of saving him and the baby. And now I’m here, bringing you an Omega that I found and declaring that I want him to be my mate.”
“I couldn’t write a better love story if I tried, except for maybe mine.”
“So, your opinion?”
“Is what I said at the beginning: he sure is pretty. But up close and taking on the scent, he is fearful of something and he needs to personally address that. Because it’s eating away at him inside.”
“Yeah. I sensed that to. But I can’t force my mate to speak to me.”
“Then you’ll have to be content with half a heart.”
“I can’t.”
“Then find the issue.”
I heard parts of their conversation. I was already up from the sofa with my interest disintegrated for Trevor’s wallpaper. I sat back down just as quick again; with my nose that tingled. I flicked the bridge of my nose with my ring finger and then waddled and gave it a dance.
A faint smell came to me: knocked me unconscious for a brief second, but it happened so fast that it was just a fainting that never stuck. But the faintness of that smell hit me again as potently as apple cider vinegar undiluted when drunken.
And with that potency of an odour that I couldn’t place a name, a face flashed before me. My heart started to chatter as teeth would when ice-cold temperatures dropped. I had no heartbeat, instead, I was thrashing upon the floor with manic waves that invisibly caused me to drown. But the thrashing upon the floor and me trying to keep afloat became replaced with the missing link.
I was thrashing so that another fist wouldn’t come down upon my face. In all my craziness, it diverted my attacker. The known Alpha: William, showed his face vividly as I thought harder about the stench. So that’s it. I jumped up when I confirmed that was it! William. Is he here? I frantically edged backwards…to safety…but wait! A picture.
A fireplace. I must’ve blocked it out when I came in. But it’s there now and in plain sight. And I saw that picture framed on top of it with a black and gold outline. I got dizzy. I levelled out my arms, stabilizing myself as I tried to think of why I wouldn’t allow myself to identify the two in the picture. My eyes were starting to water. The stench of him came back.
The room. It was a flood to me now. I couldn’t do this! I cannot. I should call for Samson. But he and Trevor were deep in their talk. My head was circulating the whole room until I found myself glaring at that picture and letting out one heck of a scream, “Arrghhhhhh!”
I was gone. I was shocked. I was alone. I needed a friend as I ran for it out the manor and headed for the woods. I tired myself out and became even dizzier when swirling down Trevor’s stairwell. “I’ve got to get out of here!” I drearily pegged it down the path; my hands accidently brushed against Trevor’s blue trimmed flowers. My eyes burned with a soreness of pure devastation.
William had set foot in that manor. He had been there. There was no denying the scent that was brainwashed and imprinted into my cognizance. How could I not flee from what betrayed me? Hurt me? Obscured and mashed me into sand. And then blew me away with the wind. It was unreal. To think that he was nowhere in sight, but still had such a damaging effect in his ability to make me squeal for mercy.
I ran shaking, my lip quivering as I felt cold. So icy, and unable to dissolve.
The direction I ran was back from the way we came. The woods were not far from there. It would be a maze of a nuisance. The naked trees with their pointy branches and the entire bark that slanted upon each other gelled well with the cover that I needed. I worried for the little guy in my stomach. It couldn’t be good, me being in this state. I kept checking behind me. Wondering if I was being tailed. Every broken stick or splash in a pool of water was enough for me to jump and growl if it didn’t come from my movements.
I growled weakly after a while: scaring plenty of birds who would flee from me and tweet away for their safety. And smaller critters coyly peeked and then rushed on by before I did them some unfortunate damage. The trees seemed to grow darker the further in I travelled. I knew these woods, and the path I took was an easy enough one through.
I crossed over a log that had fall
en and was this sort of bridge. I hopped down a couple of stones; nearly scraping my arm as I slipped on the last one. I got up; and found myself with a dilemma. My nose doing the sniffing and wondering what way pleased me more. Left would mean less trees and more dried leaves, and right would be a logged bridge above some rainwater on the bottom. What lay after it I didn’t know, but I wanted to remain untraceable.
I took the left because I thought I saw somebody across the logged-bridge. My own self-madness, perhaps? I had to check if I was mad. William had sustained it. Made me bathe and drink that excrement. I paced it across those leaves. A whole load of crunching and my panicked and rapid shortages of breath was all I heard.
I went back to transforming again whenever I heard a random noise. A part of my head would shift into my alter: the Siberian tiger. It came to a point where I stopped to regain my mind more than my breath. Because there was no other presence but myself at this point. I was truly alone. I spun anti-clockwise with my eyes above me and both hands on my stomach.
“I have to protect you.” I looked for a route. “I can’t let the same mistake happen twice.” But that was not my fault, was it? I teared inside and almost dropped to my knees. “There was a point in time where you could’ve had a brother or sister.” I spoke to my stomach. “And then, through the brutality of my partner, and the weakness of myself, I lost it.”
I cried out in pain. “My poor baby. I didn’t do enough. It left me! He promised me that it would be ok. After the abuse he had dished to me.” I saw it. The moment when I was screaming out that something wasn’t right. It was me grinding with my toes curling. The contractions that were karate-chopping me with kicks and punches. And then an almighty tug that felt like a vacuum had come and swopped up all the prizes for itself.
I couldn’t breathe. I yelled for William, but he felt I was imagining the pain. That it would do me no good to act this way.
“It’s all in your mind, Arden.”
“William. Something is wrong. I can feel it. The baby. I need to see a doctor.”
“And what good would that do?”
“But…” I cried-out, and leaned myself all the way into a tennis ball whilst standing, and then dropped to my knees still cupping the pain. Then staggered to the bed with slow steps that nearly took me to the floor. I collapsed onto the sheets: weak and feeble.
William was more concerned with…my back. He rolled me over forcibly with his hand and ripped off my shirt with a couple of rapid tears. I had no will to fight him off. I tried to erase the immense pain that I was feeling. I could feel him surveying the wounds that he had inflicted upon me. He sat next to me and said nothing.
This was what kept him from taking me to the doctor. I couldn’t speak anymore. By then I was in-between conscious and unconscious. I was ready to pass-out. But he said nothing. And his cruelty was that obvious. And his voice blended with his concealed fear for getting caught. “We need to keep our story straight.”
I snivel as I try to lift my head from the sheets. But I collapsed back down, and I felt a hand violently yank my head up and tell me again, “Arden, we can’t have talk of those marks on your back. If the doctors ask you about that, you’re going to have to come up with a convincing story that will keep them satisfied.”
I replied very weakly, “I just want to make sure that the baby is ok. Please, something is terribly wrong, William.”
“So, no word of your back, if they ask?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll take you.”
I had passed tissue and clot – material. My cramps were severe as the days went on. I lost plenty of blood. My back was giving in, and all the time, in the back of my head, I was hoping that this meant nothing at all. But the doctors weren’t so sure and rushed me to the emergency room pronto.
I wasn’t going into labour. But I was having cardiac arrest. They put me under a strong anaesthetic and I drifted to sleep with William’s bullying face and his words. “If they ask, do not tell.“ I truly was giving up. I wanted to die. When I woke, it was the groggiest I had ever felt. Tubes stuck in and out of my body, and the beeps of my heart upon a machine.
No sign of William. He would keep his distance for now. I fell back asleep. And woke up a few hours later more able to face the music when the doctor dropped the news blandly, “You lost the baby. I’m sorry.”
That was a shot to the heart. My leg being amputated. A hammer to the skull. I fell back onto the pillow and wept. And I didn’t stop until William came into the room.
He had flowers in his hands: handpicked. He made an effort and placed them in an empty vase by the bed. They were a bunch of white, purple, and yellow lilies. They smelt great. He scrubbed himself clean. Looked moderately handsome, for once. And genuinely seemed to squeeze my hand for support of the situation.
I couldn’t care either way. The pain of losing the baby, and then the fear of William’s personality time-warped me into a regrettable sob. I toughened up though, looked him in the eye and blamed him without saying. I let him know that the cause of death was his fault. And if he was going to beat me, then so be it. I conveyed all this with just my eyes and he knew it.
Which is why he left me alone in that room to sober up. But I never did. William hovered around when the questions came from the doctors on the outside of the room; “I noticed you have some marks on your back, Arden.”
The doctor seemed disappointingly awkward, I pressed on. “Could it have any link to the loss of the baby?” I spotted William biting onto his ring finger.
“That would depend if you were suffering any abuse. I noticed a few bruises as well. Around your arm and stomach. Is there anything that you would like to discuss? It doesn’t have to be with me. But there are people that you could talk to in confidence, Arden. If you wished that to be the case.”
How could I tell the doctor about the time when William threw a bucket of ice over my head? How his fist-to-my-stomach-punch was the starting point of the cramps. And every day I was living in fear of what he would come up with next when it came to humiliating me. And then showing my face with a broken smile and nobody realized.
I had my pride. As tiny and insignificant as it could be. And I would hold onto it. That leech out there wouldn’t win this one. I was fuming. Broken. But livid.
That could never be the case. I wouldn’t be alive to see the day. “No. It’s just natural accidents.”
The doctor didn’t believe me. But what could he do if I wouldn’t say. William disappeared. And I repeated the words, so the doctor would leave me be. He was itching for me to tell him the truth. “Doc, I can assure that none of these wounds and cuts are from abuse.”
“Right.” He left it there. Walked out the room. And I was left with an empty stomach. The cruelty of that…the sad cruelty of that.
I would never let the same thing happen to you. I’m back to the present. My baby kicking and telling me that it’s ready to fight with me to. I could lose myself here. I find myself shedding some tears again.
To be reminded of that foul fiend. To have him close to me even if he wasn’t in the flesh was horrifying. But I would never be free of that moment because the doctor’s words that let me know that my baby was gone would be tatted upon my heart forever.
But William. When I got away from him it was with a promise that I would never look back. I worked up every ounce of balls that I owned and bashed them together until I placed his head in-between them like a wrecking ball. I had enough of him. He made me sick. Made me ill. Gave me the flu. Posed a diabetic problem. And was an Alpha who I needed to escape from. Not run. But escape!
I got away because even William was done. It was a mutual affair. The loss of the baby was the last straw and neither of us could cope. His abuse just couldn’t cut it anymore. It was mediocre. He had committed the murder of our child. What more could he do after that to me? He was powerless in destroying me because that had already been done. He was at fault. He had won. And I couldn’t go on like this.
I got worked up again now when Samson came into my mind. Samson was a part of that clan. He must’ve known William. And Trevor…they must all be bloody in on this, I thought. Oh God… The sky starts to spin erratically. They can’t be good people. It’s impossible for them to be that. I have to protect the baby.
I ran ahead, but everything started to paint black. My palm fell upon the bark of a tree and was the only thing that held me up. I tried to keep myself standing, but it was all too much for me. The wave of Samson, William, the miscarriage, and having to protect my baby forced me to bump into the bark of the tree; I collapsed, and fainted. I wished to sleep and never get up again! I hoped to not get up again.
Friends did not exist. What I said was evidence of why you truly never knew somebody. As I laid in my comatose state, I fought the ability to open my eyes. I was coming through. But I didn’t want to. I felt the strength of my lens return to my optic nerve. My senses regained movement. I was wiggling my nose soon enough. My Omega gland spiked into life. The skin cells being replaced with new ones. I was back to life. But I didn’t hear the fresh breeze. Or the woods that I could never falter when I was there with the trees that whispered and the light rain that was pattering before I fainted.
I was no longer outdoors. I allowed my back to shimmy on the surface of the bedsheet I was underneath. I was tucked-in: pretty well. My head had sunken into the pillow. They made sure, whoever put me to bed, that I wouldn’t be going anywhere.
I shimmied again, and then heard a creaking of a chair. As if somebody had just gotten up and was making their way to the side of my bed. I acutely listened for them to get closer. My nose and smell came back to me — I sniffed weakly, to hide that I was awake and alert. I sniffed again… it was still recovering, but yes, I was transported back to the outdoors.
