Make Me Yours

Saxa

The blinding pain is the first thing to register as my eyes begin to open. It hits me in crashing waves, something that swallows every other sensation. My vision is a foggy smear of color and shadows. My ears ring so loudly it’s like a fire alarm is screaming from inside my skull. Every inch of me aches—no, it burns—with a pain so sharp it feels like my bones have been snapped at every point then forced back into place a hundred different ways.

And no, I’m not just being dramatic.

What the hell is happening to me?

My breath catches as the view finally begins to come into focus.

Chains, thick metal cuffs clamped tight around my wrists. My arms ache from being suspended for—god knows how long. I can’t even tell if it’s day or night. There’s no light peaking in from anywhere, which means no windows. 

Great.

There’s just a dim flickering torchlight licking at dirt-covered stone.

Fuck.

Am I locked in a cage? Or would it be considered a dungeon?

Wait, why the hell am I arguing with myself about what to call this place?”

Focus, Saxa. 

Panic clutches my chest as I yank against the restraints. 

No give.

The chains are bolted to the wall behind me, thick enough to hold back a bear. My wrists are already bruised and bloodied, and every movement makes the cuffs dig deeper into my skin.

I’m shackled, in a cage, underground.

I force myself to take a few ragged breaths, trying to keep the rising wave of hysteria from crashing over me. There’s dirt under my feet, not concrete. 

Damp, cold soil packed beneath my toes. I scan the chamber, throat tight.

Tunnels, at least four of them. Hollowed-out holes carved into the eastern walls. They’re wide—easily big enough for someone to crawl through. Some disappear into shadows so deep that I can’t see the end of it.

Maybe they lead out, maybe I could escape through one. Maybe—

I stop myself, it doesn’t matter if they go somewhere. I’m not getting to them unless I get out of the chains first. And that’s not going to be easy.

There’s a large iron door across the room. Heavy, bolted. A thin crack of light spills in from underneath it, faint but real. That could be a way out too, or just another trap.

My pulse spikes again. The silence is thick—too thick. Not peaceful, but watchful. Like the darkness itself is holding its breath.

Then I hear it, the screams.

Far off at first.

Sharp and ragged, like someone being torn apart. My heart jumps into my throat. The sounds grow louder, closer. Until it echoes off the walls and vibrates through my bones. It’s not just someone crying out—it’s someone dying.

The chains rattle as I instinctively pull back, cowering into the wall. My breath comes fast and shallow, my eyes dart across the chamber.

And then I see them.

Eyes. 

The same eyes that have been haunting me since I was a little girl.

Red-rimmed, glowing faintly from the far corner. Watching me. Studying me. They don’t blink, they never do. They stay, watching, waiting.

The rest of the thing is hidden in shadow, but the shape is all wrong. Too tall, too angular. Wrong proportions. It’s not human, and every instinct in my body is screaming at me to run—but I can’t. I can’t even move.

It doesn’t speak, it doesn’t need to.

‘You’re next,’ its eyes seem to promise.

And I believe it.

I start thrashing against the chains, my pain long forgotten, fueled by nothing but pure terror. The metal bites hard into my skin, and I barely register the warm trickle of blood running down my forearms.

Get out.

Get out.

GET OUT.

Something drags behind it, scraping against the floor.

This is it.

I’m going to die down here, I’m going to die before anyone even realizes that I’m gone.

Gran doesn’t even know that I left the house. She thinks I’m in bed, curled up under the covers, sleeping off a late night with friends.

She’ll come up the stairs in the morning to find my bed made and room empty, and she’ll think I ran…

Tears prick at the corner of my eyes, I don’t want to die like this. Not in the dark, not without saying goodbye.

My head whips towards the sound of metal crashing against the stone, squinting against a sudden burst of light. The door I saw before was pried off the hinges, laying crumped against the floor, a bright light pours in. For a second, I think help has come. Rescue, a guard, something.

But the red-eyed thing screeches—an ear splitting, rage filled howl—and launches a body across the room towards the door.

A man.

Limp, bloody, lifeless.

The figure in the doorway doesn’t flinch.

But then I see it.

A wolf.

Or—something like one. 

Definitely something massive. The only thing I can make out are the eyes, they gleam with something more than animal instinct—something like intelligence. Purpose.

It lowers its head and growls, deep and guttural, without another moment of hesitation the red-eyed creature bolts towards one of the tunnels, vanishing into the dark.

The wolf steps into the room, snarling, steam rising off its body in the cold night air.

I can’t breathe.

The wolf turns its head, and for the briefest second—just before the world starts tilting and the darkness swallows me whole—our eyes meet, and I swear to god…

It looks like it knows me.