Mommy, Please Believe Me Once

I was born a liar. That was the label my mother, Luna Elena, gave me.

In the Dark Moon Pack, every pup is born with a Lunar Mark on their wrist. The Goddess meant it to be sacred. It was our law.

When you speak the truth, the mark glows emerald green. When you lie, it flares crimson.

Red means liar.

My twin sister Maya's mark was always green. She once slashed Mommy's ceremonial dress with a blade and blamed the pack hounds. Her wrist stayed soft and green.

But my mark went crimson when I said I was cold.

"Mommy, I'm telling the truth," I used to beg. "Please believe me."

Elena would crouch down and look me in the eye.

"The Goddess's mark is absolute, Selena," she would say. "Your own heart betrays you."

She never touched me. She just looked at my wrist with disgust.

I didn't know why my body worked against me. No matter how hard I tried to be honest, my heart would race when I was scared.

And every time my pulse spiked, the mark turned red.

In Elena's eyes, I was a fraud. I lied when I said I was hungry. I lied when I said I loved her. I lied when I cried.

My punishment was the severance.

As Luna, Elena could cut the mind-link between us. That bond was the living thread tying a mother to her pup. For most wolves, losing it was unbearable.

It was like being dropped into a silent, cold void with no warmth and no pack.

For me, it became ordinary.

After enough years, I stopped fighting back. I started to believe her. Maybe I really was broken. Maybe I was just born wrong.

-

The night of the Blood Moon Ceremony, the pain hit me out of nowhere.

It felt like a blade twisting inside my chest. I collapsed onto the stone floor. My vision blurred and my lungs locked up.

I clawed at the rug. I could feel my heart struggling.

"Mommy." I could barely push the word out. "Mommy, something's wrong. My chest is tearing. Help me."

My Lunar Mark blazed crimson and pulsed with every frantic beat of my failing heart.

Elena appeared in the doorway. She looked regal in her Luna robes, every inch the pack's honored mother. She didn't look at my face. She didn't look at the blood at the corner of my mouth. She only looked at my wrist.

It was burning red.

"The Ceremony starts in ten minutes," she said. Her voice was flat. "And you're still playing games."

"I'm not—"

I choked. Dark blood ran from my lip to the floor.

"I'm not faking. I can't breathe—"

Elena stepped over my outstretched hand. She didn't even flinch.

"The deeper the red, the bigger the lie." She looked down at me without bending. "Your own blood is confessing your guilt, Selena."

She walked to the door and grabbed the handle.

"Stay here. When I come back, that mark had better be green."

Thud. The door shut and the bolt slid home.

I lay on the floor and listened to her heels click away down the hall.

The mark is red, I thought, even as my vision dimmed. It's always red. I must be lying. I must be making this up.

I'm sorry, Mommy. I'll learn to be honest.

In the next life, I'll get it right.

-

The pain got worse. I dug my fingers into the floor and left gouges in the wood.

The door handle turned.

She came back.

She is the pack's Lead Healer. She knows.

"Help me. Please. Mommy."

"You're still on the floor."

Elena stood in the doorway. The Ceremony was starting without her and Maya was waiting. She had come back only to check.

"Mommy." I reached toward her. My arm shook badly. "It feels like something tore inside. Please."

She looked at my wrist. Red. Flashing hard and fast.

She crossed the room, grabbed my jaw, and squeezed.

"Selena. How long are you going to keep this up?"

"I'm not—"

"You've always been this way." She let go and straightened. "Stay here and think about what you've done."

Alpha Richard appeared in the hall and cleared his throat.

"Elena. Should we maybe leave her something to eat?"

Elena wiped her hands together like she'd touched something dirty.

"She raided the pack store last month and hoarded food. It's in her cabinet. She won't starve."

She pointed at Richard.

"Lock the door. She comes out when that mark turns green."

Richard hesitated.

"Don't." Her voice stopped him cold. "Look at Maya. Green mark, always green. That is what an honest pup looks like. Selena is broken at the root. We discipline her now or we lose her entirely."

The cabinet was empty. It had always been empty.

Maya stole the food from the pack store, ate it all, then stood beside me with her mark glowing and said, "It wasn't me."

Elena believed her.

When I said "I didn't take it either," my mark went red. Elena severed the mind-link and locked me in for a week. The silence in my head, where her bond used to be, swallowed me whole. It was worse than any locked door.

I watched Mommy turn toward the hall.

Maya leaned around the door frame and sneered at me, slow and deliberate.

"Bye, Selena. We're going to the Blood Moon Ceremony. It's the most sacred night for the Pack, and you're not invited."

Her mark pulsed green.

Thud. The door shut and the lock fell.

The house went silent. It was just me and whatever was tearing apart inside my chest.

It hurts so much. But the mark is red, so I must be lying.

I'm not in pain. I'm not. I'm not.

I told myself that over and over until I half-believed it. I don't know how long I lay there.

When the pain went quiet and vast instead of sharp, I understood what that meant.

I used what was left of my strength to crawl to the desk. There was a rule: a red mark meant a written submission, one thousand words. "I am a liar. I am a liar. I am a liar." Fill every line.

If I finish it, maybe she'll forgive me. Maybe she'll take me to the Healer.

My hands shook too hard to hold the pen. I opened the leather-bound Penance Journal. Every page inside was a record of my supposed sins, line after line in my own handwriting.

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. I won't lie again."

This time, I wanted to write something true. My vision was almost gone. I wrote through tears.

"Mommy, I really love you."

"I really am in pain. Why won't you believe me?"

"Mommy. Please. Just believe me once."

I finished the last word.

The pain stopped. Something I had never felt before took its place — weightless, quiet, and clean.

I rose and looked down. I saw myself slumped over the desk with one arm hanging at my side, still.

My Lunar Mark still burned crimson on my wrist.

I died.

I never learned to be honest enough. I'm sorry, Mommy.