Chapter 2

I woke up to the sound of the pig pen door creaking open, and the sunlight that streamed in, momentarily blinded me. A maid stood in the entrance, her lips set in a thin line and her eyes filled with disgust. "Get out," she spat. "You're needed in the house."

I stumbled to my feet, my body aching like I was doused in kerosene and lit up in flames. The maid didn't offer to help me, didn't even look at me with a hint of compassion. I was nothing to her, just a worthless mutt.

I made my way to the bathroom, my legs trembling beneath me. The warm water of the bath trickled down my body and red water swirled around the floor before disappearing into the drain. I watched it go from red to pink till everything ran clear. I soaked for what felt like hours, trying to wash away the pain and dirt that clung to me.

As I bathed, I couldn't help but think of my mother. Where was she? What was she doing? Was she okay? The thought of her with Derrick made my empty stomach churn.

Finally, I emerged from the bathroom, feeling slightly more human. But the feeling was short-lived. A maid was waiting for me, her expression stern. "You're needed in the kitchen," she said. "The head maid wants to see you."

I followed her to the kitchen, my heart sinking. The kitchen staff were no different from Derrick. They had all turned on me, and it got all worse when I didn’t get my wolf at 18.

The head maid, Kayla, stood at the stove, her eyes narrowing as I approached. "Ah, Ariana. Finally decided to join us, have you?" she spat. "Get to work. We need breakfast prepared."

I nodded, trying to keep my head down. But it was no use. The other maids snickered and mocked me, giggling and passing snide comments.

"Hey, mutt," one of them called out. "Can't even shift. What's the point of you?"

“She isn’t even pathetic at this point, she’s pitiable,” another quipped.

I ignored them, focusing on keeping my tears from falling. I chopped vegetables, my hands moving mechanically as I tried to block out the taunts.

As I worked, Kayla watched me like a prey. "You're not doing that right," she snapped. "Do it again."

I did, my hands shaking with fear of being hit. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't seem to please her.

Just as I was finishing up, one of the maids called out. "Ariana, go fetch more firewood. We need it for the stove."

I nodded, leaving my cooking to attend to the task. As I returned, I saw that breakfast was almost ready. Kayla gestured to me. "Help serve," she commanded.

I nodded, my heart sinking. I knew what this meant. I would have to stand in the dining room, watching as Derrick and my mother ate their breakfast while he made a spectacle of her.

As I entered the dining room, I saw my mother sitting next to Derrick. She had me really early, so she was still very young and beautiful. Her eyes were empty and lifeless. There were deep hickeys littered all over her neck and chest as if Derrick wanted the world to know how much he had ravished her last night, and I felt sick to my stomach.

Derrick looked up at me, his lips curled into a malicious smirk. "Ah, Ariana. Good morning," he sneered.

I didn't respond. I couldn't. I curtsied and stood with the maids, my eyes fixed on the floor as Derrick and my mother ate their breakfast.

He whistled happily as he ate his food, muttering– for everyone to hear– how his steak was as tasty and tender as my mother’s….nether region, using a very colorful language, and I swallowed the fist-sized lump that had formed in my throat.

Everything seemed to be going fine, as fine as it could go, until he tasted the pudding. His face contorted in rage, and he spat out the food.

"Who made this?" he thundered, his voice echoing through the dining room.

Fear coursed through my veins, my heart racing. "I-I did," I stuttered.

Derrick's eyes narrowed into deathly slits. "You think you can poison me, Ariana? You think you can get away with it?"

I shook my head, terrified. "No, Derrick, I swear. I didn't mean to—"

But he cut me off, his hand flashing out to slap me. The sound of the impact was like a crack of thunder, and I felt my cheek burn with pain, and the familiar taste of copper filled my mouth.

"You packed a whole pack of salt into this pudding," he sneered. "You're trying to kill me."

The quiet snickers around me told me the maids had plotted this.

I tried to protest, but he silenced me with another deafening slap. And then, in a movement that seemed almost casual, he picked up the pudding dish and emptied its contents onto my chest.

The pain was instant, a searing burn that seemed to ignite my skin. I screamed, trying to brush off the scalding pudding, but it clung to my clothes, burning me.

“Derrick!” My mother screamed in horror, but I was too lost in my own pain to hear anything else.

Derrick's laughter was like a knife, twisting in my gut. "You'll go without food for the rest of the day," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you to try and poison me."

I stood there, my chest on fire, my eyes streaming with tears. The pain was raw and stifling, making it hard to breathe.

He dragged my mother away by her hair like a rag doll, leaving me to deal with my pain.

The maids busied themselves with cleaning, and I slipped out of the house through the back.

I couldn’t continue living in hell.

I couldn’t continue living a life worse than death itself.

Anything was better than dying silently and seeing the light fade from my mother’s eyes each time the sun rose.

So I ran.

I ran, my legs pumping, my lungs burning as houses gave way to trees. The trees blurred together, a green and brown haze that seemed to stretch on forever. I didn't know where I was going; I just knew I had to get away.

My limbs protested, my muscles screaming in agony. But I pushed on, pumping my legs on the damp earth as adrenaline coursed through my veins.

As I ran, 19 years worth of memories flashed before my eyes like a slideshow. I saw myself as a child, laughing and playing with my parents. I saw my father's warm smile, my mother's loving touch. I saw the happy family we once were.

And then, I saw the brutal murder, the blood-soaked floor, the sound of my father's dying breath. I saw Derrick's cruel face, his twisted grin. I saw the years of abuse, the endless pain and fear.

I stumbled, my feet carrying me to the edge of a cliff. The waterfall cascaded down, flowing free and without restraint. For a moment, I stood there, my toes curled over the edge.

The sound of the water crashing heavily on rocks rushed to my ears, and as the wind blew through my hair, I could almost taste freedom on my tongue.

Life wasn't worth living. The thought echoed in my mind, and sounded right as seconds ticked by. Why keep fighting? Why keep suffering?

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and leaned forward. But before I could take the final step, a hand grasped my wrist, pulling me back. I lost my footing, and my body landed hard on a chest.