It hurts

~IT HURTS~

My legs tremble. Not from pride this time, but real fear. I am already weak. My wolf is gone. My body feels too fragile for what I know is coming. Still, I lower myself onto the cold stone. It leeches warmth from my skin instantly.

“I hate to hurt you, Clary,” Hippy says quietly behind me. “But I can’t defy the Alpha.”

There is a metallic hiss as he uncoils the whip. Not leather, but wire.

The first strike splits the air before it splits my skin. Pain explodes across my back, white and blinding. A scream tears from my throat without permission.

“One.”

The second lands harder. My fingers claw at the stone.

“Two.”

By five, my voice is already breaking. By nine, I can taste blood in my mouth from biting down too hard. The wire bites through fabric, through skin, carving lines of fire across my back. Warmth spreads beneath me—my blood pooling on the cold floor.

“Ten.”

My body shakes violently. My vision swims. I am barely conscious of the numbers anymore. Pain becomes a wave that crashes over and over, leaving no space to breathe.

Footsteps echo from the entrance.

I force my head to turn. Father stands in the doorway.

For one foolish, fragile second, hope flares. Maybe he’s here to stop it. Maybe this has gone far enough.

“Is that how you whip someone?” Father’s voice slices through the walls. “If I did it myself, she wouldn’t survive a second count.”

The hope dies instantly.

“But we are teaching her a lesson,” he continues coldly. “Not killing her. Do it properly.”

My chest caves in. I don’t think it’s possible to hurt more than this, but I am wrong.

Hippy resumes.

Eleven.

The strike lands deeper, heavier. My scream dissolves into a broken sound that barely resembles a voice.

The pain no longer feels sharp. It feels endless. Consuming. My body jerks at each impact until it can’t anymore.

Somewhere around twenty-two, my screams stop. There is no air left in my lungs to fuel them. Only low, animal groans slip out between clenched teeth.

Eighteen.

As he whips me, I have a quick flash. It’s like something similar to this has happened to me before, but I can’t quite understand it. The memory is a blur of shadows and pain, flickering just out of reach.

A sharp whoop drifts me back to my reality. The sound of the wire cutting the air shatters the vision, dragging me back into the white-hot agony of the present.

My hands go slack.

Nineteen.

The world flickers at the edges.

Twenty.

Silence.

The whip falls still. My body lies unmoving on the stone, blood seeping beneath me. Every breath is shallow, fragile. I am not sure if my heart is still beating or if I am simply imagining it.

Father exhales through his teeth, a satisfied sound. Then his footsteps retreat without another word.

The door closes.

Hippy stands over me for a long moment. I cannot see his face. I can barely see anything. My vision is blurred by tears I no longer have the strength to shed.

“Help yourself up,” he mutters, his voice so low it barely reaches my ears. “And when you leave this place, find your way to the Gamma’s quarters—it’s the building to the left of this house.”

“The Gamma?” I whisper, my voice trembling.

“Doctor Karl,” he responds shortly, his eyes darting toward the door. “He will treat your wounds.”

Then he steps away.

I remain there, broken across the stone floor, staring at nothing.

I don’t know how much time passes. The pain is no longer sharp—it is everywhere, a living thing burrowed into my back, pulsing with every weak beat of my heart.

And then I feel it.

A flicker.

Deep inside my chest.

She stirs like something trapped beneath rubble. I feel her push once—weakly, like she’s testing chains I cannot see. A small surge of instinct rushes through me.

But she can’t break through.

The sensation vanishes as quickly as it comes, leaving behind an ache that is almost worse than the lashes.

“You’re still there,” I whisper to the emptiness inside me. “Aren’t you?”

There is no answer. Only the slow drag of breath in and out of my lungs.

I grit my teeth and force my palms against the stone.

The first attempt to stand sends lightning across my back. I collapse back down, choking on a cry.

My body feels like it belongs to someone else, someone shattered.

But I refuse to die on this floor.

Not for them.

With another trembling effort, I push up again. My knees buckle, but I manage to stay upright, swaying. My dress hangs in ruined strips. I gather the torn fabric across my chest, covering myself with shaking hands.

I need Doctor Karl. The Gamma. Whatever they call him, he’s the only one who can stop this bleeding.

I stagger toward the entrance, one hand sliding along the wall to steady myself. Each step leaves a faint smear of red behind me. The corridor stretches endlessly.

My vision flickers at the edges, but I focus on one thought only, to keep walking.

I know that now.

And I will not beg for life from family who despise me.

If I am to die, I’d rather be married to the brutal Alpha than die at the hands of a family I barely remember. There has to be a deeper truth behind the night I supposedly tried to end it all.

By the time I reach the outer courtyard, the sunlight feels cruel against my skin. Conversations falter as I emerge. Heads turn.

They see the blood, torn fabric, and weakness.

And they step away.

Some avert their eyes as though I shame them. Others stare openly. A young warrior mutters something under his breath. A woman near the well spits on the ground after I pass.

Not one of them reaches for me.

I keep walking.

Each step feels like it might be the last. My legs tremble violently. Twice I nearly fall. I taste copper in my mouth. The world tilts sideways, but I force it back into place.