Marked in Darkness

The few rays of light that pass through the skylight of my basement bedroom make me think it must be around six or seven in the morning. Soon, the Alpha of this so-called pack would come, and I had to prepare the house.

Yesterday, I didn’t understand why I was told to clean and prepare dinner. It had been several months since I last performed such a task. As the Beta’s son once said, “You’re too hideous to look at for us to let you wander around the house and touch our things.” As if I carried some contagious disease…

So yes, I was more than surprised when they allowed me out of my room. I certainly wasn’t going to complain, getting out of my prison for a few hours was enough to lift my spirits. I could feel the sun burning against my skin again, maybe even go outside to breathe the forest air, to hear sounds other than the clanging of cold metal against the walls.

The heavy door that keeps me prisoner suddenly slams open, crashing against the wall. The Alpha steps into the cellar, his eyes filled with disgust. I lie on my torn, dirty, stinking makeshift bed, it barely resembles one anymore.

My uncle crouches in front of me. I don’t dare meet his eyes. I’ve learned never to challenge authority here, though the rebellious part of me sometimes wants to. But today, I keep still.

“Today,” he says, his voice a growl of command, “I am going to give you a privilege. Take these clothes and get dressed. Then you’ll clean the house from top to bottom. This afternoon, you’ll prepare the finest meal. The head cook has been… fired for good.”

A shiver runs down my spine. I know what that means. That poor woman didn’t leave whole, and I doubt she’s still alive.

“No one else can prepare a proper feast for our guests,” he continues. “Until we find someone more competent, you’ll return to your old duties.”

Should I be glad or not? Conflicting emotions twist inside me. In truth, I don’t care. I just take the clothes he throws on the floor and move to the little corner of my room, my makeshift toilet and small sink.

When I glance back, he’s still there. His eyes linger strangely on me, and I don’t want to know what that glint means. He finally looks away. A moment later, the door closes with a loud thud, but I notice he didn’t lock it.

The message is clear: Get to work immediately.

With the little soap I have, I quickly wash my face and push my filthy hair behind my back. I have nothing to tie it with, so it remains messy, falling all the way down to my lower back. I wish I could cut it short, but I’m not allowed to, my tormentors enjoy pulling it during their punishments. They claim it heightens their pleasure.

A bitter taste rises in my throat. I force the memories back into their hidden box deep in my mind and slip into the long black dress. I own no undergarments, no accessories, but who needs them when the sole purpose of your life is survival?

Climbing the stairs with a mix of dread and anticipation, I push open the iron door and step straight into the kitchen. Sunlight touches my skin, painting it with a faint honeyed glow. A weak smile curves my lips, it comforts me to see I haven’t completely lost the color I inherited from my late father.

A sudden noise makes me flinch. My eyes land on the pack’s first lieutenant, busy filling the large refrigerator. My stomach growls; it’s been days since I’ve eaten enough. Still, I know better than to take anything without permission. One mistake, and I’ll be beaten again.

I turn away from the food and head for the cupboard, grabbing what I need to clean the house. Hours blur into one another as I scrub, dust, and wash, moving like a ghost from room to room.

When lunchtime arrives, I hide in one of the guest rooms, unwilling to face the pack. Meals are sacred here, the Alpha, his son, the Beta, and his son all gather to discuss politics and pack affairs. No servant is allowed near them except those who serve their dishes.

And I have no desire to see my worst tormentors gathered in one place.

When their lunch ends, I head back to the kitchen to start preparing dinner. Starter, main course, dessert, everything is already listed neatly on the counter. I know exactly what they want. Time is tight, but I have no choice; failure always comes with consequences.

Hours pass. By the time the sun begins to fall, I’ve just finished the last touches. I set the table quickly, making everything look perfect. Only the glasses are missing when I hear the sound of approaching footsteps. My blood runs cold.

I rush toward the cellar door, desperate to disappear before they arrive, no time left to perfect the table setting…

A hand grabs my hair and yanks me backward, slamming me to the ground. The Beta’s son towers over me, his stance threatening, his eyes dark and feral. Fear grips my throat. His wolf is restless, hungry, and I know I am his target.

I had done everything I was told. Still, I knew what was coming. He had probably been waiting for this moment all day.

His hand tightens in my hair, forcing me up onto my feet before he shoves me toward the cellar, slamming the door shut behind us. The shove sends me tumbling down the stairs, my head hits the ground first. Pain explodes through my jaw and ribs.

He descends slowly, each step filled with venom and desire for cruelty. I crawl backward until my spine hits the wall, trying to make myself smaller, invisible.

“So, my soulmate,” he sneers, “you thought you could escape me today? The table wasn’t ready on time, and you know what that means.”

Yes. I knew all too well.

You must be able to enjoy all the pleasures that I offer you. His eyes are a few millimeters from mine, and I can't hold back a silent tear. My control was broken, I was aware of everything around me. Make him go away and leave me alone, please. Since you have been naughty, I will give you an eternal gift.

With that, his gun crashes violently into my thigh, making me scream. It wasn't a standard knife, I could feel that. It was specially designed to burn the flesh of a wolf and leave lifelong scars on my body. During all these years of torture, he had left many marks on me, most of which had disappeared over time. But this one would not go away so easily, I felt it in the depths of my soul.

My attacker ran the blade several times across my stomach, as well as my right breast, scarring it for life. The cuts weren't too deep but burned to the point where my voice cracked from screaming. Suddenly, the blows stop, and I open my eyes feverishly. The man is still above me, staring darkly.

The cellar door bursts open suddenly. A voice, his father’s, the Beta, calls from above, announcing that their guest has reached the edge of the territory.

My attacker straightens, his breath ragged. He bends close one last time, his lips near my ear, his voice a low hiss of possession:

“You thought you could escape me, my little angel. But now you’re marked, forever. You belong to me, even in your flesh.”

With a final cruel laugh, he leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

Silence.

I lie in a pool of blood, darkness closing in around me. My breath grows shallow, my heartbeat fading. Maybe, just maybe, this is the end I’ve been waiting for.

I let the darkness take me, and finally, there is peace.