Chapter 5

Clarissa's POV

I opened my eyes slowly, though it didn’t make much difference. Darkness greeted me, as always. But this darkness was somehow softer. It wasn’t the suffocating black of the cellar where they used to throw me, nor the ice-cold void of the woods where I nearly bled out. No, this darkness held warmth. It whispered silence instead of screaming pain. It smelled like fresh linen, faint cinnamon, and something green; herbal, earthy.

I wasn’t home.

But then again, that place had never truly been home. That house... that pack... they'd left marks on my soul that ran deeper than any scar on my skin.

This place was too still. Too calm. Too kind. And that terrified me more than the howls of my tormentors.

My body felt heavy. Not with pain though some of that lingered but with exhaustion. I was wrapped in soft blankets that didn’t scratch. A pillow cupped the back of my head like clouds had finally decided to carry me.

My side throbbed when I turned slightly, a reminder that my body had been broken recently and not for the first time. But the ache was cleaner now. I managed to reach down with trembling fingers and felt fresh bandages tucked tightly around my ribs.

Someone had cared enough to wrap them. Someone had made the bed soft. Someone had washed the blood away.

And I didn’t trust it.

The door creaked open. My muscles tensed before my mind could tell them not to.

“Hey,” a soft voice called out. It was feminine. “You’re awake.”

I didn’t answer.

“I’m Tessy. Drey’s sister.”

Still, I said nothing. My throat didn’t work right when I was scared, and I was always scared. It had learned to close on command, to silence me before I could say something that would get me punished. Too many years of flinching taught it well.

“I brought you some soup,” she added, coming closer. “Chicken. Not too hot.”

I heard the clink of a spoon against ceramic. Then silence.

She didn’t move yet I could feel her presence . I could tell that she was watching but not in a judgemental way. There was... concern in the way the silence stretched between us, like she didn’t want to leave me alone but wouldn’t force closeness either.

“I don’t know what happened to you,” she said quietly, “but you’re safe now. Nobody here’s gonna hurt you.”

My shoulders still flinched.

Safe?

That sounded foreign.

“You don’t have to talk,” she added quickly. “Just... eat when you can.”

The door shut behind her.

Only then did I sit up, moving in careful inches. My ribs screamed, but I didn’t care. I found the edge of the tray, slid my hand toward the bowl. It was warm but not scalding. I dipped the spoon and brought it to my lips.

I ate.

Not because I was hungry.

But because I needed strength.

Because I didn’t know what tomorrow held.

Because I couldn’t afford to be weak - not again.

…………………….

The next few days passed in a daze.

Drey came only a few times. He didn’t ask questions. He just checked the bandages, left food, muttered things like “You're healing faster than expected” or “Don’t rush yourself”, and left.

He felt like a shadow at first. Though he was not oppressive.

Tessy was different.

She stayed.

She hummed when she cleaned the room, sang off-key songs about wolves and moons and dancing. She told stories about the Riverside Pack. Nothing too deep though, just enough to paint color where my world had always been gray.

She didn’t demand anything of me. She didn’t try to pry the silence from my lips like so many others had.

She just sat near the window, talking to the light. As if she trusted it would reach me eventually.

It should’ve annoyed me.

But it didn’t.

Still, I didn’t speak.

The words lived inside me, stirring things buried beneath years of cruelty. Every time they tried to crawl up my throat, my body remembered what came after speaking: a slap, a blow, a collar. Silence had become my armor.

And I didn’t know how to take it off.

……………………..

On the third morning, Tessy came in carrying a small stack of clothes.

“These might be a little big,” she said gently, placing them on the bed beside me. “But they’re soft and better than hospital gowns, I think.”

I reached out, hesitantly and touched the fabric. It was made of soft cotton and was washed in lavender.

She didn’t gasp at the bruises on my arms neither did she flinch at the ridged scars. She just smiled.

“I know it’s hard,” she murmured. “I’ve been hurt too. Not the same way, but... I get it. This place, it’s not perfect but my brother… he doesn’t believe in ranks deciding worth. He believes in people.”

People.

Not omegas.

Not freaks.

Not blind burdens.

People.

My lips parted.

But no sound came out.

She reached out slowly, a rustle of fabric telling me she was near. I braced myself but her hand touched mine so lightly I almost didn’t feel it.

“You don’t have to be okay,” she whispered. “You just have to stay.”

………………………

That night, the dream came back.

The cold was sharper in dreams. I was lying in the woods, skin torn, ribs shattered. Blood soaked the earth beneath me. I heard the voices before I saw the faces.

“Cursed.”

“Blind rat.”

“Worthless.”

Derek’s boots crunched leaves as he stepped over me, his disgust bleeding into every word.

“We should’ve drowned you at birth.”

I opened my mouth to scream.

Blood poured out.

I choked on it.

Drowned in it.

I woke with a gasp, heart crashing against my ribs like it was trying to break free. My whole body shook. My hands clenched the blanket in a death grip, and my throat was raw with the scream I hadn’t let out.

I didn’t know I was crying until the tears hit my collarbone.

Then the door creaked open.

“Clarissa?” It was Drey this time. His voice was quiet. Steady.

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“I heard you cry out. Can I come in?”

I still didn’t speak. But I didn’t say no either.

The bed dipped slightly as he sat near the edge. He didn’t touch me. Didn’t lean in. Just sat close enough for his presence to feel like a wall between me and the monsters.

“I used to have nightmares too,” he said after a while. “After my father died. After I became Alpha... I’d wake up thinking the shadows were going to eat me alive.”

My breath hitched.

“I felt alone. Like I didn’t belong in my own skin.”

I wiped my face, mortified. But he didn’t comment on the tears.

“I’m not comparing,” he added gently. “I just mean... I know what haunted feels like.”

I didn’t speak.

But something inside me unclenched.

He stood slowly, the mattress shifting beneath his weight.

“You’re not weak, Clarissa and you’re not a burden. You never were.”

He started to leave.

My lips cracked open.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He paused in the doorway. I couldn’t see his face, but I felt his energy shift, like something important had just been planted between us.

Then, the door clicked shut.