Chapter 7

Clarissa’s POV

I pressed my palms against the mattress and forced myself upright. Pain flared through my ribs, my back and my arms. My whole body ached like it had been forged from cracked glass but I didn’t cry. I never did. I’d learned a long time ago that tears didn’t solve anything. They just gave people permission to see you as weak.

"Good morning," Tessy’s voice drifted in, light and warm, like sunlight through curtains.

“Morning,” I responded, surprised by how jagged and raw my voice still sounded.

“You feel like sitting outside for a while? The sun’s out today, and I swear, our backyard has the softest grass in the world.”

I hesitated. The idea of sitting outside felt foreign. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt sunlight or grass under my feet. Days had blurred into each other, time stretched thin by pain and sleep. Still, something in her voice tugged at me. I nodded before I could talk myself out of it. “Okay.”

Tessy helped me change into clean clothes; soft leggings and a sweater that smelled faintly of vanilla and lavender. She guided me gently through the house. I counted steps, listened for echoes and tried to memorize the turns. But none of it mattered. I was blind and even with a map, I’d still be dependent.

Or so I thought.

The moment we stepped outside, the world changed.

Breeze touched my face; it was cool, gentle and real. Then the sun bathed my skin in warmth. I tilted my face toward it and inhaled deeply. For the first time in what felt like forever, I didn’t smell blood, ash or rot.

I smelled life.

And I felt it too.

We sat together on the grass. Tessy talked while I listened. She told me stories about the pack; how her brother Drey became Alpha two years ago, how he refused to lead with fear. He chose respect and peace when others would’ve chosen dominance.

“He doesn’t punish weakness,” Tessy said. “He teaches and guides. He believes healing is the real strength.”

The word healing made me flinch. It sounded like something reserved for people who deserved it.

Still, I liked the way she said it. Like it wasn’t just possible but natural.

She handed me a pastry, it was flaky and still warm, filled with something sweet and fruity. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I took the first bite. My stomach twisted with sudden need.

“I don’t deserve this,” I whispered. The words escaped before I could stop them.

Tessy’s voice softened. “Why would you say that?”

I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. What would I even say? That I was used to moldy bread crusts and bruises? That I'd learned to eat in silence and apologize for existing? That I once believed dying in that battlefield would’ve been easier than surviving?

Instead, I muttered, “Because I’m not useful. Not like you.”

Tessy didn’t speak right away. Then, her hand slid gently over mine.

“You don’t have to earn kindness, Clarissa. You deserve it just by breathing.”

It shattered something in me.

Not like glass. Not loud.

More like the slow cracking of ice as it thaws.

……………

That same afternoon, Tessy asked if I’d ever considered going back to school.

I froze.

“Why?” I asked.

“Because there’s more to you than what’s been done to you. Because you’re bright. Because I think you’d fall in love with literature again if you allow yourself.”

Stories

I used to love them - Fairytales, epics, legends. Words that let me believe in magic, in strength and in justice. But that was before the nightmares. Before I stopped believing happy endings were made for people like me.

“I don’t know...”

She leaned closer, her voice was calm but firm. “Just try.m. If you hate it, you don’t have to go back.”

I hesitated… and then I nodded.

……………………..

The next morning, Tessy walked me to the school building near the edge of the pack’s territory. It wasn’t cold or sterile like the places I remembered. It smelled of fresh wood and wildflowers. I heard footsteps; some hurried and some light. Laughter drifted through the halls. Not out of mockery but genuine.

A girl named Casey introduced herself. She took my hands without hesitation nor pity. She guided me to my seat, describing the room in soft detail. No one stared. No one whispered. They just… helped. When I knocked over a pencil, someone picked it up. When I asked where my locker was, two students offered to help me locate it.

It wasn’t perfect. But it felt… safe.

And for the first time, I wondered what it might be like to belong somewhere.

……………………..

By the time we got home, something inside me had shifted. I didn’t feel whole neither did I feel healed.

But I felt the tiniest spark of hope.

At dinner, Tessy asked how it went. I tried to keep my voice even. “It was fine.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Just fine?”

I cracked a small smile. “Maybe a little better than fine.”

She clapped her hands like a child and laughed. “Clarissa! That’s huge!”

I laughed with her. Just once. It was soft and cautious.

But it was real.

She leaned forward. “You just laughed. Do you even know how big that is?”

I nodded, swallowing back something sharp in my throat.

Because deep down… I did know.

And it scared me how good it felt.

……..,......

That night, I sat outside alone beneath the stars I couldn’t see.

The air was still and cool. The kind of quiet that only comes when the world is listening.

I tilted my face to the moon.

“Maybe I’m not broken after all,” I whispered.

My wolf didn’t stir.

But I felt her.

She was close and was waiting patiently.

Not silent in judgment but quiet in patience.

Maybe she was healing too.

Just like me.

I stood slowly, breathing in the night. I almost turned to go back inside when I felt it.