Chapter 8

Clarissa’s POV

I pressed my palms against the mattress and slowly sat up. Every muscle in my body screamed, but I didn’t cry. I never did. I'd learned that tears didn’t fix anything-they just gave people more reasons to call you weak.

"Good morning," Tessy said, a smile in her tone.

“Morning,” I whispered back. My voice still cracked like an old record.

“You feel up to sitting outside for a bit? It’s sunny today. The backyard has the softest grass in the world.”

I hesitated. I hadn’t been outside in days. Weeks? I’d lost track of time.

Still, something about the way she spoke made me nod. “Okay.”

She helped me into fresh clothes-soft leggings and a sweater that smelled of vanilla-and led me through the halls. I counted my steps, tried to memorize turns, but everything was unfamiliar. Not that it mattered. I was blind. I’d always be dependent.

Or so I thought.

When we stepped outside, a breeze kissed my face. Gentle. Alive.

And then I felt it-the sun.

I tilted my head up and breathed in deep. It was the first time in so long I didn’t smell blood or ash or rot.

I felt human.

Alive.

We sat in the grass together. Tessy talked. I listened. She told me about the pack-about how her brother Drey became alpha two years ago, how he led not through fear, but respect.

“He doesn’t believe in punishment for weakness,” she said. “Only guidance. And healing.”

I flinched at the word. Healing. It felt foreign to me.

Still, I liked the way she said it. Like it was possible.

She gave me a small pastry-flaky and warm with fruit in the center. I didn’t realize I was hungry until the first bite made my mouth water.

“I don’t deserve this,” I whispered. It slipped out before I could catch it.

Tessy turned to me. “Why would you think that?”

I didn’t know how to answer. I wasn’t even sure she’d believe me if I told her. That I was used to rotting leftovers. That I’d been kicked for being too slow. That I was blind, broken, and once wished I hadn’t survived the attack at all.

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

She was quiet for a moment. Then she placed her hand over mine.

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

It shattered something in me.

Not all at once.

But I felt the crack.

……………………………………………

Later that day, she asked me if I wanted to try school again.

I froze.

“Why?”

“Because there’s more to you than what’s been done to you,” she said. “And because you’re smart. And capable. And I think you’d love literature.”

I used to love stories-before life became a nightmare. When I still believed in happy endings.

Now, I wasn’t sure.

“I don’t know…”

She leaned in. “Just try. One day. If you hate it, you never have to go back.”

Her voice was soft, but it held something firm beneath it. A challenge. A belief I didn’t yet have in myself.

I agreed.

……………………………………………..

The next morning, Tessy walked me to the pack's school building. It was quiet, peaceful-nothing like the cold stone classrooms I grew up in, where silence meant fear and teachers looked down on you like a burden.

Here, I was greeted by the soft tap of students’ feet, friendly chatter, and the fresh scent of polished wood. A girl named Casey introduced herself. She took my hand and led me to my seat like it was the most natural thing in the world. No staring. No whispers. No one questioned my place.

For the first time, I felt like I belonged in a space.

Even when I stumbled. Even when I accidentally knocked over my pencil or asked for help finding my locker.

No one laughed.

They helped.

And they smiled.

……………………………………………..

When I returned home that day, I felt different.

Not fixed. Not whole.

But like I had something to look forward to.

At dinner, Tessy asked how it went. I tried to keep my face neutral. Tried to downplay it.

“It was fine,” I mumbled.

But she saw right through me.

“Just fine?”

I cracked a smile.

“Maybe… a little more than fine.”

She threw her hands up and clapped. “Yes! That’s progress!”

I laughed before I could stop myself. It was soft, brief-but real.

She grinned. “You just laughed, Clarissa. Do you even know how huge that is?”

I bit my lip, unsure how to respond.

Because deep down, I did know.

And it scared me how good it felt.

That night, I sat outside alone.

The stars were out. I couldn’t see them, but I could feel the night air shift.

The moon hung above me. I could sense it-like it was watching.

And I whispered something to it.

“Maybe I’m not broken after all.”

My wolf didn’t stir.

But she was there.

Quiet. Waiting.

Maybe she wasn’t silent out of hatred or shame.

Maybe she was healing too.

Just like me.