Chapter Text
Delilah
It had been a long night of restless sleep again. My twin mattress, laying askew on the bare floor, was no longer comfortable. Neither was my own room. It was all saturated with the essence of pain. The oppressive four walls constantly felt like they were closing in on me, and the single light that I could never darken no matter what, taunted me.
I couldn't find a switch, a button, or anything to turn that damned light off. It kept me visible at all times for my mother and sister to see. They would walk in at any time without warning. Sometimes it was just to yell at me and scream, other times to beat me.
I rubbed my itching neck. For as long as I could remember, I had been forced to wear leather collars. They were uncomfortable and tight, and my tormentors would use them to either hold me in place or catch me if I dared try to run. I had the faintest memory of a time when I didn't wear a collar - when I was little and could still go to school with the rest of the pack.
That was before we were banished from our old pack, where my stepfather had died suddenly. My mom and sister said it was all my fault, and ever since then I've been living like this - collared, beaten, starved. Whatever I did to deserve this must have been really, really bad. If I could just remember what I did, maybe I could fix this and make mom and my sister happy again.
As I lay on my mattress, thinking about how this was what I deserved, I finally felt the sweet embrace of sleep filling my tired eyes. I closed them for just a second...
“DELILAH ANSTON JAMES!” my sister's voice shrieked, jolting me from the dreamless sleep I had finally succumbed to.
I scrambled to stand up, dizzy and confused, and yelped as my sister yanked on my collar. My vision cleared slowly, and she cuffed me upside the head for being so slow to get up.
“It's breakfast time. Get your ass into the kitchen and make us some eggs!” my sister snarled.
“Yes.” I replied. I wasn't allowed to speak more than necessary.
My sister shoved me in the direction of the door, and I stumbled into the hallway. I could see my mother sitting at the table with her coffee, angrily reading the newspaper. She glanced up at me and turned the page loudly. I scuttled into the kitchen and began preparing eggs, bacon, toast, and pancakes.
The heat from the stove made my neck itch worse, but I had to ignore it if I was going to get the food out in time. The faster I was, the better chance I had of eating something myself before I began the day's chores. I marked off exactly how many eggs, cups of pancake mix, strips of bacon and slices of bread I used. Mother always kept careful stock of what was used when I was in the kitchen, “in case of any ideas.” I hadn't eaten for two days, but today I was holding on to a spark of hope...
That hope was dashed as soon as my sister dug into her plate. She wolfed everything down and chugged at her milk, grabbing spoonfuls from the other platters as she did so. I knelt in my corner, disgusted and wanting to cry yet awaiting further commands. Mother was following suit, eating quickly and spooning more onto her plate.
“Katrina, what are your plans for today?” my mother asked my sister.
Katrina chewed thoughtfully. “Well, I've made some friends from that nearby pack. If I can get one of the males to sleep with me, or even fall for me, maybe he'll choose me over his destined mate. We would become part of his pack if that happened. I have a few other males in mind, too, just in case he won’t vouch for us.”
Mother hummed and nodded her head. “Keep me updated on that.”
They ate in silence. I stayed kneeling, waiting, starving.
“Delilah!” Mother snapped sharply. “You may eat the scraps before doing the dishes. Then get the list from the fridge. I am heading out today as well. I expect everything to be done before Katrina and I are home.”
“Yes.” I nodded. I began gathering the platters and taking them to the kitchen counter. There were a few mouthfuls left of everything, I was surprised to see. It was a meager feast for me, but once all the dishes were cleaned up from the table I practically inhaled those mouthfuls. I chomped noisily as I grabbed the list from the fridge and began to wash the dishes. Today I was to have the house and all the dishes cleaned up and dinner in the oven by 5. Tonight's dinner was a pork loin roast with potatoes and asparagus.
There was nothing for lunch, as usual, other than a warning not to eat anything unless instructed to do so. I got to work washing dishes immediately, hoping everything would be done before dinner time. Pork loin sounded really good, and I just wanted to eat more. Mother cleared her throat, and I rushed to the door. I pulled her coat out of the closet and helped her into it, then did the same with Katrina. I bowed my head as they primped themselves up before they opened the door and stepped out. As soon as the lock clicked, I sighed sadly.
Dejected, I slunk into the kitchen and continued the dishes. I wished I could go to school- I remembered having fun playing with the other wolf pups at recess. Letting those dim memories swirl thoughtfully through my mind, I worked on the rest of the house and got the roast ready. The laundry was humming, the walls were wiped down, and the floors were swept and mopped. Chores were always faster when I could think of something positive.
As I cleaned, I could feel the sweat dripping off my body. The warm, grainy, salty drops of sweat coated me in a thin film of grime. I wondered when mother would allow me to shower again- it had been a couple of weeks. My hair was grungy and had some mats in it from not being allowed to use a hair brush consistently. My scalp itched a lot.
Clumps of hair bonded together from the sweat that clung to the strands. If I couldn’t brush them out, they would add to the mat collection my hair had going. I wiped my brow with the back of my arm and kept cleaning.
Katrina was allowed to use the shower whenever she wanted- she had so many fragrant and luxurious essentials in there. They all smelled so good, and she was allowed to use perfume and deodorant for school. I was envious. When I was allowed to shower, it was forbidden for me to touch anything of hers and only use a plain 3-in-1 formula. She had loofahs and shower brushes. I had a ratty old washcloth. She had luxurious, fluffy towels. I had a thin towel that never got me dry. Honestly though, for rogue wolves, we were doing pretty well for ourselves. We’d seen other rogues before, and they were horrifying- rank, filthy, and red eyed. We, at least, were clean.
I didn’t want us to be rogues forever. I really hoped whatever plan Katrina had would work, and I could escape at last. To be a rogue wolf, or even a lone wolf, is as close to a death sentence as a werewolf can get. Without a pack, there’s no protection from other wolf attacks and when we die, we don’t get buried with a pack. Rogue wolves typically start to go insane as they get older, and they begin attacking any other wolf they come across. No one is ever really sure of the intentions behind those attacks. Whatever pack mother and sister went to, I would only follow until I could transfer to a different pack. I had decided years ago I would run the moment I had a chance. My best chances were either finding my mate and hoping he was from another pack, requesting a job within another pack and having the Alphas agree to a transfer, or simply begging another Alpha to take me in. I would not stay with my sister and mother for any longer than I had to.
I couldn’t run yet merely because I was not prepared. I didn’t have my wolf yet, which was a major problem. We’re considered “pups” until we’re around age 25, though at age 18, there’s still a lot to learn before taking over a pack. This doesn’t stop the mating frenzies and mass of teenage pregnancies, though. A wolf’s gestation is around five months, and we grow fast in the womb.
Not having my wolf meant I did not have any survival skills. Pups don’t learn survival skills until much later. When our wolf, our other half, finally emerges and shares our mind, they teach us how to tap into our primal instincts. We learn to hunt, to track, to cache food for later, and to eat meat raw. We build up our relationships with other packs members and thus build up teamwork.
Every werewolf gets their wolf at the age of 18. They’re the second half of our soul. We’re then able to shift into our wolf form and speak with our wolf, then our senses are enhanced even further than they were before. The best part of all for many wolves is finding their mate- their other half, as well as their wolf’s other half. We don’t pick and choose mates, for they are destined from our great mother, the Moon Goddess. She guides our paths through life. I’ve prayed to her so many times, begging for a way out of here.
My neck itched, and I rubbed my fingertips under the leather. I couldn’t remove my collar on my own, either, as it had a tiny padlock, and only Mother had the key. I couldn’t just steal food and run away as a lone rogue. I’d never find a pack to welcome me in then. The only clothes I had were in tatters and would not protect me from the elements - thin t-shirts, thin sweatpants, socks full of holes and underwear that just didn’t fit. Ever. And to top it all off, I didn’t have any shoes. I couldn’t even remember wearing shoes. I must have, when I went to school. My feet were scary to look at- thick soles, overgrown toenails, hairy toes. There was a scar on my left foot from where I’d cut myself on broken glass two years ago. Every step I took tingled in pain, especially on my heels, as though there were permanent splinters within my skin.
As I was scrubbing off the ring in the toilet, I paused to look at the makeup and jewelry on the counter. Mother and Katrina always looked so beautiful, and they also made strides to enhance that beauty. I had been forbidden from touching any of these, especially since Katrina didn’t want my “little rogue bitch stench” getting mixed in. It would ruin her chances of getting on the good side of the pack she went to high school with. She was already 18, with her wolf, and she was hunting for her mate within that particular pack, whether he was destined or not. A destined mate is someone that our deity, the Moon Goddess, chooses for you. It’s said that when you meet for the first time, you get intoxicated by their scent and it drives you mad until you find each other. You’re immediately drawn to each other, and a lot of wolves nearly make love right then and there because the urge to claim their mate is so strong. It’s supposed to be a magical, electrifying time. When you touch each other, sparks and tingles erupt and your heart skips a beat. However, sometimes things go wrong and you end up having to choose a mate from a pool of unmated or rejected wolves. Anyone can reject or be rejected, anyone can die, and anyone can be victims of never having found their mate.
Katrina was hoping to find her destined mate, I knew, but she was also using every trick in the book to lure in a chosen mate. This was all for the sake of finally becoming part of a pack. The one time I did touch her things, I lost my school privileges. I was not in the mood to clean or do any chores, and it was one of the first times I was left alone. I remember how itchy my new collar made me, and how I sought relief. I scratched up my neck and the scratches were burning and itching as they healed beneath the leather. I felt like something in Katrina’s makeup would make me feel better. Her eyes always looked so pretty when defined with eye shadow, and she used very expensive products. So I played around with all of it and made a massive mess all over myself, the mirror, the counter, and the floor. I didn’t know what belonged where. I managed to find a bottle of mildly soothing lotion and rubbed what I could under my neck, which did help a little with the itching. When mother got home with Katrina in tow, I proudly presented myself. The beatings I received that night taught me to always do my chores and keep away from everything that wasn’t mine.
After they were done, I had to clean the mess up while they went to bed. I had deserved the beating for what I’d done. I helped myself to some dinner afterwards and was beaten in the morning for stealing food. Again, I learned my lesson.
I mouthed off a few times after that, asking questions and demanding answers. Why was only I kept home? Why did I have to do all the cooking and cleaning? Why wasn’t I allowed to go to school anymore? The beatings that came after quickly fixed that issue. I learned never to speak unless spoken to and to keep it very short.
During my musing, I’d moved on by now to sweeping the hallway and paused by a door. This particular door I had been forbidden to touch, and having learned so many lessons, I knew better than to try my luck. But this door also had an overwhelming presence to it, somehow, warning me to stay away. It felt like being alone in a dark alley, with a single dim light to guide you, yet you know something is wrong. One step in the wrong direction and perhaps you’ll die. The problem is both ends of the alleyway are the wrong direction, so you stay put in fear. It gave me the chills, and I hurried away from it.
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Soon, it was 3 PM. I was working on preparing the meat and veggies when Katrina burst through the front door and startled me. She ran into the kitchen and yelled, “Get me something for my guests!”
I stared at her in confusion, and she slapped me. “I have friends over, get us drinks and snacks!”
I whimpered and bowed my head, gritting my teeth as another couple of slaps hit my cheeks. As soon as she let me go I booked it to the pantry and got as many bags of chips and cookies as I could and a box of sodas, then rushed them to the doorway where she stood. Katrina was wringing her hands together, glancing at the front door and back at me. I heard voices on the other side, and my heart jumped. Katrina yanked the snacks away from me and rushed to pile them on the couch.
“Good. Get that roast in the oven and get in your room. I’m letting them in. Do not look at anyone or speak to anyone. As far as they know, you’re my introverted cousin who hates other people and would rather be left alone. Got it?” Katrina ordered. I nodded and quickly finished up what I was doing, putting the roast on a low setting before making a beeline to my room- where she locked the door behind me. I hadn't even had time to mark off what was taken from Mother's inventory.
I heard giggling and the sounds of several male and female voices floating down the hall, and I leaned against my door to better hear them. I couldn't make out the words, but listening to how happy everyone sounded broke my heart, and I began to cry. I choked back any noise I would make and kneaded my nails against my carpet in frustration. Here I was, locked away from the world, while Katrina and mother were happily engaging in the outside and making friends. I couldn’t remember my friends from when I used to go to school. I wondered, in that moment of heartbreak, if they even remembered me. If someone out there was looking for me.
I wanted out of here, and my only hope was when I got my wolf- then I could finally be free. We would run away and live a life of peace with plenty of food. Free from the pain, free to eat as we pleased, and free of these constant chores. Katrina and her friends would most likely leave a huge mess for me to clean up and mother was going to be angry about it. That and the unmarked food.
I wished so badly one of those wolves out there would pick up my scent and ask about me. That they would realize I was here, and ask their pack for help. Accepting Katrina and mother into the pack would set me free. I didn't care what pack, even, just not one that I would have to share with them. I laid down on my mattress and pulled my pillow over my head, trying to drown out the happy voices.
Katrina didn't let me out that evening. Neither did Mother. I could hear them eating the pork loin I had cooked and laughing about something when Katrina's friends were gone. Their voices were so happy and my heart ached, wishing I could be part of their happy world. I had resigned myself to trying to sleep when mother opened my door and strode in.
“Get up, Delilah.” She growled. I stood immediately. She tore the collar off my neck and replaced it with a new one. This one was heavier and much thicker, and much wider. It burned my skin a little, and I whimpered.
“Shut up,” mother cuffed me. “Come on.”
I followed her out of my room and down the hallway to the creepy door. She opened it and gestured to me to go first. It looked like a cellar, but to reach it I had to go down the stairs first. I was apprehensive, hesitating at the door jamb. The air was stale down here, and it was dark and dirty. I could almost choke on the smell of dust. Mother growled at me to get moving and I did so quickly, clinging to the wall and worried she would kick me so I'd fall down the stairs to my death. Thankfully, she didn't. She just followed me and turned on a very dim, yellow bulb when we reached the bottom of the stairs.
“You're to stay here from now on,” she said. I looked around and my heart sank. In one corner of the room, there was a cell. I couldn't tell if the bars were iron or silver. There was a small bed, a sink, and a toilet. Just like a prison cell. “You cannot be trusted upstairs anymore, and I don't want to see your goddamned face. You look too much like your good-for-nothing father.”
I bit my lip. “M-mommy-”
“DO NOT CALL ME THAT!” mother roared and whipped around, backhanding me on the cheek so hard I tasted blood. I’d bitten down harder on my lip upon contact. I stumbled, but kept myself standing. If I fell, I might never get up again. Mother was moving her arms in the darkness, as though she was pulling something on. “GET IN YOUR CELL.”
I hesitated. I could never get out of that cell. Even with my wolf.
Mother grabbed me by the hair and dragged me into the oppressive space. I didn't fight back. I struggled to keep up with her, however, she kicked me in response. I hit the floor from the force of her kick, and she grabbed my collar. I hadn't realized she was wearing thick gloves before, but now that she was towering over me I could see them. That’s what she must have been doing earlier. She pulled a chain close and clipped it to my collar, hissing slightly through her teeth at the contact.
The chain was made of silver. It was as though the chain ignited the collar, and my neck felt like it was on fire. I screamed in pain and writhed on the floor. I dimly registered Mother’s leaving and locking the cell behind her.
“MOMMY PLEASE- IT HURTS- I'LL BE GOOD!” I begged. “IT HURTS!”
She ignored me and walked up the stairs. She paused at the top, and I cried for her one last time before the door slammed shut and I was enclosed in darkness. I never knew this cell was here- this door had been forbidden. And now I know why. Eventually, the pain began to subside to a dull throbbing, and I wept loudly. The silver would keep my wolf from coming to me.
I would be trapped here forever.
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Encased in the dark, I didn't know how much time had passed. Mother would come down with three cans of soup and some stale bread for my meals and would leave me behind in the dark as soon as she was done. I had to learn to portion out my soups- it was the most I ever got to eat before, and the first few times I ate them all at once. I had learned how to make one soup last for a while, taking a gulp every once in a while. Thanks to the sink I was able to drink as much water as I needed. The stale bread I would leave to soak up any last dredges of soup from the can before consuming. Katrina would come down sometimes and torture me with a silver lined whip through the bars, laughing the whole time and mocking me.
She would remind me how our living situation was my fault. That I hadn't marked off the snacks I'd given her so I couldn't be trusted upstairs. But it wasn’t my fault! The snacks were Katrina’s doing. How I hadn't cleaned up the rugs or couch before she got home. I ran out of time because you brought your friends here! Anything she could find fault with, she blamed me for. The whip would cut deep and the injuries would heal extremely slowly. Why, why, why?
The cell was so small I couldn't get away, and my only defense was to turn my back to her and absorb the pain that way. I asked and begged for an explanation, asked how I could fix what I had done to get us banished. There was no mercy. They did everything they could to keep my wolf from ever appearing. It must have been working. When I could work through the pain in my back, I’d explore my cell. The bed was bolted to the wall and was steadfast- no amount of jumping on it would move it. Next to one of the bed’s bolts was the chain’s beginning links, all held sturdily in place. There was a space under the bed, but it was all hard concrete. No chance of digging. All of the steel bars were sturdy with no chance of getting them loose. I couldn’t pull the sink out of the wall, but under the sink was where the concrete floor ended. Then, it was what felt like varnished wooden flooring. This flooring felt like it went around the toilet only, for some reason, then went back to concrete. I halfheartedly felt around the wood, checking along the sides of the toilet as far as my arms could reach.
Suddenly, and luckily, during one of these investigations I discovered that the floor beneath the toilet pipe was rotted, and I could start trying to dig my way out. The wood bowed under my fingers and bounced back up when I took them off. There was a way out of here after all! Thank the Moon Goddess for a leaky toilet! The collar and chain were keeping me from really going at it, and trying to remove the chain had burned my hands. I couldn't figure out how the chain attached to the collar before having to give up and rinse my hands in the cold water from the sink.
One time, I remember lying on the tiny bed in the cell and just wishing I could die. I couldn’t dig out any more of the rotted wood without more chain length, I couldn't think of how to use the silver chain to kill myself, and I knew starving myself wouldn't be fast enough. If I were dead, I would never have to worry again about any of this and mother and Katrina would be happy.
Don't think like that, little one.
“What choice do I have?” I asked aloud. “I'm so, so tired.”
I know. And I'm so sorry it took so long. But I am here now.
I blinked, processing the words. Then realization dawned on me. “Are you my wolf?”
I am. My name is Cherry. I have a plan to get us out of here, but I need full control to do so. Do you trust me?
“...Can I just... go away for a little while? Sleep?” I asked.
If you want to. I can take care of us for a while.
This was it. My chance. I wasn't going to let anything get in the way.
“Okay, Cherry. Take over,” I sighed. “Let me sleep.”