Forever Luna

Imperfect

adjective ~ not perfect; having faults

CALIDA

I can't believe Dumbledore dies.

Like, what the fuck?

How dare they kill Dumbledore!

Like, what next? Hagrid? Ronald?

May as well just keep piling them on.

I loaded the next movie with a vengeance, but then Charlie announced he had to answer the door. He was full of surprises today, and as he wheeled in a dinner service, I rose to my feet with surprise. I quickly paused the movie, walking over to him.

"What's this?"

"The tools I will use to harvest your organs." He shrugged.

I laughed softly and sat in the chair he pulled out. I relaxed quietly as he lit some more candles and placed them on the table, even going as far to produce a small vase of red roses. He was acting the part of a waiter, and I couldn't help laugh as he moved.

He served the main course; chicken breast, baby potatoes, a rich gravy and vegetables. A hearty portion of wine filled my glass, and soon my stomach, as we spoke about everything. From the weather, to how the infants would run around at Christmas time, conversation never fell short.

But then, he said something that made me feel like I needed to speak. I had to get something off my chest. I needed him to understand me. He deserved to know what plagued my mind after setting up a goddamn fort for me with my favourite candles and movies.

"Thank you for doing all of this. I've never had anything like this before." I admitted.

He cocked his head. "You don't have to thank me."

"I do." I shook my head. "You deserve to know how much this means to me."

He smiled, reaching across to squeeze my hand. "Anything for you."

Shit, fuck.

I have to tell him. I fear it may swallow me whole.

"When... When I was fifteen years old, my parents led me on a walk through the forest. There, they drugged me, unknowingly, and abandoned me beneath a large tree that was supposed to help me." I began. "When I woke, I did not know where I was. Maxwell was the first to greet me, claiming that I was his mate now, and I had to do what I said. I was fifteen years old, abandoned by my family, lost by my friends, let down by my alpha..."

"Maxwell was not a nice mate. He hurt me, touched me, used me... in every way I didn't want." I grimaced. "He was rough on the edges, worse when drunk, and controlled the women and the wolves with an iron fist. Nobody could touch me but him, and I became grateful for that. But I was so controlled and angry. One day, I stepped up to him, freshly eighteen. I had counted down the days to where I could be stronger. I thought that my anger may bring my wolf back, because I thought they drugged me like all the girls he captured... But it got me no-where. After that, I could barely leave his cabin. I spent years stuck in that tiny house, forced to make it a home. I was just glad I didn't carry any children."

"Calida..."

I shook my head, knowing he was going to shoot me down. "When Nova came, there was an uproar. For years I had watched them hunt women, watched them drunkenly abuse and rape them, watched them drag away the dead bodies of the young girls who didn't deserve it. I watched them torture them through the fogged window of my kitchen. These young girls lost their lights."

"It's not your fault."

"I know it's not." Frowning, I agreed. "I couldn't do anything to help them, I know that. But then Nova ran away, and they got scared. The witch did not help them. Everything went onto lockdown, and then the fight happened, and... I was unconscious. I went to run the moment he left the door unlocked. The first person I saw was Sean in the trees, and he was terrifying. But even he couldn't get to me on time, because somebody stabbed me with a needle, and they dragged me back inside. I woke to a nurse hovering over me. And now here I am, sitting across the table with my soul mate, realising I am not a wolf, but a human, and a sick one at that."