His Broken Mate

Chapter 7

Damn, you guys seriously want me to update more! :D Yay, thank you! Also, thank you guys SO much for getting this book to #987 in Werewolf! Also, there's a pic of Elaina's locket!

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Elaina's POV

I leave Cindy behind shocked and walk back to Xavier. I poke his arm lightly to get his attention, which is immediately on me. "Um, where's my stuff?" I ask. I'm gonna need it when I leave, and I want to change out of these exposing pajamas. I mean, most of my scars, cuts, and bruises are covered, but there's plenty scattered all over my pale arms and skinny legs.

Xavier looks delighted at me talking, and says, "Follow me." he leads me down various hallways and up several flights of stairs as I just look around at everything. This place is huge. I don't know how I'll be able to find my way out of here.

I'm so concentrated on trying to remember the path that I almost bump into Xavier when he stops in front of our -his- bedroom to open the door. I follow him inside and sit on the bed as he goes into the walk-in closet to presumably get my stuff. He comes back out with a duffel bag that he hands to me. "All of your belongings are in there. I hope you don't mind me bringing them with us when you left your old pack."

I don't know what comes over me, but a bit of my old sassy self slips through my walls for a few seconds. "Yeah, well I didn't really have a choice."

Xavier scratches the back of his neck, embarrassed. "Yeah, sorry about that, but at least now you're safe." I don't respond. I start rummaging through the duffel bag and pull out an outfit I can wear today. "We can go shopping tomorrow for more clothes for you."

I just nod with a half smile before walking past him and into the bathroom to get changed. I get out of the tight yellow shirt and black shorts and just observe my battered body in the mirror. Despite my disgustingly obvious malnourishment, I have decent curves. But being starved honestly makes me look like a skeleton. I was naturally on the skinnier side, so now I'm pretty much just skin and bones. I hate it.

I read some of the insults that have been carved into me like tattoos of blood and pain. Whore, bitch, mistake, the list goes on. Sadly, the scars haven't faded at all. I'm worried they'll stay there forever.

I shake the thought from my head and pull on a light blue tee shirt and some black running shorts. I tug on my socks and converse, which ended up in the bag. I comb my hair and put on some deodorant and chap stick. I also carefully put on my locket, opening up the little heart-shaped pendant to see a picture of my family, all together and smiling.

It was taken over a decade ago, on my fifth birthday. My tears up when I see little me with a gap toothed smile. I was sitting on my mom's lap, and that actually does make me shed a few tears. I miss her so much.

I wipe my tears quickly and step out of the bathroom. Surprisingly, Xavier is waiting for me, and he looks concerned when he spots a lingering tear on my cheek. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

I don't answer, so he takes a few steps closer to me. "Can- can I hug you?" he asks. His question makes memories flood into my mind.

I remember the first time someone bullied me badly. I ran to my older brother, trusting him to comfort me. I hugged him tightly, but instead of patting my head, or calming me down, or just letting me cry on his chest, he wrapped his arms around me. He sounds nice, right? Wrong. He was holding a knife in his right hand, and he plunged it into my side, barely missing my lungs.

He left it in as I screamed and fell, with nothing but hate in his eyes. "It's your fault."

Xavier slowly wraps his arms around me, snapping me out of my thoughts. Xavier's not like Marc. My memories make me vulnerable. They make me weak.

I stand there numbly as Xavier hugs me until I slowly raise my arms and return it. Memories break through the dam and taint my mind. Memories of Dad, of Marc, of countless pack members torturing me, laughing at me, doing terrible things to me, and I start crying. But worse than all of these memories put together by far are the memories that make my heart hurt. Memories of my mom.

My tears go from a drizzle to a downpour, and soon enough I'm bawling for what seems like hours, clinging to Xavier like my life depends on it. In fact, I barely notice when he picks me up and carries me over to the couch, where he sits me down on his lap. Eventually I stop crying, and I just sit there, leaning against his soaked shirt.

I can't ignore the sparks, but I can certainly try. I remember how so many pack members were really nice and trustworthy. At first. But they all betrayed my trust and hurt me. I know Xavier will do the same. I've made a mistake. I've shown him my vulnerable side. I can't do it ever again or he'll use it against me.

I quickly pull back and look at his wet shirt. "Sorry," I mumble. I used to get punished for crying. Should I really expect anything different? My old pack members sometimes let me cry on them, or talk to them, before attacking me again with words and violence, crushing what little hope and trust I had over and over again.

"Hey, it's okay," he whispers to me, stroking my cheek, apparently not noticing my slight flinches. "It's just a shirt." It was never just a shirt or just a spill or just an anything to my old pack. I got punished for everything. I've never known anything other than cruelty and punishment. How could Xavier possibly understand.

I'm not saying he's had everything handed to him, or that he's never been through anything bad, but he couldn't even imagine the shit I've been through. How can he expect me to trust him? How can he expect me to love him when all I've felt for the past ten years is fear, anger, and sadness? I remember the first few times I was abused or insulted, I would get angry. I was so confused as to why they were doing it to me. I was sad and lost, with a newly obtained hole in my heart.

My mother had just died. She was killed by rogues while she was out running errands. I was blamed because she was out buying things for my upcoming birthday. Yeah, my sixth birthday. A five year old was blamed for her mother's death. I wasn't even allowed to go to the funeral. My dad said I would ruin the peace if the killer showed up to mourn the killed. I really did believe it was my fault for a long time, but of course that's bullshit. It was the rogue's fault. One specific rogue. I'll never forget his name. Gabriel Bloodmoon. I hope the bastard's dead. "What-what time is it?" I ask.

"It's three in the afternoon," he replies, and I start blushing. I've been crying literally for hours. He really sat with me for all that time? "Now, I need to go to a meeting with my beta, but when I get back, we can have dinner, okay?"

I nod, inwardly beaming. If he's not gonna be back until dinnertime, I might be able to leave sooner than tonight! He leaves the room, and I rush over to my bag. I make sure everything's in there, and thankfully there's plenty of room in the bag. I sneak down to the kitchen with my bag, and I sigh in relief when I see that it's empty. I scoop up a dozen water bottles, a couple boxes of granola bars, and half a dozen apples. That should last me a while. I've got my shoes on, I've got my stuff, I can leave.

I can finally leave.

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CLIFFHANGER! I know, I'm evil. Don't worry, I'll post the next chapter soon, I just wanted to torture you guys for a bit ;)

Thanks so much for reading! Vote, comment, follow, do whatever your little heart desires, :)

Or you could yell at me in the comments for dragging out Elaina leaving so long >:) You guys are so awesome! BAIIIIIIIIII!

~MysticWillows