The Raven and The Broken Wolf (WenClair)

Chapter 1

 Enid Sinclair POV:

"Mom, I'm sorry. Please don't-" I scream as my mother beats me harder than before, cutting my shoulder open with her sharp claws as I try apologizing for talking back. She punches me in the nose until it is squashed in and then grabs my arm with a malicious grin. I shake my head no trying to get out of her grasp and run but she is too strong. She begins to push on the bone upward while twisting. I scream as I feel it cracking the sound loud in my head and it breaks. She lets go and it drops down in a weird way it should be in. She finally gets off of me after breaking my arm and nose.

"You are a no good useless little girl. Not even able to wolf-out." She says in a rage. "Boy's get in here and help your sister make sure she can't move for a little while she needs her punishment." Mother yells to my brothers. I can barely breath, my eyes are swollen and I can't speak. My voice went from screaming out in pain. I continue to cry as my mother stomps on my leg and then leaves the room. My brothers come in grinning with evil intent. All are half shifted. I try to scream out but nothing comes out.

They begin to take turns using me as a personal punching bag. They beat me with their immense strength and sliced open many parts of my body. My left shoulder bone is exposed bleeding profusely. My sides ripped to shreds and ribs broken. My lungs feel as though they may burst, and all they do is laugh and joke around as they continue to beat me. Going on for hours at a time I heal ever so slightly, but they just redo the injuring and breaking. I can't even cry anymore. I just let them do as they will until they get tired. After a little while they all get tired and leave. I take a deep breath, my whole body bruised and broken. I am able to move slightly to sit up against my bed and grab my phone, my chest feels as though it is going to sink in on itself.

My blood puddling onto the floor, warm and hot the intense smell of copper engulfs the room. My arms and body are shaking as it is trying to heal itself. I nearly drop my phone.

I try to find someone to call the first contact that shows up on my phone. Wednesday. I call and listen to the repetitive rings as my vision and consciousness begin fading. After the sixth ring she answers surprisingly,

"Hello Enid?" She asks confused and groggy. "Help me." I barely get out my voice horse and a squeaky whisper is all that was able to come out and then I pass out.

A Couple Hours Later.

I wake up, my body burning in pain. I sit up my muscles aching and shaking and I stand. My bones are healed and the slashes are mostly closed but the bigger ones still open the blood still spilling out. How am I still alive? Why am I still alive? I think as I sit down on my bed covered in my own blood. The floor is stained red.

My phone is still in hand. I look at who I last called. My memory is mostly gone after my brothers left. I look at my recent calls and Wednesday was the first call that was only 2 minutes long.
"No no no. I'm actually dead. Mother is going to kill me if she finds out that someone knows what has happened." I silently panic, my voice slightly coming back, but still quiet.

I call Wednesday back. She answers immediately.

"Enid. Pack a bag now grab everything you can. I'll be outside your window in 5 minutes." Wednesday says in a calm rage.

"Wait. What?" I say as loud as I can before my voice cracks.

"I'm coming. I'm taking you back to my house, you'll be safe I promise." She says.

"My mother will kill me. She will find me and kill me.Wednesday go home I'm okay." I say tears welling up in my eyes.
"No start packing. I'm almost there." She says and hangs up. I stand up and nearly fall over, I grab my backpack and grab as many things as I can and shove them in. I grab my favorite Unicorn plush, my phone and its charger. I grab my laptop. Some clothes and my pocket knife my father gave me for my 16th birthday. I push my dresser against my door as quietly as I can. I sit on my bed and wait for Wednesday to show up.