Untitled Draft #1

WIP - Extract #1

Kind of a spoiler from my upcoming novel. I haven't decided on the full plotline yet, so I've started writing out each character's backstory. I had a sudden outburst of inspiration for one of them, even thought it's supposed to be *the* character's backstory that's revealed last. It might change, I might add some details later on anyways, but, well... Here you go :3 !
English isn't my first language so be nice, I take every bit of constructive criticism :) !

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I felt it before the rescue party entered the gates. A tug between my ribcages. My heart swelled and started to race, right as the gates opened. I never ran that fast in my entire life. It was like I was pulled by something, someone. I didn't stop until I arrived in front of the entrance, looking at each faces that passed the gate, heart pounding. I wasn't sure what I was exactly looking for, until a strand of dark, red, curly hair appeared. It was a woman, around six or seven hundred years old. She was skinny, pale and seemed to be walking with great difficulty, since she was half leaning on another woman's shoulder. My eyes opened wide, and I felt a tear run down my cheek as my mouth uttered a single word :

- Mom.

Her gaze fell on me. For a quick second, our eyes locked and I felt a shy smile creeping on my lips, thinking that finally, this was the moment I would know what it felt like to be embraced by a mother. To be loved unconditionally and to have someone to call home.

I was about to take a step when something icy curled in my stomach, making me queasy. I frowned and blinked, and that's the moment my brain registered my mother's face. She looked pale, ready to throw up and her hollow eyes shined with pure horror. I was about to ask what was wrong, but I never had the time.

- What is this doing here ?, she whispered, disgust and a hint of cold anger brewing in her tone.

Everyone froze, smiles dropping and eyes turning to look at me like I suddenly grew a second head.

- I said : what is this doing here? She repeated, shifting from shock and horror to full fury in less than a second.

- What do you mean? Inquired Leta, concern dripping from her soft tone, looking right at me with worry.

My mother laughed. I imagined the sound of her laugh for a hundred years, wondering if it would be gentle and kind, like Leta's, or if it would be frank and honest, like mine. Sometimes, I dreamed of it, creating all sorts of sounds in my mind, trying to feel which one I would love the most. But never, in that hundreds of years, did I imagine the cold, bitter and sickening sound that she just made.

- What do I mean? What do I mean? Aren't you a fox clan? Tell me then, since when are fox clans picking up anyone's garbage? She spitted, looking at Leta with thunder in her eyes.

- Are you talking about Robin? She's been a part of our clan for a hundred years, she's not "anyone's garbage". We did find her crying outside in the snow and raised her as our own. She's as much as a fox as you and me, and I don't like you insinuating otherwise, frowned Leta, with barely an ounce of anger.

My mother looked at her with wide eyes and a distorted mouth, like she was utterly disgusted by what she had just heard. I blinked hard, unable to process the conversation happening in front of me. It was like a shard of ice lodged itself in my heart and had started chilling my veins, slowly going towards my shattering heart.

- For a hundred years? A hundred years?

She was repeating that number as if it would suddenly make sense to her, while everyone around us locked their gaze on me. Waiting for me to react, to speak, to soothe this trembling and hysteric woman that I had just minutes prior called "mom". But I never had the chance. She stilled and barked out another laugh, making me take a step back, because this time, her cold, dead gaze was fixed on me.

- This piece of trash that you kept around for a hundred years is not a fox. You all spent a hundred years around it and never picked it up? Are all of yours noses broken? Or did this thing bewitch you to care about it? This little thing you "raised" was made in a lab. At best, that, she barked, pointing at me, is a failed experiment that I had to carry and give birth to. I made the mistake of loving a wizard once, and when I woke up, this thing was crying in a pool of my blood. I left it in the snow to die, like it was always supposed to. And I paid the price for it, since that hellhound of a wizard came back for its experiment and wiped out my clan when I told him it was no more. And then, he proceeded to torture me for a hundred years to "punish" me for killing his precious toy, as if unwillingly giving birth to that wasn't enough. And you want to call that a fox? A part of your clan? You want to make of that a part of the fox community? I guess you're not better than that wizard, she finished, a lopsided smile on her face.

Not a fox. A failed experiment. A toy. Those words echoed in my brain, dancing in front of my unfocused eyes. There was so much happening at once. The sound of my shattered heart finally reached my ears, alerting my brain who, at once, opened the gates of pain. In a split second, it felt like my entire body was engulfed in flames, forcing my mouth to open as to try to take a breather, failing. My body took a shacky step back before giving up and falling to the cold, hard ground. A hand reached out, desperately trying to grasp something to keep me steady. I kept on panting, curled in a ball on the ground for what felt like hours, before finally taking a long, painful gasp of air. I looked up, hoping to see a familiar face peaking through the tears blurring my vision, only to be met with the sight of the all-to-familiar steel gates. They all left. Of course. Who would want to be around a failed experimental toy? I closed my eyes. I felt hollow. At that moment, I was sure that if I tried to find a pulse, I wouldn't be able to. A trembling hand shot up to wipe away the tears, but I blacked out before it reached my eyes.

I wake up shivering, cold, freezing snow melting on my thin clothing. Vision still blurry, I try getting up, but my wobbly legs give out, knees hitting a small rock in the fall. I closed my fists, waiting for a shot of pain that never came. I snort. Of course, how could an experiment feel pain? It can't. It can't feel anything. One of my fist make contact with the ground, and again, and again. I can't stop punching, not even when my skin breaks. Blood trickling down my closed fist, I let my hand fall back at my side. I started to laugh, like it was ripped out me. This time, it's not pretty, honest or kind. It's broken and empty. My injured hand jerked and I turned my head, brows furrowing. There, right next to me, half-covered by snow, lay my blades. My first gift, especially made for my hundredth birthday. The gift that symbolizes the acceptance of a fox into a clan. A soiled gift, left there to mock me, to remind me that I would never be a real fox. Because I was never one to begin with. I'm nothing.

Overtaken by rage, I take both one blade in hand, the other hand reaching behind me to yank at one of my tail. Without hesitation, and with the words of my genitor yelling in my mind, I slash the tail and watch it fall to the ground. I breathe hard, contemplating with a deranged satisfaction the bloody tail on the ground, ignoring the shattering cries of my soul. I raise my blade again, watch a drop of blood fall from the tip, and keep slashing. I scream, both in rage and in pain, before the blade slip out of my grasp and join the nine blood-covered tails on the ground. I let myself collapse on the ground again, not really sure when I got up in the first place and laughed uncontrollably, body spasming with each laughter. My eye can't tear themselves apart from the nine bloody tails in front of me, even when my body give every sign of distress, life slipping out of me by each passing second.
I won't be a failed experiment anymore. You can't be a failed experiment if you succeed in dying, right ?