(22) Guilt

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EDITED

Morning followed in a groggy manner, and a stale set of clothes. The ends of my long hair still weren't dry from the shower many hours ago. I barely slept, tossing and turning. My skin froze like ice, and shook like willow trees. The mattress was rock hard, but with my exhaustion I could fall asleep underwater for that matter. The presence of Black and his unsettling skin tore horrible dreams through my slumber. Scars slashed from his skin to mine, each nightmare a terrible explanation to how he bore such markings. Skin shed like flakes from a snake along my lips, my eyelids puffed from the night terrors that made me cry.

Black sat as still now as he did then, bones protruding through the oily and scarce fur. His head was thick, one ear stitched lower than the other. His golden eyes could be seen through the slits in his slumber, and his chest rose barely at all. It fell with longer spans than his inhale. I spent most of my time staring down his shifter, mind too spooked and unwilling to fall back into the unsafe, scary dream world again.

Knock knock knock.

This was the second time someone had pounded on the door, hence my wake up, but still Black didn't move.

"Alpha Black? Noire?" Cassandria.

I recognized her strong voice, and moved to the edge of the bed since I couldn't really do anything. "Black, I think—" My throat burned like sandpaper.

The door started to shove open, Black's near death body only budging for it to shove open a foot.

"Black, you big lug." Cassandria gives no respect or privacy as she forces her way in through the slot, Black barely sparing a growl or glance.

She huffs as she steps in— human strength, and I press the stained and scratchy bed sheet closer to my chest for the small amount of warmth it can offer. With my free hand I wipe my eyes as Cassandria bodies her way in further, carrying a large basket. Black's body jostles, and his halo colored eyes illuminate with the fire from hell. Any other shifter I would scram faster than a gazelle from a wolf, but this had always been the colour of Black's orbs.

In the crack before it closes, a beautiful day is beyond the door. I can hear the birds of the morning and almost feel, with a desperate desire, the warmth of the sun's rays. It shuts, and like the birds being cut off, Cassandria too falls quiet at the sight of me. I knew it wasn't good. I meant it when I said I looked better at seventeen with my mates blood on my hands than I ever would again.

My eyes, without needing to gaze upon my reflection, were glassy and red. Dark purple bags would surface beneath them, casting hollow and pale tones to my flesh. I felt sick at all times, but my stomach was empty and I knew there was no baby. I hugged the sheet tighter to my chest, in a shiver of raven hair and toes too afraid to touch the same ground as the beast.

"Black, get up." Cassandria tosses a nudge to Black's shoulder before proceeding towards me, and setting her woven basket next to me on the bed. "I brought you two some food, some things you'll need for your stay."

I didn't move. I sat still with drooping eyes and a Hayward mind. Cassandria's hair was let down in her natural honey brown tresses, and she still wore the awful, worn down brown cover up, but underneath she had changed into a forest green turtle neck like her eyes, and heavy denim blue jeans. Those too, matched the bruising next to her eyes. Her busted lip had scabbed over, but her veins were still bloodshot and dying beneath her glazed skin. As a human leader of feral shifters, she looked much better than whatever I can even consider myself now. Widowed mate? Kidnapped Luna? More like a failure, a cheating, lying, whore of a Luna. And guess what? Another shifter stakes his claim on me. This time, though, I refuse. I'm done. I've given my time to seven men for nine years. I've given a child, almost two. I've lived as much as I could before this bastard came barreling down, and wiped everything out from under me. I started to see blurry images again.

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