Blood Wolf

14: You. Are. Worth. Everything.

“Dallas, are you ok?”

He asked. His tone full of concern and worry. I pushed back the crack that threatened to break my wall at the thought of him caring so much about me.

“I’m fine.”

I said as I made my way into his office, taking a seat in the small couch he had just to the left of his desk.

“Did you tell Tristian you decided to stay?”

I narrowed my eyes at the hopefulness in his voice.

“No. There are things you need to know about me before I tell him.”

My cold and detached tone making him frown. I knew he wanted to comment on it and was truly thankful when he didn’t. Though he did ask a question.

“What do you mean? I already told you, I want you to stay. I don’t care what you tell me, I will not change my mind.”

“We’ll see. Please don’t interrupt me, I want to get this over with quickly.”

I waited until he nodded in agreement before I continued. Drawing in a large breath and double checking my mental wall. I could feel my weaker, emotional self, lock herself away. Away from the memories and pain she suffered before the dead killer came and sheltered her. That part of myself had endured a lot, just waiting, biding her time to get her revenge. The wicked, stronger part of me grinned at the thought.

“My mother died giving birth to me. She was attacked by a wild animal and went into early labor. She didn’t have any family, I don’t know who my father is; no one did. So I went into foster care.

At two and a half I was adopted by a couple, the woman –from what I can remember- was nice. She took care of me well. When I was four she got sick and passed within the year. Her husband hated me. He only adopted me to make her happy.

When she died, he drank all the time. I learned to take care of myself, by the time I was six I was taking care of both of us. Cooking –microwaving dinners- cleaning, and making sure the waste bin was always within arms’ reach for when he got too trashed to make it to the toilet.”

Ryker’s POV:

I watched her, just listening to her as she stared off. The glazed look in her eyes that was there earlier. It worried me, she had just went hallow, dead inside almost. I wanted nothing more than to go over to her and wrap her in my arms but I told her I wouldn’t interrupt.

“When I was seven I was heating his dinner when he came home, drunk. The door slamming startled me and I dropped the plate I was carrying, breaking it. He didn’t say anything, just came over to me and looked down at me.

That was the first time he hit me. I screamed when I fell to the floor, holding my cheek as I tried to swallow the blood. He laughed and pulled me up, hitting me again. I guess he liked the feeling.

After that he’d find any reason to hit me, I figure that out pretty quickly so I made sure to be extra good. To be perfect for him. He realized what I was doing and from then on he didn’t need a reason.

I was nine when he broke a few of my ribs. He couldn’t hit me for a few weeks and that pissed him off. One day he came home and taped up my sides, then my wrist.”

Both my wolf and I struggled to let her finish. The rage that was building inside me was so great I wasn’t even sure how I hadn’t shifted yet. I wanted to tear him limb from limb, keep him alive while he watched us feed from him. Watch the light in his eyes dim as we inflicted as much pain on him as we could.