Forbidden Pleasures

Taken

WHEN THE WORLD SAYS, "GIVE UP",
HOPE WHISPERS, "TRY IT ONE MORE TIME".

-unknown

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ℂ𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝟡

𝕋𝕒𝕜𝕖𝕟

Being unaware is such a blissful feeling. Especially when you're blanketed in the comforting darkness of sleep.

But not when your eyes feel so heavy and hot that it might just burn off, and every single part of your body aches incessantly and painfully.

The first thing I felt was the hard cold ground beneath me and the stench of urine and sweat.

Where's Eleanor?

I shot up and gagged at the horrible overwhelming smell. My head was beating faster than a hummingbird's wings at this point.

As I looked around, I noticed I was in a surprisingly large, but dingy cell with cement floors and a heavily dripping ceiling. Three of its walls were covered in red brick coated with fungus, while the fourth side was just a huge door made of iron rods placed a few centimeters away from each other.

A cold draft from the dark hallway after the door, made me shiver uncontrollably and realize that I still wasn't clothed.

And I was in a pack.

I bit my lip when I felt the oncoming tears, as I remembered all the horror stories that Zaire had told me, about the werewolves; wars, Alphas killing each other, forced matings, torture, the suffering of the Omegas.

My heartbeat accelerated as I noticed Eleanor wasn't in the cell with me. Panic crawled it's way up into my heart and I shakingly stood up and stumbled my way to the iron door.

Clutching the ice cold iron bars with my bloody hands, I gazed into the endless darkness of the hallway in front of me.

No matter how hard I squinted, I couldn't even see the faintest glimmer of a light or heat, even the smallest of footsteps.

It was so silent. And dark. Except for the torchlight in the corner of my cell emanating a dull glow, that lost the battle against the darkness.

It reminded me of the time when Zaire put me in the isolation chamber where I had to stay for a week. Let's just say I wasn't me when I got out of there. All I remember is being curled up in the lonely cell I was in, and crying my eyes out. I recalled someone had entered the cell after what felt like a month, and had scooped me into their arms and shushed me as I cried all the way back to the agency.

I was eight when that happened. All because I gave my food to one of the scrawny and desperately hungry helpers that served me my breakfast that day.

Was I back at the agency? They surely wouldn't give as lame a punishment as isolation.

If anyone tried to escape the agency, they were hanged. I've seen it happen with my own eyes. It happened to my first and only best friend, Quinn.