Chapter 3
Willow
Gas hisses out of the vents above me. Even before the sting pierces my sensitive nose, I know it’s poison. Cloying and sickly sweet.
Panicking, I jerk my burning wrists, uselessly trying to get myself free, but my struggles are useless and the cuffs won’t budge.
I lie here, more powerless than I’ve ever been, and watch as the gas thickens into a toxic cloud.
My lungs burn as I hold my breath… for as long as I can…
until I gasp helplessly, breathing all that poison in…
the holes in my vision grow wider and wider…
until once again the darkness pulls me under.
My eyelids are so heavy, for a moment I worry they are glued shut. All I know is that my head is pounding and I feel as if I am emerging from a dense fog. The only thing I am sure of is the gut feeling nagging me that something is very wrong.
What had they done to me while I was unconscious?
Everything hurts. But now, alongside the burning pain of the silver at my wrists, is a searing hot flame across my lower belly. I arch my neck and peer down at myself, leaning as far as the handcuffs will allow. I wish I could just reach down and feel the area.
There is a long surgical cut across my lower belly. The skin is being held together with large surgical staples, and the surrounding skin looks raw and swollen—they must be coated in silver. The humans often make their medical supplies with silver to prevent infection.
Too bad the metal is toxic enough to my wolf that it prevents me from healing on my own.
It’s not as if I am a stranger to pain. I’ve endured a lot, and I know I will survive this as well…
But ever since I’ve had my wolf, I have come to rely on her strength.
Drawing on her accelerated healing and ferocity.
Now, with the silver burning into me, I am left completely defenseless—so helpless and vulnerable, handcuffed here.
I feel like I’m not even a shifter anymore.
The humans who are doing this to me are all gone. I can tell by their faint but lingering scents; they must have gone home for the night. I am under no illusions about who is doing all of this, despite their efforts to stay out of sight.
I don’t know why they seem to hate me so much. I still haven't seen any of their faces; they only seem to come in to poke and prod me when I’m in a chemical sleep.
I’d heard rumors that the humans were curious about our ability to change forms and to heal… but to the point where they feel that my life should pay the price to satisfy their curiosity? They must have also learned about our extended lifespan and want to take it for themselves.
My wrists are numb to the pain now; the nerves must be burned out of them. I’m growing used to the tubes that the humans shove into my body when I am unconscious—tubes that control when I wake and sleep, tubes that feed me poison. Every time I wake up in here, I have new pain.
Every day is the same here, waking up alone with the same thoughts running through my head. How I am trapped here in pain and there is nothing that can be done about it. The only person in the world who would know to look for me is probably the one who handed me over.
They don’t even let me see my wolf.
I’d never been this alone in my entire life.
The only thing I have to mark the time is each new mark on my body, the new pains that come with each waking. The constant pain of my wrist until it numbs out.
Today, it’s a pain in my stomach… like a burning line across my lower abdomen.
There is nothing I could do except guess at all the twisted things they have done to my body… to guess if I will ever leave this place.
I can’t do a damn thing about it.
I’ve been abandoned by my only family. By my pack.
There is no one coming for me.