Werewolf Compilations

Chapter 80

My bedroom is cold and empty feeling though my things clutter the space obnoxiously. I set my back

down at the door and walk in as if this is someone else bedroom and I am an intruder.

My mother isn't home, actually, she doesn't know that I am either. I had never called and told her I was

leaving as I only found out last night. She'll be disappointed, I think. Sad for me. Her daughter was

mated to an Alpha, was taken to his pack, then was sent home for her own good. It makes me sad just

thinking about it.

Having no desire to unpack, I leave my bag set against the wall and walk to the window, gazing out at Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

the forgotten view of the forest, the view I used to stare out at while I cried when I was younger. I don't

want to be here. Not anymore. This has become a sad place now, one where my half-filled soul will rot

and wither away until I die. There is a peer of me that was left at the Grant Pack, and a part that I will

never get back.

Mindlessly, I climb into my cold bed and hide under the covers. Depressed for the life ahead of me.

Depressed over my empty heart and dulled down from the loss of my one, true mate. There will never

be anyone like him, no one to replace his anger and coldness, his good moments where he gives into

me, and the sensation of his lips, a sudden kiss or not. I have never held such hatred towards every

other man before, but I have no interest in them. That is something I have in common with my old self.

No man will ever please me if it is the last thing I do.

My mother's shocked voice wakes me. "Rae? Rae, what are you doing here?"

I slip out of my dreamless sleep and look over to her.

She quickly nears me. "When did you get here? You didn't call to say you were visiting. Are you all

right? What's happened? Did something happen? Is he here, your mate?"

"Not now," I mutter, cold and numb. "I want to be alone."

"Not now?" She gapes as if I had told her I was pregnant. "What do you mean not now? Will you

please tell me what's going on?"

"Please, mom. Go. Please just go."

She crosses her arms. "Tell me what—"

"Leave me alone! Get out! I want to be alone!"

I hear the door shut before I curl back up and wish to return to my blank sleep, not wanting to see or

feel anything.

* * *

It has been a few weeks since I had come home. I painfully explained to my mother why I was back,

telling part of the truth and fabricating the rest. Other than that, my days consist of laying in bed, going

down for food every now and then, staring out the window, crying a little bit, showering just to feel

different sensations, and staring up at my ceiling like a corpse stares at the hood of their coffin.

I open the window during the day to hear new sounds other than the excruciating noises of silence. I

hear birds and occasionally voices, though it is usually my mother talking to another woman in the

pack, or a guard mumbling to himself as he walks by to the borders.

The diary sits on my desk alone, wanting to be read, but I don't want to be reminded of him so soon

because he already takes up my entire mind. There is no reminding needed.

I lay in bed and daydream about our imaginary life together. How it would have been to sleep in the

same bed, to feel him on top of me or underneath me, to feel his skin against mine in the most intimate

of ways. Is it so wrong to want a bad man? I don't think so. It makes the dark part of me want him even

more. I want to feel his body weighing against mine, holding me down, giving me no escape. I want

everything from him. I need him to want me as badly as I want him, but that nagging voice always

reminds me that he is gone. That voice shouts at me to get up and to put away my things and to let go,

but I can't.