Early Birthday Present

Rhiannon

I jolted awake with a start at the sound of my bedroom door screeching open, my heart pounded in my chest as I watched a dark figure, enter my room. The smell of liquor filled the room, pungent, tangy.

Even in the darkness I recognized the figure, the heavy footsteps that has haunted me all these years. It was Talon.

I forced myself to stay still, my muscles coiled tight, as if any sudden movement would draw him closer. My mind raced. There was no place to hide, no place to run, within these walls. I was being held prisoner in this tiny box with him, the only source of illumination was a soft, light emanating from the early morning sun.

With sluggish, unsteady movements, Talon staggered forward, with unfocused eyes, and his mouth curling into a sneer. The effects of alcohol depressed his senses, yet it did not also suppress the dark intent sparkling in his gaze. I knew that look all too well. Today was going to be one of those days.

“I thought I’d find you here, hiding like a little mouse, he slurred, swaying slightly, his hand gripping the doorframe. “You’re always hiding.”

I forced myself to sit up, tightening my grip on the edge of the bed. “Please,” I said softly, though I knew the word was empty to him. It always had been.

“Don’t ‘please’ me,” he sneered, his tone harsh and mocking. He took slow deliberate steps toward me and his eyes moved over me with possessive contempt. “You think you’re too good for me, don’t you, Luna?

His very act of using that title was always poisoned. I prepared myself, for I knew that it was impossible to try to reason with him when in this state.

His perverted view of “dominance” had nothing honorable or admirable about it. He just needed someone to crush beneath him, and I had been his favorite target.

Talon’s face twisted as he lunged for me I felt his rough hands grabbing at my arms, the stench of whiskey filling my nostrils as he tried to pull me closer. I turned and jerked, fighting against his grip, every instinct screaming to run.

“Let me go!” I demanded, but he only chuckled, tightening his hold.

I clawed at his hands, struggling as he tried to overpower me. I wasn’t strong enough to fully break free, but I would fight. I would fight with everything left in me, even if I was beyond exhausted, even if it was futile.

“Stop resisting,” he growled, his grip bruising as he shoved me back down. His other hand rose, striking my face hard enough to make my vision blur.

But I bit down hard on my lip, holding back the scream that wanted to tear through me. I knew he craved my pain, my reactions.

He fed off of it, growing more violent with every whimper he managed to draw from me. So I refused him that satisfaction. I stayed silent, my jaw set, my eyes defiant.

“You think you’re strong, don’t you?” he sneered, his fist connecting with my side. Pain shot out from my ribs, piercing, hot with the bite of a knife, but I bit my tongue, clenched my jaw so tight I thought my teeth would break.

This wasn’t the first time, and I knew it wouldn’t be the last. Five years. Five years of enduring this, of standing back up no matter how many times he beat me down.

But today…today was different. I was completely drained, my soul empty, and my body aching with fatigue that ran deeper than sleep could cure. I was tired of fighting him, tired of existing in this constant cycle of fear and pain.

I wanted it to end. I wanted an escape, even if it meant letting go entirely. Maybe if I stopped fighting, he’d finally go too far. Maybe I could find some peace in whatever lay beyond.

Another blow struck my shoulder, then my ribs, each hit numbing the pain until it felt distant, detached. My body was just a vessel, and I floated somewhere above it, barely registering the brutality that rained down upon me.

I wanted it to be over, the ache inside me so deep that I barely felt his hands anymore, barely heard his drunken threats.

Then, finally, mercifully, darkness closed in. I just let it guide me, just let it sweep me off into a place far from him, from here.

When I woke up, I was disoriented, my mind was fuzzy, and my body sluggish. Pain came in dull surges, a pulsating misery that went right through me. I struggled to open my eyes, my vision blurred, one eyelid swollen almost completely shut.

My head throbbed as I pushed myself up slowly, every movement a struggle. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? The view outside was still easy enough to see, if not the direct silhouette of the sun peeking out from the window, then at least the soft light emanating from the window gave the impression it was day.

I rose unsteadily to my feet, my knees buckling beneath me as I stumbled toward the window. I stood against the wall and observed the street beyond the window from glass. The sun was low, casting a weak light over the courtyard, but there was something about its light that felt awry.

I couldn’t have been out for just a few hours. The light seemed…different, somehow. And then, a sinking feeling settled in my gut.

I reached for my bedside clock and glanced at the time. It was 6:00 am, I furrowed my eyebrows, that couldn’t be right. My eyes shifted to the calendar hanging on the wall adjacent to my bed and bile rose up in my throat.

I’d been unconscious for days, two full days. Tomorrow was the 9th, my birthday. A bitter chuckle rose in my throat. Talon had given me an early birthday present, one that had nearly killed me.

A fresh wave of anger surged within me. How could he still have this hold over me? How had I become so broken, so resigned to this?

A part of me wanted to scream, to curse him, to cry out for everything I had lost. But I knew it would do no good.

Instead, I forced myself to stand, wincing at the bruises that covered my arms and legs, the cuts that stung as I moved.

I couldn’t stay here, couldn’t allow myself to suffer in misery. I had work to do, duties to attend to, darn it, even if every fiber of my being wept in agony.

I dressed slowly, slipping into the plain clothes that were required of me, clothes that marked me as one of Talon’s lesser servants despite my supposed “status” as his Luna. I straightened, wiping away the blood that had dried on my face, hiding the bruises as best as I could with my hair.

When I stepped out of my room, the hall was quiet, but I felt the familiar stares, the judging eyes of the pack members who whispered behind my back.

“There she is, the Luna who thinks she’s so important,” someone murmured.

“Looks like she’s had another run-in with the Alpha,” another voice sneered, a mocking laugh following the words.

I ignored them, letting their voices fade as I moved down the hall and into the kitchen. My hands found familiar tasks, the scrubbing, the washing, the cleaning. Each chore distracted me from the pain, grounding me in the routine I had come to depend on, however hollow it felt.

With every passing hour, I realized how heavy the weight tomorrow felt on my shoulders, threatening to descend on like a dark cloud.

My birthday.

Another year stuck in this life, another year without escape, no end in sight. For the first time, I experienced a tingle of something I have never dared to experience for a long time, hope.

Hope that, maybe just maybe, there was something more on the other side. Hope that somewhere, somehow, there was a way out.

The feeling was weak, fragile even but it was there, like a distant light that stubbornly refused to be extinguished.

I kept my head down, avoiding Talon’s gaze whenever he passed by, hoping he would ignore me, let me have just one day of peace before he inevitably dragged me back into his world of pain and torture.

As the sun set, casting long shadows across the pack grounds, I finished my work and retreated to the comforts of my room, my body exhausted, my heart heavy.

I sat perched on the edge of the bed, eyes fixed on the walls, my thoughts crammed with the remnants of a life I once dreamt of, a life at which now felt lost and unattainable.

Then, as the last sliver of sun disappeared, I murmured a low prayer. Not for rescue, not for salvation, but for strength. Strength to withstand, strength to overcome, strength to maintain that flicker of purpose, that tiny spark of hope.

Tomorrow would come and so would the shackles that held me prisoner to Talon. However, tonight, in the peace and isolation of my own room, I dared myself to imagine that maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to break free.