The Dying Light Within
1117 Words
Finally, the beating stopped, and I lay there on the cold, hard floor, my body shaking with pain and fear. I could hear Lila’s voice, cold and mocking. “Take her to the dungeons. Let her rot there until she learns her place.”
Strong hands grabbed me, dragging me down the dark, winding corridors. I was too weak to fight, too broken to resist. They threw me into the cold, damp cell, the door slamming shut behind me.
I lay there in the darkness, my body bruised and battered, my heart shattered. How could they believe I would steal? How could Kaden let this happen?
But deep down, I knew the truth. Lila had framed me. She had planted the bracelet in my room, knowing no one would believe me. Knowing that Kaden’s hatred for me was strong enough to blind him to the truth.
A broken sob escaped my lips as I curled up on the cold stone floor, my body trembling with pain and grief. No one would come to save me. No one would believe me....
I was completely and utterly alone....
Days blurred together after they dragged me out of the dungeons. My body was broken, bruises covering my skin, my ribs aching with every breath. But they didn’t let me rest. Mira made sure of that.
“You think you can just lay around because you got a few scratches?” she sneered, kicking my leg as I struggled to stand. “You’re a slave. You don’t get days off.”
I bit back a cry of pain, forcing myself to get up. My body screamed in protest, my vision swimming as I swayed on my feet. But I couldn’t fall. If I did, she would beat me again.
“Get to the kitchen. There are dishes to wash,” Mira ordered, her voice cold and merciless. “And if I see even a speck of dirt, you’ll be back in the dungeons.”
I stumbled to the kitchen, my body trembling with pain and exhaustion. My hands were swollen and bruised, my fingers aching as I scrubbed the dirty pots and pans. The other maids watched me with disgust, whispering and laughing as they passed by.
“She deserves it,” one of them muttered, her voice dripping with disdain. “Stealing from the Luna. What a filthy rat.”
Another one sneered, “I heard she’s cursed. That’s why her wolf is so weak. No wonder the Alpha rejected her.”
I kept my head down, my shoulders hunched as their words cut through me like knives. I wanted to scream, to shout that I was innocent. That Lila had framed me.
But no one would believe me. No one would ever believe me...
As the days passed, I felt my wolf growing weaker. I could barely feel her presence anymore, just a faint whisper at the back of my mind. She used to comfort me, to lend me strength when I was afraid. But now, she was slipping away, retreating deeper and deeper into the shadows.
I could feel her pain, her sorrow. She was dying inside me, her light fading with every cruel word, every beating, every humiliation.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my heart breaking. “I’m sorry I’m so weak.”
But my wolf didn’t answer. She didn’t even stir.
I was truly alone....
One evening, as I was cleaning the Alpha’s quarters, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I barely recognized the girl staring back at me. Her face was pale and gaunt, dark circles under hollow eyes. Her hair was tangled and dull, her clothes torn and filthy.
She looked like a ghost. A shadow of the girl I used to be.
I touched my face, my fingers trembling as I traced the bruises on my cheek. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled, the last time I’d felt anything other than pain and fear.
I was nothing. Less than nothing.
I turned away from the mirror, my heart heavy with despair. This was my life now. A slave, a weak wolf who was nothing but a punching bag for Lila and Mira’s cruelty.
I had no one. No friends, no family, no mate. Kaden had rejected me, turned me into this... this broken thing. And my wolf... she was slipping away, fading into nothingness.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. I was a ghost in the pack house, a silent shadow who scrubbed floors, washed dishes, and endured the daily beatings and insults without complaint.
Lila delighted in tormenting me, her cruelty growing worse with each passing day. She would spill drinks on the floor and order me to clean them up, laughing as I scrambled to obey.
Once, she “accidentally” pushed me down the stairs, her face full of fake concern as I tumbled to the bottom, my body crashing against the steps.
“Oh, Ella!” she exclaimed, her voice dripping with false sympathy. “You really should be more careful. If you break your leg, you’ll be even more useless than you already are.”
The pain was unbearable, my leg throbbing with agony. But I couldn’t show weakness. I couldn’t let her see me cry.
I dragged myself back to my feet, biting back my screams as I limped away, my vision blurred with tears.
That night, I curled up in my tiny room, my body shaking with pain and grief. I reached out to my wolf, desperate for her comfort, her strength.
But there was nothing. Just an empty void where her presence used to be.
I choked back a sob, my heart shattering. “Please... don’t leave me. I need you...”
But my wolf was silent. She was slipping away, her light growing dimmer and dimmer. I could feel her pain, her sorrow, her despair.
She was dying. And I couldn’t save her.
I buried my face in my hands, my body trembling with grief. I was losing her, the only part of me that was strong, the only part of me that was worth anything.
Without her, I was nothing. Just a weak, broken girl trapped in a world that hated me.
Days passed, and my wolf grew weaker. I could barely feel her anymore, just a faint whisper at the edge of my mind. Her light was fading, her spirit withering away.
I was dying too. Not my body, but my soul. My hope. My will to fight.
I had nothing left. No strength, no courage, no one to care if I lived or died.
I was truly and utterly alone, and in pain....
- Writer
