Mercy

“You don’t remember anything?” Isabella asked, looking at the girl with an expression of both worry and sadness in her eyes.

She lifted a hand to her hair again and noted that it seemed odd that it was so short. Hadn’t she had longer hair? “Uh, no. I don’t remember much of anything. Just….” What did she remember? Flashes of memories flickered through her mind as she thought about what she had been through recently. “Running.” She saw faces, angry ones. Long, sharp teeth. Hands raised and flying in her direction. She remembered the pain, too. Her bones ached. Her feet had been bleeding. She’d remembered urging herself to keep going, to move on as fast as she could go. She just couldn’t remember… why.

Isabella sat down on the edge of her bed, next to her knee. “Do you remember anything else, honey?”

She closed her eyes, trying to pull something out of the darkness. Her mind felt heavy, like a sponge that had sat so long in a pool of water that it had soaked up everything around it, locking it away where it couldn’t be found again. All she saw were flashes, and each one of them contained an image that made her tremble. Whatever it was she was meant to remember, she didn’t think she wanted to.

Slowly, she shook her head, opening her eyes. A tear slid down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I can’t remember anything.”

Isabella lifted her hand, and she immediately flinched away, causing the older woman to slowly lower her hand. “Oh, honey, I was just going to wipe the tear off of your cheek. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“It’s okay,” she said, feeling a rush of color flood her face. She swiped at the tear herself.

“Whatever you’ve been through, it must’ve been pretty terrible, sweetheart.”

A nod and a hard swallow was all she could muster as she stared at her folded, scratched up hands in her lap. No words would come to mind, so she didn’t bother to respond.

“Well, you’re here now, and you’re safe,” Isabella reminded her, patting her on the leg through the thin, whit blanket. “You can stay here as long as you like, dear.”

“Thank you.” It was a soft whisper. Anything else would’ve choked in her throat.

“Of course, honey. Think nothing of it. We are just glad you’re here and safe.” Isabella patted her again and let out a small chuckle. “Mercy, though, we’ll have to think of something to call you, sweetheart. We can’t keep calling you, ‘the girl,’ now can we? That just won’t do.”

“Mercy?” she repeated, thinking about what that word meant.

“Oh, it’s just an old saying, something my grandma used to say,” Isabella explained, as if she had been asking why she’d said the word.

She knew what mercy meant. She also knew what it meant not to have mercy, though she couldn’t remember exactly who had been unmerciful. “Mercy,” she repeated. “I think… that’s what you’ve given me. Mercy.”

“Mercy?” Isabella repeated, suddenly realizing what the girl was saying. “That would make a lovely name. Mercy.”

She took a deep breath and settled back a little bit into the thick pillows. Perhaps she had been someone in the past who didn’t deserve mercy, or couldn’t get it, but now, looking around this room, at the care that had been provided for her, at the warm face of the woman sitting next to her, she had a feeling mercy was exactly what she had been granted. “Yes, I think so, too,” she said.

“All right then, Mercy. I will go let the Alpha know that you’re awake.”

That word--Alpha--struck fear in her heart. Mercy’s eyes widened, and her lip began to quiver. “Why?” she asked.

“So he can meet you.”

She took a deep breath and tried to still her pounding heart. Whatever it was about that word, she didn’t like it. She had to trust Isabella, though. If she wanted her to meet this Alpha, he must be the type of person who would show her kindness, or else, she hadn’t found any mercy at all.