Forgotten hope

I don't know how long I spent in the dungeons. Time blurred in the cold, damp space. The single flickering torch on the wall cast long shadows, each movement amplifying the quiet creaks and groans of the old stone walls. The darkness felt alive, pressing against me, weighing me down.

I traced a finger across my swollen cheek, wincing at the tender flesh. The initial sting had dulled, but the ache lingered, a constant reminder of my father's rage. His words echoed in my mind, sharp and cutting.

"You're a whore, just like your mother."

The accusation clung to me, heavy and suffocating. What did he mean by that? My mother's name was rarely spoken in the pack. Father said she had died shortly after Daisy was born, and no one ever dared to question him. The only memory I had of her was a single photograph, a faded image of her when she was pregnant with me, so young and happy.

I closed my eyes, picturing her youthful face. She looked so serene, her smile soft and full of hope. She couldn't have been more than eighteen.

"If she were here," I whispered, my voice barely audible in the stillness, "maybe she would have loved me, maybe things would have been different."

A lump formed in my throat, and I fought back tears. I'd spent my whole life craving love, yearning for affection from a family that saw me as a burden. If my mother were alive, would she have been different? Would she have held me close when I cried, whispered words of comfort when the world felt too harsh?

....

The dungeons had become a second home for me, a cruel familiarity that I could never escape. Every misstep, every perceived slight, earned me a trip to these cold, desolate cells.

Once, when I had accidentally spilled a tray of drinks at a feast, my father had sent me here without hesitation. Another time, Daisy had torn her favorite dress, and I was blamed for not taking better care of it. The punishments were relentless - whippings that tore into my skin, the sting of the lash burning long after the act was over.

Without a wolf, I couldn't heal like the others. Each scar remained, a permanent reminder of my failings in their eyes. The pain was a constant companion, but it was nothing compared to the emptiness in my heart.

I ran a hand over my arm, feeling the raised lines of old scars beneath my fingers. Each one told a story, though none of them were my own. They were the stories others had written for me the cursed daughter, the weakling, the unwanted.

"I just want him to listen," I murmured, my voice cracking. "Just once. Why can't he he see how much I need his acceptance."

I'd tried so hard to be the daughter he could be proud of. I cleaned, I cooked, I did everything Daisy asked without complaint. But no matter how much I gave, it was never enough. My father's eyes would always pass over me, cold and indifferent, as if I were a ghost haunting his perfect family.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor, pulling me from my thoughts. I stiffened, my heart pounding. Was it a guard? My father? Someone coming to deliver more punishment?

The heavy iron door creaked open, and a figure stepped inside. It wasn't my father, nor was it one of the guards. It was Liam my only friend in this pack.

His face was a mixture of anger and concern as he crouched beside me, his brown eyes scanning my face. "Arianne," he whispered, his voice tight. "What did they do to you this time?"

I shook my head, unable to find the words.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against my swollen cheek. I flinched at the contact, but he didn't pull away. "This isn't right," he said, his voice trembling with anger, even if he could help there was really nothing he could do. No one could ever go against father, he was feared far and wide so what would simple Liam the beta's son do. "None of this is right."

"I'm fine," I lied, forcing a weak smile.

"No, you're not," he said firmly. "You shouldn't be down here. You shouldn't be treated like this, you're his daughter for goddess's sake."

His words brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. "What choice do I have, Liam? He's the Alpha. I'm nothing. I'm less than nothing. Everyone here doesn't acknowledge me so what can I do"

"That's not true," he said, his voice softening. "You're worth so much more than this."

I wanted to believe him, but the weight of my reality crushed any hope that dared to bloom. "If that were true, why doesn't he see it? Why doesn't anyone see it?"

Liam didn't have an answer. Instead, he sat beside me, his presence a small comfort in the oppressive darkness.

After he left, the silence returned, heavier than before. I leaned my head against the cold stone wall, my thoughts swirling.

Was this my life? Was I destined to live and die in the shadows, unloved and forgotten? No wolf and no mate to take me out of my misery.

My fingers brushed against the locket around my neck, the only other thing I had of my mother's. It was tarnished and worn, the chain fragile from years of wear. I had never dared to open it, afraid of what I might find—or worse, afraid it would be empty, just like my memories of her.

I clutched it tightly, a desperate prayer forming in my mind.

"Please," I whispered, my voice trembling. "If you're out there, if you can hear me… tell me what to do. Tell me how to survive this."

But no answer came.

Only the silence of the dungeons, the cold embrace of the stone walls, and the unrelenting weight of my loneliness.

.....

Hours turned into days, or perhaps it was only a few hours—it was impossible to tell in the darkness. My cheek throbbed less, though the swelling remained. Hunger gnawed at my stomach, but the ache had become a familiar sensation, one I could ignore.

I thought of Daisy, of her perfect smile and the way Father looked at her with pride. I thought of Zane, his dark eyes filled with malice as he lied to save himself. And I thought of my mother, her kind face frozen in the photograph, a ghost I would never truly know.

Would things have been different if she had lived? Would Father have loved me then?

The questions were endless, but the answers remained elusive, lost to the shadows that surrounded me.

For now, all I could do was wait.

Wait for freedom, wait for a miracle, wait for the smallest sliver of hope to pierce through the darkness.

And in the silence, I prayed that one day, someone - anyone - would see me for who I truly was.