Felt

    

    Lightning flashed across the freezing sky, brightening the room out of its darkness for only a single moment. The rain pounded on, jolting the windows that thudded against each drop.

    

    The room was simple, a small wooden bookshelf filled to the brim was near the door, the walls were a navy color while the door was pitch black. It seemed like a hotel room. Whoever brought her here obviously didn’t want her to know where he stays or was also on the run from things she would rather not bother herself with. It was almost square, perhaps a little longer than it was wide, with only one window that filled almost the entire far wall. So far, completely blank and empty, it was expectant, almost curious, and Emily, lying timidly in the bed, staring at the ceiling. 

    

    EMILY’s POV:

    I woke up in a bed that didn’t feel like mine. The sheets were a different color and they were made with a different fabric than mine. They had better quality, too. Even the pillows felt so soft. I had one under my head and one beside me. The ceiling boards above me were so far away, and it felt almost like I was lying in a field and starring at the sky—the ceiling appeared to be that far. 

    

    The man I met at the bar laid next to me and was fast asleep. He looked even more handsome in his sleep. I haven’t been with a lot of men in my life. I’ve only had my father and my first mate who completely ridiculed me in front of the entire pack! He couldn’t even speak up for me when the cook accused me of stealing. I couldn’t believe my ears. I really felt bad. And worse? I had no single person on my side. Not even a single member of my pack stood up for me. It made me wonder if they actually had any dignity in them. I wasn’t even given a fair trial. Everyone believed I killed my parents and no one would listen to me. Not even the alpha. I’d always thought he was a better listener than the rest of us, but apparently, he was no different. Maybe even worse than my trainer who only just knew how to bark orders—never caring if you broke a leg or hit a rock. His situation was understandable, though, as he was paid to shout at us during our trainings. He always said the enemy wouldn’t go easy on us and neither would he. At this point, I wondered if the alpha was paid to treat me this way. 

    

    He and father had been best friends before I was born. They’d been together even before father got married to mother. Father always told me about the story of his marriage and how he loved my mother with everything in him when he unveiled her before the entire pack. He’d never forget to bring up his favorite part of the story, where he always reminded me that the alpha did a notable job of bringing the rings to the lake that night after both rings were left back at home in hasty preparations to catch up with time and due negligence. I wondered why he’d treat me this way and wouldn’t even bother listening to me. I could feel the tears swelling in my eyes and I could feel my grief in my throat. It felt like a log pressed against my chest and I felt the weight of the entire building come crashing down on me. Funny thing was, the building sure as hell wasn’t even thinking of me. It was a lot more concerned about surviving the torrents of rain that fell outside. I wondered if the door even knew when I walked in, or if the bed knew I was lying down on it. I almost puked at the thought of how many women this mystery man had brought home and made love to. Or had sex with, rather. Mother always said only lovers made love. I felt slutty and hated myself. 

    

    I wondered how I ended up in bed with a total stranger and thought about mother. She would completely hate me if she found out. I muttered a short prayer of forgiveness under my breath and hoped she heard me. My guilt was short-lived when I turned towards him. He was all things charming. His nose was placed right, his ears were the perfect size, unlike Eric whose ears stood out like a cloud that didn’t fit in the sky. I wasn’t particularly fond of his teeth, too. He had really large incisors that often got me wondering if nature made a mistake in giving him werewolf genes. He would have easily done better as a rabbit. 

    

    The sudden rush of adrenaline I had wasn’t because of fear. It came because I was proud of myself. I mean, I earned myself a good looking man without having to go through the stress of hunting for him. I wasn’t in my best clothes and neither was I in my best behavior when I got him. I felt my stomach flutter and realized it was the first good feeling i’ve had since three weeks ago. I was thankful that the reason I felt this way was soundly sleeping beside me, and I muttered another prayer. It wasn’t for mother this time. I muttered a prayer of thanksgiving to the goddess for presenting me with a man as glorious as the one next to me. I began flirting with him in my head, lusting after his supple lips and naked skin, wishing he’d roll over and grab me. I inched in closer to him, but held myself back when the window flung open. The rain had become violent. 

    

    “How did you do it, Emily?”, I muttered under my breath. He looked charming. His hazel eyes were lightly closed in his sleep, and I could hear him breathe. I could see his ripped muscle through the sheets. He wasn’t putting on a shirt, and I tried to remember what touching him at the club felt like. It was then the pang of regret hit me. I made to move, but was held back by the head-splitting headache that tore through every single part of my head. It was almost as if my brains were set on fire. I calmly laid back and closed my eyes, it was still the early hours of the morning, and I could stay in bed for a few hours more. 

    

    While I laid there, it was hard for my head to comprehend that it’s only been three weeks since my parents were murdered. My normal, well-developed sense of time has been thrown off, and my ‘normal’ life had changed fundamentally for me. So much has happened in my mind, both physically and subconsciously, it feels almost like the last three weeks have melted together into one long blur. A blur of sadness, fear and extreme hate for my pack. 

    

    Losing one’s closest and deepest relation is undoubtedly going to have both immediate and future psychological impact. Looking back on my life with the eyes of an adult, it is painfully clear that I definitely wouldn’t be an exception to this.

    

    The short time I spent with my parents seemed like forever. While this lasted I was living in a bubble of happiness, and I was capable of loving so much affection that seemed unimaginable. When this was broken, I broke. I spent my days stuck on memories of them, finding it difficult to move on, and right now, I feel myself close up. This loss affected me very badly. I could feel myself draw closer to the end of my ability to care for someone else. My feelings began shutting down. The combination of my fundamental psychological state, personality and the feelings of loss and abandonment from this dilemma were too much for me to handle. My survival instinct took over and shut off the ability for me to ever fall in love or care about someone else other than myself. It was in that moment that I knew I was all I had. 

    

    If my father were alive, he’d have definitely diagnosed me with severe clinical depression, the kind that came with the snuffing out of everything you hold dear. My anxiety tripled and I felt like a candle being burned out, while an undefined anxiety throbbed through me. I spent my days in a bubble of apathy and anti-depressant potions that induced blurry visions and had the wrong perception of time as its side effects. I tried to escape my new found reality with the drugs, alcohol and potions. I hoped for everything to get better, expecting myself to go back to normal. Normal feelings, normal moods, functional and like everyone else, but things didn’t seem to want the normal way for me anymore and it wasn’t exactly uplifting.

    

    As if that wasn’t enough and to worsen things, I was in bed with someone I barely even knew. I wondered if this man knew I was a virgin. Now that I think of it, I feel myself and realized I couldn’t feel any pain or throbbing in my core. I wondered if he actually figured out I was a virgin and didn’t have me. I remember kissing him, but I have no recollection of what happened thereafter. At this point, my heart had already begun throwing somersaults in my chest. My breath was racing and I was panicking. The fear of my own vulnerability hit me like a freight train.

    

    During the last twenty years of my life, I’d tried a lot of different things with the intentions of being the best version of myself. I have gone through ‘hardcore’ meditation retreats. Most times, these meditations lasted for weeks, and I wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone. It taught me mindfulness, but now I badly wished I had someone to talk to. Someone real, someone I felt connected to. Someone who would understand me. I flirted with the man lying beside me again, but that was all. I couldn’t go further with him without being drunk, and in that moment, I craved psychedelic drugs. Sadly, none of my trainings seemed to have prepared me for the fatal blow I just got struck with. 

    

    Sometimes, when i look in the mirror, I see my father’s face, not my own, and I remember the way he’d smile at himself, in mirrors, before he went out. I missed him, and though I was under a blanket, I felt very bare. Wine might not make me forget, but I’d found if late that it served well to dull the pain. 

    

    *

    

    Lying in bed was the easy part. The most difficult part of the night was having to fill her lungs with someone else’s scent. She was thankful, though, that he smelled nice, but she couldn’t wrap her head around what happened earlier that night. She remembered getting up and going to the rest room, but then she lost it. She suddenly hated Eric for being responsible for making her find herself in this situation, and no matter how hard she tried to remember, she couldn’t reach in deep enough to harvest the memories of her night. Her mind was a blank slate and she could write nothing in it. It felt to her like the past hours of her life were spent without her knowledge, almost as though she swapped both her body and consciousness with someone different, and while she was at it, everything her body did wasn’t registered in her mind, and now, they were gone for good. She suddenly wished she was fully sober when she’d met this gentleman beside her. She didn’t even know his name, and it bothered her. Then, she swore to get over him as soon as she got out the door and headed home. She silently wished the rains would stop, and she felt sleep crawling up to her again. She checked the time. It was 02:48am. She still had a long way to go, so she decided to let herself sleep, reminding herself that whatever would have happened to her if he had bad intentions, might have as well happened already. 

    

    She sunk back into the soft bed, and reached out to the stars, staring at the ceiling as sleep slowly claimed her like a storm would, when it spreads across the sky.