Not this place again...

With my body feeling like an anchor that had been thrown out to sea, I sink vastly beneath the pressing tides of weighing consciousness while silently slipping away into the darkness awaiting me below. Left to drift into my serenading slumber, I remain helpless as it grasps me within its unfaltering hold—trapping me as if I were merely a passenger within my own being, incapable of trying to do anything other than hope for its mercy. Despite my wishful prayers, I’m forcefully dragged away from the present; released in a spiralling freefall that plummets me straight back into the familiar shadowy depths of my clutching dreamworld. Bracing myself for the repetitive sequence of haunting memories to scorch into my mind’s eye, I wait in nervous anticipation for the ordeal to begin. When the replay of unfortunate events fails to arrive, I can’t quite shake the feeling that something seems drastically off; leaving me to question if I had actually fallen asleep or whether this was the unfolding of something far worse.

Allowing my eyes to open, my held breath rushes from my lungs with relief when I realise that I’m still tucked up in bed. Leaning on my side, I glance around the undisturbed room while it sits in an eerily thick and consuming fog. Presuming it must have seeped through the cracked window that we had forgetfully left open, I watch on through a tired daze while it drifts across the floor in a rolling mist. Checking over my surroundings dubiously, I unwind when it appears no different from how it was before when I had given in to my intoxicating exhaustion, only dimmer as time appears to have passed on throughout the day. Rubbing my eyes, I notice a sharp chill cast over my skin that not even the smouldering blanket covering me can deter—leaving me to tremble against the ghastly breeze, bitterly. Turning over to wake Dakota, I pause in confusion when I realise she is no longer lounging at my side. Growing aware of the silence filling the room, the absence of the beeping monitors becomes apparent while the entangling entourage of wires I had recently found myself hooked up to are nowhere to be seen.

Sitting up anxiously, I cautiously take my time while preparing for the ravenous pain nestled within me to explode just as it had done earlier on. Stunned, I get up with effortless ease—bewildered by the lack of complaining aches, wondering how it is possible for them to have faded into nothingness so soon. Looking over towards the mirror sat ahead of me, my unexpecting reflection catches me by surprise as the decorative dark bruises and healed cuts that had branded my skin were now gone, leaving my appearance only that of youthful; seemingly unbroken. Overwhelmed, I feel myself glow on the inside while I stare in disbelief towards the portrayal of my younger self—suddenly growing suspicious of how this can be real. Throwing the duvet away from me, I swing my legs over the side of the bed to get up—stopping as I glance down to find that I’m already fully dressed. Noting the familiar black jeans and my no longer torn jacket, my stomach lurches chaotically as I grow unsettled by the realisation that this is the same outfit I wore on the night of the Crescent City’s takeover.

No longer wanting to stand around, I hurry towards the closed door leading to the unknown and turn the heavy handle. Giving it a gentle shove, it slowly creeks open, allowing a bright flash of glowing light to race into the dim room. Holding a hand in front of my eyes, I allow the door to swing open before poking my head out curiously. Glancing to my side, I inspect the narrow corridor I’m met with while its deep red walls stand illuminated by a dozen antique oil lamps. With each light alternating along the hallway, they expose a handful more doors scattered throughout—each one appearing identical to my very own. Hit with intrigue as my eyes levitate towards the end, I notice one entrance that stands out from the rest—looking much larger and noticeably different compared to those that come before it. Finding myself undeniably compelled, I marvel at the well-cut stones lining the arched doorway as it stands aged and dated. An engorgement of beautiful patterns decorates its front in a grand and regal design, spiralling gracefully with sapphires encrusting the pattern as if it belonged in a fairy-tale castle rather than here.

Timidly stepping into the corridor, I leave the sanctuary of my room behind me and unthinkingly release the door from my grasp—unknowingly allowing it to slam shut in return. With the click of the lock snapping loudly upon its close, I tumble into a panic when I turn around quickly in regret and frantically grab at the stiffened handle. To my despair, I break a sweat while desperately trying to prise it back open when my efforts are of no use as it remains unbudged, almost like it had quickly solidified in its place. Filling with rising dread, I feel a gathering of spit pool at the back of my throat. Gulping down, I press my damp forehead against the wooden pane while trying to swallow the growing worry building within me, unable to make it subside no matter how hard I try.

          “We can’t go back,” a poised and proper voice calls out; startling me as I spin around and search for whoever it may be, left to reel in alarm as I appear entirely alone, “-all we can do is go forward.”

“Who’s out there?” my voice wavers while my head flits from side to side.

          “Don’t panic. It’s me, your wolf,” she speaks out once more, causing my eyes to widen when I notice the slight difference in how she had sounded during our last encounter, wiser almost in her tone.

“Great, so this is a dream,” I murmur sarcastically while clicking my tongue against my teeth, “-do I even want to know what this place is?” I ask miserably, my tone brimming with unease.

          “There’s no time for questions, Willow. The clock is against us and there’s much to get through. We need to open the door just ahead,” she requests with urgency.

“Why?” I cross my arms stubbornly, “What’s through there?”

          “You’ll see soon enough. This will all make sense to you when you reach the end of the hall,” she answers through a curious riddle, “-but for now, you need to go with the flow. If you keep asking questions, you’ll become aware too soon, which means you’ll wake up before you can finish. Now hurry. You’re already thinking about this too much as it is. Go.”

Deciding to trust her word, I turn to face the nearby door while obeying my wolf without question. Shuffling reluctantly towards the closed barricade, my heart quickens its pace as I reach out for the handle. Before I can clasp it in my hand, the door swings open in a fierce swoosh with no help required, as if it were awaiting me to near. Peering inside warily, all that I can see within the mysterious space is enclosing darkness. With no warning, my feet begin to drag against the floor while my body moves towards the doorway, almost as if an unseen force was pushing me inside. Despite my resistance, I’m shoved into the shadowy room when the door slams loudly behind me, locking into place just as mine had done—preventing me from attempting to flee.

Terrified as I stand within the blinding darkness, I fathom over what awaits me while pushing back against the barricaded exit. Refusing to move, I blink wildly while looking around when the room suddenly takes shape as it cascades into the familiar interior of somewhere I wished I would never return. With a surging pang of horror coursing through me, I tense out of instinct. Glancing down, I find myself standing at the top of the stairs that had once led to the damp and putrid cellar I briefly called home—my temporary prison for over two weeks after I was captured during the attack of the Crescent City. Recalling how I was snatched away from the flat, I remember the haunting time I had spent down here against my will when a shuddering wave of déjà vu flows throughout me like an electrifying surge.

With nowhere else to go other than down, I take in a deep breath and hold on to the splintered bannister when the decrepit staircase groans in the complaint as I place my weight on the first step. Desperate to get whatever this is over with, I push past my gripping fear and continue my descent into the crumbling room. As I reach the bottom, I hear a muffled sniffle, causing me to jump and gasp loudly while filling my lungs with the musky, dust-filled air. Snapping my head to scan the cluttered room filled with unwanted possessions, my blood turns to ice when my eyes fall upon the poor, frail figure huddled in the room’s corner. I watch as the weak, brown-haired girl dozes in and out of a restless sleep while she lies on the bare concrete ground. Her small frame shakes violently, tormented by the persistent chill flowing through the out of reach basement window, purposely left open to ensure her ongoing discomfort while the looming winds creep in coldly from outside.

Wanting to help her just as Ash had done for me, I turn to walk towards the damaged girl when a loud bang erupts from behind me before travelling thunderously down from the top of the stairs. Looking up, I stagger backwards when the once unmoved door swings open with a thunderous force. Stumbling in dismay, my retreat comes to a halt as I collide into the nearby wall when a clumsy set of footsteps trudges down the damp-riddled steps while a drunken voice cursing in accompaniment slurs in distaste. With nowhere to hide at such short notice, I stand motionless; frozen to my spot while trembling, forced to face my former sadistic torturer, Sam, as he takes an unsteady swig from his beer bottle before throwing it against the wall—close to the side of my head. Wincing at the loud smash, the glass shatters in an explosion of glistening shards before scattering everywhere on the floor after impact.

Expecting a reaction while I stand in his line of sight, I brace for the worst when he glides past me while paying me no attention at all—his pupils dilated while remaining completely fixated on the girl chained up on the floor, licking his lips grotesquely as he approaches her at steed. Appearing worse for wear, Sam carries a set of purple circles beneath his bloodshot eyes while he twitches sporadically, scratching his neck roughly in jerking movements. Unable to walk straight, he crashes into a nearby bookcase after struggling to maintain his balance, causing the fatigued girl to stir not far from his reach.

“Leave her alone,” I cry out in fury, not wanting anyone else to go through what I had endured down here at his hands.

          “He doesn’t see us. We are merely just observers here, Willow. To be truthful, I must say that I’m quite surprised. I thought you would’ve clicked on by now. Haven’t you noticed the resemble yet? Doesn’t this feel a little too familiar to you?” my wolf comments observantly, her tone prompting.

“Should it?” I shake my head unknowingly.

          “I would hope so. This is your memory. Can’t you tell? We’re just seeing it from a new perspective,” she answers calmly.

“I don’t want to go through that again,” I shake my head, agonised as the huddled girl shifts on the floor unknowingly when her brown locks move away from her face; exposing that of mine, “-I’ve tried to forget about this for a reason. Why are you bringing all of this back up?” I snap at her furiously.

          “Remember what I said. No questions. Try to calm down,” my wolf soothes.

“Calm down?” I scoff in annoyance.

Scrunching my fists, I watch helplessly while the scene unfolds. As Sam’s ravenous brown eyes burn in a drunken rage, he storms towards my past self—a sinister grin spreading across his face as he practically lunges across the room. Like a seeking missile, he aims towards her while the stale stench of alcohol mixed with sweat follows behind him, lingering in the air as he creates a pungent, toxic trail. Towering over her while reaching into his pocket, Sam leers over and crouches at her side. With a tilting head, he sickly observes my former self as if she were a lab rat during a study—a cruel mask of intrigue painting his face as he readies himself to give her a fright while lowering his face beside her own.

“Wakey wakey,” Sam snarls savagely; a deranged undertone hidden within his voice, “-it’s time for another experiment, mutt. Time to get up,” Sam retrieves his folded pocketknife before leaning up and kicking my past self on the ground, making her yelp in anguish during an unwelcomed awakening.

Sam’s chilling words echo in the air like a ghostly whisper as the returning emotions that I had felt during this very moment rush back to me all at once. With tears spilling down my cheeks, I stand enraged, infuriated by the vile man as he cruelly taunts me with wicked intentions. Unable to watch his blossoming enjoyment pursue any further, I go to rush in defence; unsure of whether my actions will make any difference given my wolf's forewarning when I’m stopped, shocked by the sight that I see. Struggling to remember this happening, I watch as my former self pushes herself up from the ground while chuckling croakily, defiantly absorbing each punch and kick dealt her way. Despite the pain engorging her, she conjures a crooked smirk in retaliation—infuriating him even more as she refuses to submit. Was I really this strong back then? Did I honestly do this?

“When are you going to give in?” Sam stops to catch his breath; brushing his matted hair out of his eyes, “You’re only making this harder for yourself,” he rolls into a rant, “-you do realise that if you stopped fighting back, we wouldn’t have to do all of this,” he grunts while dealing a bone-cracking kick to my wrist while swiping it from beneath me—sending my past-self to the ground in a heaving sob before placing his foot upon my back.

“Get off of me,” my former-self screams pitifully, “-leave me alone.”

“You’re not exactly in a position to make demands now, are you love?” Sam teases sinisterly, “Stop squirming around and stay still will you? I’ve got a new concoction for us to test out. And you wanna pray to the Moon Goddess that it works this time,” his frowning face twists with excitement as he props his knife by his feet, “-because I’m fed the hell up with getting it in the neck over you lately. So, make sure you try real hard for me now, yeah?” he eagerly retrieves his hand before reaching into his coat pocket, slurring on his words mockingly.

“What are you talking about?” she weakly squirms, unmoved beneath Sam’s inflicted weight.

“Well, seeing as how the other methods haven’t worked out so far, a certain someone with a peculiar interest in you whipped this up for us to try. Let’s see if this stuff will make you shift, what’cha say?” Sam sadistically gloats, resting the remainder of his weight upon his perched knee.

“Why are you doing this to me?” my younger-self murmurs despite the building pressure being held against her, spluttering a spray of blood onto the grey floor as she chokes on her words, “What did I ever do to you?”

“Stop playing dull,” Sam sneers, “-you know exactly why you’re here. That’s why you’ve made it impossible to shift. Now, shut up,” he pulls out a wide syringe filled with some kind of glistening purple fluid, almost luminescent and most defiantly being that of nothing good, “-this shouldn’t hurt,” he pauses, “-too much,” before snorting, popping off the capped lid to reveal a thick needle.

Startled by Sam’s ominous warning about what he has in store for her, my younger self understandably freaks out, unwilling to go through whatever her captor has in mind. Using all of her remaining strength, she thrashes beneath the tightening hold held above her, causing Sam to wobble away unsteadily—too intoxicated to fight against the resistance. Dropping the syringe to the ground, his eyes search in a craze for his pocketknife while my past self scrambles to her knees. Upon grabbing his weapon, he flicks it open, making a sharp swooshing noise as it reveals a glimmering short blade. With terror widened eyes, she looks at the knife in his hand while he waves it in front of her face playfully—leaving her to shake with fright as she watches Sam slash at the space between them threateningly.

“I thought I told you to stay still,” Sam resentfully scorns through gritted teeth, the veins on his forehead protruding as he proceeds to grow enraged, “-why can’t you just listen? You always have to make everything difficult,” his nostrils flare wide.

“And I thought I told you to leave me alone,” my past self spits back intransigently.

Riled up from the sarcastic response, Sam impatiently launches towards her with a blood-thirsty hunger riddled within his eyes. Struggling to pin her back down, the pair tumble into a grunt-filled wrestle while my former self’s efforts of escape continue to prevail as she dodges his flailing punches repeatedly. Despite countering most of Sam’s furious blows, her spent energy quickly catches up to her after enduring countless days of being experimented on, leaving her body to weaken against Sam’s persistent fighting restraint. Noticing her strength decline, Sam seizes the moment and slams her back against the ground. Pressing his knees against my younger self’s chest, the breath held within her lungs is forced out while he grips her wrists harshly together above her thrashing head. She erupts into a wail filled with pure agony while he squeezes his grip around her skinny fingers, clicking them loudly while chuckling coldly at her pleas—feeding on them as if they were a drug.

“You know what, I’ve had enough of this,” he sneers while pressing the sharpened blade against her throat, dragging it ruthlessly across the side of her neck in a slow, torturous manner while opening up a deep gash of skin; exposing the raw flesh beneath in a swift flow of movement, “-that’ll teach you. Maybe next time, you’ll listen to me and do as you’re told,” she responds with a shriek engulfed in pain, begging for him to stop.

Stepping away in disgust, he frees my past self’s hands, allowing her to clasp them around her bleeding wound. With a steady stream of blood trickling down her shoulder as if red paint had been poured from somewhere overhead, the anger burning inside of me boils over; sending me into a frenzy as I lunge towards Sam’s back while he continues to mock and torment her. Despite my urging will, my fists repeatedly bounce off of him instead of pounding against his spine, leaving my former captor entirely unfazed. Wrapping my arms around him, I heave loudly while trying to drag him away, growing frustrated as my attempts of pulling frantically at him are useless—appearing unbudged, remaining unmoved from his spot like a statue built out of ice.

          “You can’t do anything. This is just a memory; a replay of what we endured recently. We cannot stop what has already happened, Willow. Everything has already been set in stone here. The path ahead has already been made for those that we see—all we can do now is watch and appreciate what we have overcome.”

“You’re no wolf,” Sam spits at my younger self, “-I don’t know why we’re wasting our time on you. If I had it my way, you’d be lying in the gutter out there somewhere,” his head tilts upwards towards the small rectangular window towards the top of the wall, “-I tell you what. I’m gonna leave you here to cool down for a bit,” he sniffles loudly, scratching his arm, “-let you think over what you just did, yeah?” he takes a harrowing step towards her threateningly, “And when I come down here next, you’re going to be a little more receptive with me, isn’t that right, mutt?”

A dark, unsettling smile spreads across her lips as she chuckles mockingly while a faded shade of red taints her teeth. Stunned at my past self’s resilience, Sam’s eyebrows lower in confusion, not sure how to react to her insubordination. Lifting her rattled head upwards, her eyes lock onto his defiantly—not breaking her jarring gaze while barely making it to her bare feet. Taking a step forward, the haunting sound of scraping chains drag against the floor behind her before she leans back and spits in her captor’s face—splattering a spray of fresh blood all over him; making him recoil back in horror. As Sam quickly wipes at his skin with the back of his sleeve, he growls beneath his breath while lifting his dirtied shirt to wipe his face in disgust, dashing away from her, more aggravated than he had ever been before. 

“What the-,” Sam gags with repulsion, “-just you wait till’ later. You’re gonna get it,” he warns her while pointing an angered finger in her direction, his voice filling with unforgivable promise.

Giving her a heavy thud before his leave, she falls backwards and lands awkwardly, causing a gush of air to part from her chapped and cut lips. Storming away, Sam mutters something under his breath about needing another drink before turning to face my past self one last time. Darting her a glare filled with ill-intent and the worst of wishes, his reddened eyes squint as he looks her over; clenching his protruding jaw before forcing himself to turn away and storm off. In a huff, he races past me while kicking an already broken chair out of his path as his hands remain gripped into fists. With Sam disappearing up the stairs in a strop, my attention returns to my past self while she scrambles breathlessly on the ground when the deathly slam of the door echoes upon Sam’s leave—causing a massive crash to fill the emptiness of his once overpowering presence. 

          “Look at what you survived. Not many people would have been able to get through this, but you did. And you did it all alone. With no wolf to help you, either. Without me to help you through it-“ my wolf corrects herself sharply as if she had stumbled upon her words mistakenly, “-you may have forced yourself to forget what happened here tonight, but I remember, and so should you. You’re far stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“Survived?” I shake my head while scoffing; suddenly noticing the returning discoloured marks branding across my skin just as my past self appears to look while she heaves pitifully on the other side of the room, “Look at us. Look at what we became. We’re broken and useless. I mean, for heaven’s sake, you haven’t even bothered to make an actual appearance yet, and how many years has it been since you were supposed to? How can you say that we’re strong if we can’t even handle that?”  

          “You’re getting yourself too worked up. Calm yourself, Willow. There’s more to come. Much more,” my wolf tries to coax me into relaxing, riling me up even when I can already remember the painful hours that came to follow before Ash rescued me with mere minutes to spare, “-if you become too aware, you’ll wake up. You need to see what comes next. There’s more to your story than you already know. Watch.”

“I know what happens. I don’t need to see all this again,” I can’t help but hide my frustration while venting, “-I mean, seriously? What was the point of all this?”

Waking towards my younger self while she struggles to manage that of a whimper, I watch helplessly as she shuffles backwards, appearing to be in a state of shock. With trembling hands, she reaches down towards the strewn dirtied blanket that she had used for cover—ripping into it uncaringly before wrapping the torn strips around her neck, trying to stop the blood flow. Remembering how thankful I was that the knife did not go in any further, I watch the dawning relief cast across her face, just as it had done on mine a few months before. Thanking her remaining lucky stars, she stumbles to her feet, grasping the wall behind her for support while looking wistfully towards the small open window—fighting to hold herself up.

My body aches as I watch her; reliving the consuming feeling of agonising pain at her side while her beaten chest and gashed neck ache with every breath that she takes. I can’t help but wince as she shuffles numbly around the small space that she’s permitted to wonder, recalling how we had urged ourselves to stand and not give in to the tiredness that swiftly followed after the ordeal. Despite what should have felt like my impending doom, I remember thinking at that moment that this wasn’t the end of my story—refusing to allow myself to fall at the hands of this man, certain I would not be another one of his many forgotten victims that he so happily enjoyed bragging about. Glancing up, her misted eyes fixate on the moon creeping into the sky; praying to the Moon Goddess for her help and guidance, unknowing that it wouldn’t be long until her requests were answered.

          “It won’t be much longer. Just keep waiting.”

“I’m going to be completely honest with you. These riddles you’re giving me are really getting on my nerves,” I snap, “-what more is there? Ash finds me,” I shrug while raising my arms dismissively, “-and we get the hell out of this dump. We hide in the Barren Lands and meet the others,” I reason, “-the rest is history. I don’t understand how reliving all of this is going to better me?”

          “We get to see more,” she advises curiously.

As her words fill my head, I go to ask what she means when no sound protrudes from my moving mouth. With my vision suddenly blurring before me, everything fades into darkness when my eyes dart open in a flash of stark movement—sending me back to the familiar pale room I had first awoken in earlier on today. Panting desperately for breath, I clasp the bedsheets surrounding me while glancing up, surprised to be met with the concerned faces of a half-asleep Dakota and what looks to be that of a brown and white speckled wolf.