Chapter 4: Memories

Chapter 4: Memories

Hana disappeared from the room as quickly as she could, her heart racing with fear and disgust. She breathed out and ran to the bathroom, the walls seemed to shut out the room behind her, and with a loud bang she shut the door and remained standing against it, panting.

The tenderness on her neck welled feeling that tingled all through reminded her of Jarrel's ownership over her delicate body.

Then, she opened the tap and allowed the water to run for quite some time before it became very hot. Panicking, she wiped her neck hard as if she could wash away the symbol that chained her to the man who was solely responsible for ruining her existence. The water scalded her skin, still, she did not mind. The more she scrubbed, she cried tears along with the water that was running down her face.

“Why?” She yelled, her voice resonating within the bathroom walls lined with tiles.

"Why did it have to be him?"

Images of her parents and brother flashed in her mind. She remembered the night Jarrel's men had stormed their home. Her father, the proud Alpha of the MoonLight pack, had fought valiantly, but he was no match for the sheer number of attackers.

She saw him fall, blood pooling around him as he took his last breath. Her mother, fierce and protective, had tried to shield her, but she too was cut down. And her brother, brave and loyal, had been slaughtered before her eyes as he tried to defend their family.

The memories were a torment, each one more painful than the last. She had watched helplessly as her family was destroyed, their pack overrun by Jarrel's forces. The survivors were either slaughtered or sold to other packs like livestock. Every day since had been a nightmare, filled with the cries of her people and the relentless brutality of their captors.

Afterward, Hana was disgusted and tired, she felt filthy and broken, and her skin was red and even raw from her washing.

“I cannot go on like this,” she said in a soft contagiously weak voice. ”I can’t stand it. ”

She looked at herself through the mirror unconsciously as her lips were pink and wet. The woman staring back at her was a stranger, her eyes dilated with sorrow and anguish, her face wet with tears and red with scraped skin. She saw the mark, an ugly existence that could not be denied by anyone ever again. A boiling brewing of hatred and disgust filled her up and she cried out loud a scream of anger.

She screamed aggressively to her reflection in the mirror, ‘Get out!’ "Get out of my life!"

She let out a loud scream and suddenly punched the mirror. The glass broke to pieces all over the place. Numbness spread across her hand and up her arm but it was not quite so unbearable as the pain in her chest. She looked at the scattered glass pieces and cried stiff breathing. Blood fell from the wound on her hand and fell onto the water on the sink.

Feeling frustrated and helpless Hana took up a piece of glass with a sharp edge to her. She palmed the object turning it with her fingers and slicing her palm with the keen edge. The pain was a strange companion, and it was better for her to feel the pain outside rather than the torment inside her.

"I can’t do this." She murmured. "I can't live like this anymore."

She held the glass against her wrist, the cut as if passionate to cut deeper into her skin. She thought for a while, that last spark which still burned within her core hoping for a different ending slowly fading away, the images and the experience cruelly overwhelming.

With a soft sound of despair, she drew the glass across her skin and blood started to appear on the surface. She did it again, and again; each time, the cut seemed to be even more painful than the one before it.

Her vision started to fade as the room spun around; what little blood she had left settled around her body. She felt her energy fading, her muscles getting soft and she knew she was nearing her end. She collapsed to the ground and the floor was cold and hard, with the chilliness feeling her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” She said softly as though she didn’t want to disturb the silence that engulfed the room. "I'm so sorry. "

Her eyes shut, and the world around her faded to black.

****

Jarrel stood outside His room, his expression a mask of frustration and anger. He had marked her and claimed her as his mate, yet she continued to defy him. Her spirit, her resistance, was both infuriating and intriguing. He had never met anyone who stood up to him the way she did.

"Alpha," one of his guards approached, bowing his head respectfully. "There's something you need to see."

"What is it?" Jarrel snapped, not in the mood for more problems.

"It's Lady Hana, sir. She's in the bathroom, and... there's blood."

With surprise on his face, Jarrel pushed past the security officer and hurried down the hallway. He stormed inside the restroom and came to a complete stop. He was met with a horrifying and hopeless scene. Hana's deep wrist cuts were causing blood to pool around her as she lay on the floor. What had transpired was revealed by the broken mirror and the sharp fragment of glass she was holding.

Jarrel was momentarily paralyzed, a whirlwind of emotions racing through him. Anger, frustration, and something more that felt strange and uneasy. He dismissed it instantly, crouching next to Hana and placing his fingertips against her neck. Her pulse was faint, but it was there.

"Get the healer!" he barked at the guard. "Now!"

The guard ran off, and Jarrel lifted Hana into his arms. Her skin was pale due to blood loss, and her body was limp. He brought her over to the bed and carefully placed her down. His thoughts were racing, trying to decide what to do. Although he had anticipated resistance, this was... something else. This was pain and desperation he hadn't expected to see.