Past life begans

[Elara's POV]

 When I'm a little calmer, my mother asks. I give a headshake. "Not at present, though I'm sure he would eventually."

"If the rejection affects the infants?" She asked.

I give a head shaking gesture. "No, I asked Smith, but he said I would likely not be able to bear any more kids after this."

"Oh my god! We can't allow him to turn you down then, Elara. It will obliterate your prospects of becoming a mother."

"Mum! These two priceless babies that are developing inside of me are still mine. They are more than sufficient. In addition, I doubt I will ever be able to love again." I put a hand on my stomach and said in a hushed voice. "I've decided on something. I'll let him go. I'm hoping you can agree with this choice and keep it secret." 

She smiles and says warmly, "Of course. Why do you have such an aversion towards having children?" I sigh, and she continues. "But no matter what, we'll support you, okay? As long as the decision is yours." I smile back gratefully at her and lean against her shoulder. It takes all her energy for me to remain upright, and so I rest most of my weight on her. She wraps an arm around my shoulders and gives me a squeeze and says, "It'll be alright, Elara. I know you won't make the same mistake twice!"

 

I reach out and take her hand firmly in mine. I've felt her hands before, but now they feel colder and more wrinkly.  She hasn't been working in the fields very much lately since I was born, and she doesn't seem tired like usual.  Her palms were always dry, never moist or soft. The skin was thin and dry.  There were few wrinkles in her knuckles, and they looked pale blue where the light hit them.  The color was always unnatural, the pigment always dark blue. But today I see her fingers trembling as though in a cold breeze and realize how old her hands really are.  I look up at her face and she seems so worried about me.  How sad must my fate be if it's affecting my mother like that?

 

"Really nicely... I don't believe you require him. Go ahead and get rid of him tomorrow. You may then give your kids and yourself your full attention. Elara, you're still young; you'll meet someone better."

"Am I going to? Then explain to me, Mom, why you haven't moved on."

She gets to her feet, obviously offended by what I said. "My situation was... different."

"I'm sorry Mom." I suggest standing up. She shakes her head, turns back to face me, and grins pitifully.

"No Elara, it's alright, we'll be ok." She replies, bringing me into a loving embrace that I really need before she releases me. "We're going to relocate away from this pack, either to the outskirts of the city or somewhere else. You and your kids have me. Somewhere he'll never be able to track you down or attempt to kidnap your kids. I swear to you that I will protect you."

When I nod, Mom leaves, claiming she'll go get my bedroom ready for me and leaving me by myself in that elaborate living room.

 I stare into the fire and wonder why she insists I leave my friends behind.  I thought things had changed with my mother's return. We've gone from being complete strangers to spending countless nights in each other’s arms while talking of life and death problems. She’s gotten me used to the idea that I have friends who care about me and wouldn't mind losing a friend to their Alpha, if it meant keeping me safe. But even then, I was hesitant to bring my family along. If I had my own choice to make, I'd stay here, at least until my husband has finished his work. Maybe I'd wait longer, if I could. I might never see another person like them again after leaving my village.

I remove my phone from my backpack and listen to the floorboards cracking under her weight as she moves around upstairs for a short while.

I take a long breath to compose myself and phone Sebastian's number; it rings once before he answers.

"Hello?"

"I need to inform you that I've signed the paperwork, and I have left." I say, attempting to maintain a steady tone.

He goes silent for a little. "That's good to know. The rejection will be held tomorrow morning. Come to my office promptly at ten o'clock."

As though this were any other business meeting.

"That's fine, I am going to arrive at the pack hall before time." I silently respond.  

"Ok!!" he said sharply and hung up the phone.

I hang up, feeling my heart thumping my chest in time with the menacing clock that sits on the wall. He doesn't even regret his choice in the slightest.   He's made my life easy and now expects me to live by his rules when I should be able to decide my own path. This isn't fair, I think to myself, but that's nothing new. I just want him to be there when I tell everyone, so that they'll understand my choices. So that they' ll treat me like the adult I am instead of some helpless girl. I look at myself in the mirror and realize that I'm starting to look older than I am - the faint lines around my eyes are prominent, and I've started developing more muscle definition than I did when I first got pregnant. 

My hair is beginning to show signs of gray, but only a little bit. And my breasts have filled in enough that I don't wear a bra anymore. I try to imagine my belly swelling, and it looks like a balloon, the flesh growing fat and heavy like it has done before. But then, there is the baby inside of me, growing fast enough that soon enough I can' t be mistaken for anything else, I'm certain of that. And yet my belly is just so small. How can I possibly conceive twins? Even if I did have a baby now, my uterus would not provide viable birth control for both the twins and their parents.  

My whole life feels like a fever dream. My dreams consist of my husband, the children, and I living my perfect life. And yet here I am, alone in a house that has seen far too many of its inhabitants die and disappear.  This place makes me sick to my stomach, and every breath I take is filled with the scent of blood and decay.  That blood smells wrong, though I couldn't tell if it was human or vampire because the stench wasn't nearly strong enough to carry. The smell isn't strong, though, and the smell of blood isn't usually accompanied by the odor of death, which I find reassuring.  

What does it mean? Why do I keep smelling blood here, when there' s none in my home? Why does the scent of death smell so foul? How come that one of those odors is stronger near my husband and one of the odors in my home is so much more potent toward him than toward me? Where is the source of the blood and decaying smell coming from? Why am I not afraid? I sigh and stand up. I have to clear my mind from all this rubbish.  I'm hungry. 

Hungry for food that won't kill me. Hunger for blood I don't even like the taste of. I went over to a cabinet and pulled out the largest bottle of wine I had left.  The liquid inside was already chilled to room temperature by the time I opened it, but still, I poured some into a glass.  I drank it quickly and then threw the empty glass aside. I then picked up the bottle from the table, unscrewed the lid, and began drinking the contents down like a man dying of thirst. A burning sensation came from my throat all the way down my torso, as the liquid travelled through every vein and organ in my body to fill my stomach completely.

Then I heard the door creak open. I froze instantly, gripping the bottle tightly in my hand, and looking around cautiously, searching for the intruder. When I didn't spot any movement, I lowered my gaze to my body and noticed my clothes were damp and sticky. A cold chill crept up my spine as a realization dawned on me: someone was in here with me. Someone had followed me home! Slowly lowering my head towards the floor I tried to peer at the intruder's feet beneath the table. At first I couldn't quite make them out; everything was shrouded in shadow.  Gradually I became more aware of what I was seeing, and eventually I could distinguish two pairs of shoes.

Afraid, I ran toward my mom's room and grabbed the handle to open it  quietly. It took a lot of effort to pull the door to an inch open, but when I finally succeeded, I saw no sign of her, nor anyone else.  She wasn't there, but the scent of blood lingered heavily throughout the room. I slowly walked further into the house and saw the remains of what remained of my mother lying on the floor. Her eyes were closed as she had obviously died moments ago, but I knew it wasn't natural. I was frozen in fear as I watched blood flow from her wounds into the white carpet. The sight of it reminded me of the red trail I'd been following for years. I looked away from my mom and scanned the area for the intruder. I don't know what happened further. 

Suddenly I felt blackness descend over me and, without realizing it, my knees gave in underneath me. My vision began to fade and I lost consciousness.

That was the time when I woke up 7 years has already, passed.  Now I'm sitting in front of my fireplace, staring blankly in the direction of the flames as my thoughts drift to my past.  I think about how happy I was that my mom had come back, and how I had been so worried for my father and my brother.  They were both working in the kitchen when I arrived home that night. I was unable to process the scene that I witnessed earlier. It was obvious that my mom had died in my presence. I remember looking down at my hands, and I saw the blood that had covered them, and then it disappeared from sight when my eyes closed. I also remembered hearing sounds that weren't right. 

I have a lot of questions, how could I pass out? How I missed 7 years and my mom. She is still alive. It's not that I wasn't happy but I just couldn't make any sense. I looked at my twins picture. They were now with their father. I gave birth to them during my coma. How is that? I tried asking my mother about what happened and she said Ethan already knew about my pregnancy and he mixed something in the wine that night due to which I started getting hallucinations. I hate him. I really hate him and I wanted my twins back. 

It hurt, I realized. The pain, loneliness, anger and hatred that have engulfed me since then. It has been seven years. Seven years where everything seemed to be turning upside down again. The pain is constant, I feel like someone's punching holes deep inside of my soul. I don't remember when I stopped crying. I don' t remember when my mom stopped crying either. All I know is that I wake up in a pool of tears and vomit everyday. I feel like I can't sleep. I cannot eat.

I miss my babies. The doorbell chimes loudly into my apartment. I get up from my seat on the couch and open the door. There stands a familiar face. I smile slightly and allow them entrance before leading them into my bedroom. My bedside table is filled with pictures of my kids and the twins.  I grab a photo of Ethan holding my twins on each side and hand it to the male alpha.

"I wanted to know what happened over the past 7 years," I said firmly. 

"It's not about your past life with Ethan,"  he says while handing me the photo and pulling a chair next to my bed to sit down. "It's about you being here at this point." I put the photo down on the desk beside me and stared ahead blankly as he began.