CHAPTER SEVEN

I floated between waking and sleep, the world hazy outlines of shadows and light melding together even memory passing through my hand like water over stones.

I felt far away from everything, my body lifeless but for the monotone throb that surged in time with blood backlash.

My eyelids were so heavy that from time to time they might as well have been cemented shut, my entire face seemed stitched together with lead.

But for a minute, I didn't think that I had escaped alive. I had one memory, the very final moment of my life where I lay on a hard dark forest floor that never seemed to warm up with time, and Sebastian was around me, jaws clenching awkwardly at his throat like some sick child's attempt at metal torques, squeezing painfully tight against my neck.

And in what felt like an instant fear took over because it all made too much sense; this engine must have run out its oil and now wasn't working anymore—for good?

Let me put it this way, I am sure as hell supposed to be dead. Yet somehow, I wasn’t. My mind was slogging slowly through the muddy fog of almost death.

I focused to get past the fog of where I currently was. All I felt was warmth. I was still not laying on the cold, merciless ground.

Instead, I was encapsulated in the warmth, a soft encompassing glow that sank into my very bones and somewhat lessened some of the agony.

I somehow managed to crack back open my eyes slowly and painfully. The light was low, but it still made me squint, and my vision got blurry as I opened my eyes.

I was no longer in the woods. Above me was a wooden ceiling, and on the racks along the walls were books; their spines threw black lines of shadow dancing in candle flame.

The scent of herbs and something sweet, like that air after the rain on a warm afternoon. Where am I? The thought was slow, as if it were someone else's. How did I get here?

I attempted to shift, but my body revolted, wracks of agony tearing through me akin to a thousand cold-sore needles striking into the sore dermis.

I let out a low, harsh groan and bit my lips to prevent myself from crying. My head, my chest, and arms all hurt. I was about as whole as a barbed wire fence that had been ripped apart and quickly nailed together again.

“Shh, it’s okay. Don’t try to move.”

The voice was soft, soothing, and synonymous to that of an angel. It cut through the fog in my mind like a beacon, guiding me back to the present. Slowly, I turned my head, the movement sending another wave of pain crashing over me. I could finally bring her entire face within my field of view, and I blinked, bringing it into focus.

“Hey, I’m Olivia.”

She was sitting beside me, her expression a mixture of worry and relief. Her hair was a dark bun held up loosely, parts framing her face and escaping. Those emerald eyes—the caricature of green that first ensnared me when I met her—now gazed at me with concern.

“Olivia…” My voice was a hoarse whisper, barely more than a breath. It hurt to speak, but I needed to know. “What… what happened?”

Her palm was on my forearm, tender in its touch so as not to push her hand too hard into the areas that I had taken damage.

“Safe,” she murmured gently. “You’re in my house. Found you while I was out in the woods searching for a rare flower for an upcoming project… I dunno how I knew where to look, but I guess fate tied your life’s preservation to my divine intervention. God… they fucked you up so bad. I guess the wild beasts of the woods got to you, huh?”

Her words were all clumped together in my head, and it took a moment to make sense of them. I was in her house. She had found me. Somehow, she had saved me.

The last thing I remembered me in the forest, laying down on the floor hallucinating, my blood soaked on the ground, Sebastian’s wrath ripping through my flesh. I could have sworn that was it, that it was the end— that I would die there, alone and defeated.

But now, to my greatest surprise, I was alive, and for some reason, she was here, tending to my wounds that I thought our pack’s greatest healer couldn’t heal.

"Thank you," I muttered, my mouth’s components barely able to produce the phrase. "For… for helping me."

A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes remained serious. "Don’t mention it. I just did what anyone would do."

And I knew she would argue there were plenty of other people who had been brave enough to roam into the woods, in which case my comeback would be that few, if any at all, ended up sacrificing their lives for a total stranger.

But the words wouldn’t come. Speaking, thinking; it took so much effort. I just lay there, each time feeling less of myself and increasingly exposed in ways I had not experienced such hurt before.

Olivia seemingly noticed my frustration and began to wrap the blanket around me with care, ensuring that I was settled in as perfectly as possible.

“You need to rest…” She whispered, her voice calm. "You've been through a lot. Your body needs to recoup.”

I nodded slightly, although resting felt like an impossibility. But my mind was relentless, lingering in the gaps itself now — dying to piece together how I got here and what kept me alive all this time.

The equivalent of an anaesthetic seeped through me, and I tried not to yield to the weight that crushed my limbs as they dangled at either side; even then, both seemed unbearably heavy displaced endings.

As my mind faded I realized the terrible truth in an unwelcome clarity: I had to prevent her from learning what it was that lived inside me. She had, yes saved my life but she is still human and breakable. She wouldn’t understand. She couldn’t.

---

When I stirred awake hours later to a light pattering of rain against the window, it made for an easing contrast with my throbbing head. It still hurt, but softer; a bone-deep ache.

My breath was difficult, and I could feel the weighty strain with each parting of my eyelids as it slowly closed over me until all there remained were a few faint glimmers in the darkened room.

Olivia was still around, lounging in a chair nearer the window and not looking anything less than alert. She must have felt my awake state then because she shifted to look at me, her green eyes filled with worry.

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was a soft startle.

“Tender,” I confessed quietly, the words thick and broken. "But… better, I think."

She nodded, and I could practically see the burden lifted from her eyes. "That’s good. For a moment, I was actually afraid. You were in like… whatever state when I stumbled on you."

"Whatever it was, I’m grateful. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t come along."

Olivia smiled back, but it was a small, tentative thing, as if she wasn’t quite sure how to take my gratitude. "I’m just glad you’re okay," she said, her voice soft. "But… you were hurt so badly. What happened to you out there?"

It was a question that had been on the horizon forever, and I kind of smelled it coming. That didn't help me to know what that meant though.

Mentally, I scrambled to find something that would answer her question without revealing too much. “Mmmm I… I can't quite recall,” I lied, “it tasted so bitter coming out of my mouth. I went out there, and… that animal. A wolf, I think. It attacked me. After that everything went black, I must have passed out."

Olivia’s eyes grew slightly wider as I saw the concern on her face grow. "A wolf? Are you sure?"

I nodded my head, the best fake smile I could muster. "Yeah. Never… I have never in my….??? But it’s all kind of a blur."

Her frown made it obvious that she knew this was wrong on so many levels, but she dropped the subject. She just took a glass of water from the small table next to the bed and gave it to me. "Here, drink this. You need to stay hydrated."

She handed it to me, and I tried, struggling with too much shaking from the effort of grabbing the glass at all, let alone drinking. When I jumped in, the cool water relaxed my sore throat and cleared some of the fuzz from thinking back to 2016.

It provided little relief, however; the gnawing fear that had settled in my chest wasn't diminished at all. I had lied to her.

But it was hardly a choice, but that did little to make the burden more palatable. This woman had risked her life to save mine, and in turn, I was providing her with half-truths & deception.

But what else could I do? I had no idea how to anticipate her reaction if she ever discovered the truth—If I knew what that really was. And I couldn’t risk it. Not now.

"Thank you," I said quietly, handing the glass back to her. "For everything."

"Stop thanking me," she smiled a little, the concern still present in her eyes. "I’m just glad I could help. But… Are you 100% certain this is all of what happened? No notice of this as what the hell were you doing there?"

I shook my head, trying to keep a straight face. "No. I’m sorry. It’s all… fuzzy." Olivia sighed, all the frustration this time in how she held her back as pictured by me: watching her frowning, trying to find a way through.

Finally, "You know what—maybe you shouldn't remember," she ended, however a little unsure. "Nothing, you're safe now."

Safe. The word felt hollow, empty. Because I was also not safe—not really. And neither was she. But I couldn’t tell her that. Not yet.

"Uhm," I half concurred, faking something that was less than even a light-hearted smile. "Safe."

—

Residing in bed, just staring at the ceiling for hours as one minute turned to an hour waiting and doing nothing else. Olivia remained near, always gentle in a way that was needing me.

She was bringing me food, water; even changed the bandages on my wounds while I attempted to bear keeping all those secrets inside.

Watching her was agony, knowing that if she got any closer to me than fifty yards, I would put more at risk, took every ounce of self-restraint I had.

The more she looked at me with those soft eyes, the less I heard my own no's and instead felt like saying yes to her over sharing.

But I couldn’t. I could not place that burden upon her, the truth of what I was and it would not have been safe to subject her to my existence; where she walked at night, danger crept like an unwholesome shadow.

It was how it should be—for her to believe I had become just another target of some savage beast, for her not to bear witness or know the viciousness that simmered beneath the facade.

Or so I kept telling myself. The fatigue that had been nipping at the edges of my mind all day finally engulfed me, dragging me back down into a current sleep.

It seemed so, my fever was noticed by Olivia as she placed a soft, chill hand on my forehead. The sounds of the world faded, and everything became quiet; I heard her murmur 'Rest' softly in my ear. "You need to sleep. I haven't gone anywhere if you need me."

I wanted to complain, to tell her that I was okay and had no need of a rest. But the words wouldn’t come. But I found my eyes drooping—sleep exerting a greater gravity over me than the dying boy beside us—and slumped against the bed.

My eyelids were getting heavy, but I saw Olivia standing over me, her eyes intent and rooted on mine—eyes that told me she was going to protect me at all costs… And at that point, as sleep overtook me, it was all I could think: How long until she found out the truth?