The Torture

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        "I don't know what you mean Alpha." Came out my confused reply.

         I did understand what he was talking about. I just didn't have enough working brain cells at the moment to give him an answer.

         "Is that a no, to cooperation?" At this point, the veins in his forehead are starting to get visible.

            "Okay, take her out and put her in cell 6c ." Now, this is a sentence I can understand without a problem even with the last of my brain cells.

             "No please, Alpha." I started to beg.

             I looked at the other werewolves that came with him to see if any of them could show me sympathy that would be enough to get me out of this situation but none of them looked like they cared. My eyes drifted towards the figure standing at the back assessing the situation.

             With every fiber in me, I wished for the Alpha King to come to my rescue since he was the only one with enough authority and power to stop Alpha Stephan. He only stared back at me with blank eyes and a straight face devoid of any type of emotion.

            He actually looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. I can at least understand how he is feeling even if we both have completely different reasons for detesting this hell of a place.

             If I go to cell 6c I know the chance of me coming out alive is as close to zero as it can get. I just can't understand what I did to deserve any of these treatments.

            Is it such a bad thing to be lucky for once in my miserable life?

             I was now visibly shaking. I must look so pathetic at this moment. But am about to lose the life I preserved for so long, just so I can keep on breathing. I didn't endure the pack degrading treatment just to die in this filthy prison.

           "Take her out." Alpha's booming command came before I could take a deep breath.

           "Alpha, please" I begged as two of the prison guards dragged me away as if they didn't know me.

            Once we reached the cells they threw me in like I was a piece of rug. How could people change this fast? They used to play with me when I was young since they worked with my father.

            The room would have been pitch-black if not for the hanging bulb that eliminated the darkness. There is a chair with shackles in the middle of the room and chains coated with silver bolted to the right side of the wall.

            The room was occupied with an unpleasant odor.  Combination of vomit, wolfbane, sweet, and blood. I wonder how many people got to walk out alive after being torched here.

             In came Hades the scariest wear-wolf in our pack with two whips in his hand.  He is the integrator and torcher before the Alpha takes over. I have heard a lot of stories about him. He is a 6'6" giant with scars covering most of his visible skin. His eyes look like they are that of a dead man. No emotions or feelings can be seen in them they are just blank.

              They call him the Will breaker since everybody who is lucky enough to survive after being tortured by him will have a hard time coping with everyday life.

             He was every kid's nightmare and I was of course not an exception. My mother used to make me eat food or do my chores by saying she will call him if I don't eat.

             Other kids grew up being scared of the non-existing boogyman, the kids in our pack had the living and breathing Hades to scare us into eating and behaving just the way our parents wanted us to.

               "Am I going to die?" My pathetic question made me feel bad for myself. I want to keep on living but I hated myself for begging to keep on living the pathetic excuse of a life that I have been living.

            After my mom's death, especially after the incident with my dad, I haven't been living; I have just been existing. There is an enormous difference between existing and feeling or being alive.

             I have been living a life without purpose, meaning, or any sort of delight for the past two years. Deep down in my heart even when I felt like giving up when I felt worthless when I couldn't see the use of being alive other than being a burden; what kept me going is the hope of being able to see a better tomorrow.

             Tomorrow where I was not rejected, tomorrow where I was someone, tomorrow where I lived with purpose, tomorrow where I laughed, tomorrow where I felt happy, tomorrow where I was glad to be alive, tomorrow where I had family and friends to back me up.

             With the way I was being treated, the fact that I was alive felt like a sin. But there is always that satisfaction that we all wait to see even if it means we have to keep on getting up even when we are being stamped on and that is the fall of our enemy.

            I am not nice and naive enough to say I never wanted this pack to suffer for what they did to my family because I did. Countless times and I have always wished to be there for the last moment even if it meant I suffer with them.

             They beat me to it though. They are going to enjoy my suffering just as they have been and now they are going to be able to see my end.

             I find myself hating myself for the choices and the life that I have lived more and more with each breath. Looking into their eyes, listening to their demeaning words, and still not being able to do anything.

            I should have taken the chance and ran away to look for my father. Being afraid of the unknown and the desperation to keep on breathing so I can see tomorrow has held me back all my life.

           If I am able to get out of this prison alive the first thing I am going to be doing is to make a perfect plan and run away to find my dad.

          I wished for another luck to grace me with its appearance. But my luck must have run out since it just kept on getting worse with each wish, prayer, and hope that I made to be able to see tomorrow.

             Hades seemed unbothered and immune to my continued and unyielding begging for mercy or a second chance. He looked indifferent to the unstoppable painful screams that were coming out of my mouth.

           With every stroke of wiping that my body received strength was drained out of me. My blood was gashing out deciding to abandon me as if it can keep on circulating for long without me.

           The whip that he used was long enough for him not to lose too much of his strength but short enough for him to be able to deliver with strength and efficiency causing excruciating pain. Every time the nail at the end of the whip strings reached my body it tore pieces of my flesh away.

          "What..."I started gasping to get enough air into my brain so I can be able to finish my question. " Would torturing me help you accomplish?" I said with a weak and shaky sound. The anger and pain that I was feeling were evident. Blood was voluntary coming out of my mouth.

            At some point, I figured he rather enjoyed what he is doing. He is one sick person. How can one enjoy the suffering and torture of the innocent? I could not understand the logic of what they are doing or what they hope to achieve because I am as clueless as they are.

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Sorry for the late update. My life had been hectic these couple of months but let's be honest whose hasn't? But excuses aside I will try to update as fast as I can from now on.

Thank you for reading my book. Please make sure to Vote, Comment, and Follow or else...........

I leave it to your wonderful imaginations.

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