Broken Bonds

Chapter 1: All Black

My heart is black.

Pain,

Loss,

Self destruction;

These are the only things I feel now.

Should I really be caring for this pack? Should I really be working in this clinic day in and day out, watching these families that care so much for each other, watching the little lives that are growing in their mothers' protruding bellies, wishing so badly that I were in their place?

I'm watching these never ending cycles. One pup growing, one pup born. I deserve this torture. I deserve to watch and despair in my own black misery.

I've painted my hair black today. The outside almost matches the inside now... almost.

I'm not allowed around Nox anymore. He has a mate now. She's so beautiful and I wish I could take back the nasty things I said to her in the beginning. I wish I could be her friend, if only to smell his scent on her more often, the scent that is so similar to his, to the man I betrayed.

I'm sick.

Demented.

I shouldn't be caring for her, giving her advice, watching my would be niece and nephew grow steadily. I don't blame her for making me sip everything I give her first. I would make me do that too.

I sleep alone now, no warm body next to me. We never gorged ourselves in each others' bodies after that one disastrous night. We were only friends who took comfort in having someone beside us. Now we're not even friends and I can only smell that scent so similar from a distance. I can't lie next to him and pretend he's Huxley anymore. Now I have to live with the fact that he's not here, that he isn't coming back. That it's my fault he left.

I'm meeting Reed today. He's from a close by pack. I've known him for a while now. He thinks I'm a slut.

I don't blame him. My whole pack does too even though I haven't had sex since that night.

"So, we fighting today or fucking?" He's cocky. We've met so many times before for this that I've started to lose count.

"Fighting." Always the same answer.

"Then why do you always dress like a whore?" Always the same reply.

I go first, running and ramming my fist into his dirty mouth. My skimpy dress does nothing to hide what little curves I have. I don't want a barrier to soften the impact he's going to make on me.

He spits blood on the ground. "Made me bite my tongue you bitch." He backhands me. We don't usually go for the faces, but the pain is welcoming. I want my outside to be entirely black, just like my inside.

I don't fight anymore as he beats me senseless, giving me what I want. Bruising me. When it's done, I don't have any broken bones, as usual and he leaves right after per our agreement.

I let him take his anger problems out on me, he gives me the pain I need, the pain I deserve for what I've done. For the people I've hurt.

I pick myself up and drag myself back to my room above the clinic. No one sees me. I undress and look at the damage in the mirror. "Not good enough." I say to myself. I'm not bruised everywhere. I still have some open spaces, places where the skin is pure white, not discolored like I want. I run my fingertip across the jagged scar on my chest, right over my heart; the tattoo of the honey bee is marred by it. I don't deserve to be his honey Bee.

I don't bother dressing. I hop straight into bed and let the blackness take over.