Agony fell short; she was shattered.
Charlotte, a werewolf, endured relentless abuse, leaving her utterly fractured. Austin, her supposed mate, subjected her to constant mistreatment and even infidelity.
In a daring escape, she fled, only to encount...
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I woke up in the dead of night, reaching out for Charlotte, only to find the cold, empty sheets where she should have been.
Instantly, panic coursed through me, my mind racing with terrifying thoughts of someone taking her or her running away.
"No, please, I don't want to die! I'm not a burden!" A voice screamed from outside, and I recognized it as Charlotte's.
With a surge of alarm, I shot out of bed and raced towards the source of her cries, finding her in the kitchen, her back turned to me, her voice echoing through the room. It didn't take long for me to see what she was doing.
She didn't feel my presence yet as I saw her staring at the knife intensely like she couldn't control her hands from keeping the knife away from her.
Tears were flowing out of her eyes and my first instinct was to grab the knife away from her before it pierced her heart.
The metal knife dropped to the floor with a screeching sound as it touched the marble floor.
She looked as pale as chalk, her eyes and mouth frozen in a shocked expression, as though she had just come to her senses about what she had been doing moments ago.
Slowly, she sank to her knees, drawing her legs close to her chest, and the tears began to flow. Each tear that fell shattered my heart into pieces.
Rocking back and forth on the floor, she seemed oblivious to my presence, lost in her own world of anguish.
I approached her, gently pulling her into my arms. It was agonizing to witness her like this, and all I could offer was the solace of my embrace, allowing her tears to saturate my shirt. Her clenched fists reflected the inner turmoil, torn between anger and despair.
Her silent screams echoed within, suppressed by pride. I ran my fingers through her hair repeatedly, attempting to soothe the silent battle raging in her mind.
I couldn't comprehend it; her actions made no sense. It was as if someone else was dictating her actions, and she had no control.
Her tears eventually subsided as we sat there, her crying and me comforting, both of us baffled by the inexplicable ordeal.
She rested her head on my chest, her sniffles fading into silence. Her breathing slowly found a steady rhythm, indicating she had drifted into sleep.
I carried her back to our room, the sun rising as I entered my office.
"Didn't sleep last night? You look like a panda!" John remarked with a teasing grin.
"Didn't. Charlotte was doing it again and if I hadn't stopped her in time, the knife could have pierced into her heart. I really don't know what to do." I said as I put my head on the table.
"I think you should consider bringing her to therapy," John suggested.
"Why can't she just talk to me? She trusts me more than some therapist, and you think she'd want a stranger to pry into her thoughts?" I snapped, frustration welling up at the idea that Charlotte might not confide in me
"It's just a suggestion, but she seems to be exhibiting signs of depression," John said calmly as he settled into a seat.
"Depression? I'll keep an eye on her and see. If it persists, and if she's open to it, I'll consider therapy," I responded with a sigh.
"Speaking of her, I'm going to check if she's awake," I added before closing the office door.
I harbored hope that she could heal on her own and that I'd be there to support her every step of the way. My goal was to help her transform into a strong, independent luna.
I opened our door slowly to find her at the corner of the room, her head knocking to the wall hard, as blood seeped out of her forehead.
