Anastasia

The coughing rocks my body, burning my lungs as I suck air in, trying to ease the pain. I take shallow breaths as my chest aches, most likely from my cracked ribs. I slowly sit up, but a sharp pain in my knee causes me to sit up quickly, clutching it in pain. My head spins, dizziness taking over and causing me to become nauseous.

As I turn to the side; a mixture of blood and bile comes out of my mouth, unable to hold it back. My throat burns as I retch. "Fuck, that hurt," I groan out. My arms are across my stomach as I hold it.

I look down, noticing the blood-stained jeans. Then I notice the wet ground around me. It must've rained while I was unconscious.

I turn my head up towards the sky and notice the dark stormy sky is clearing. The stars flicker in the night sky, illuminating my way. I glance around me, ensuring no one is near me. "Hello?" I tentatively ask to no one in particular.

When I know the coast is clear, I check myself, ensuring that I will make it back to my cottage. My knee is still tender from where Megan stomped on it, but it seems to be healed enough for me to slowly get to my feet. I groan as my aching muscles pull and burn as I move them after staying in the same position for so long.

My legs wobble as I sluggishly stand-up, my knee clicking with each step I take. The pain causes me to drag my feet towards my cottage. My muscles burn as step I take causes them to pull unnaturally. I grit my teeth, trying and failing to focus on something other than the excruciating pain I endure with each movement. My arm is across my stomach, trying to ease the pain as my hunched form wobbles onwards.

The rustling of the surrounding forest's trees grabs my attention. My ears focus on trying to listen to any secrets the forest will share with me, but like everything else, the forest ignores me. Her trees become silent, almost taunting me as she realizes I am listening. All I hear as the forest goes silent are my uneven footsteps hitting the ground, my labored breath gracing the air, the only sound being heard coming from me.

Always alone.

"Finally," I let out a sigh of relief as I reach the door to my cottage, my hand reaching into my pocket for keys as my other hand braces against it. Leaning on it as I open the door. My only thought at that moment is that I need to bath.

My hands are tentative at taking off my clothes, trying to go slowly, hoping to ease the pain. When I am completely naked, I stare at myself in the mirror. Other than the dried blood on my face, making it barely recognizable and the odd spots along my legs, my body seems to have healed. The bruises already turning a light shade of purple cause me to swear. Knowing that if I run into any of Medeia's lackeys, they will beat me up again.

"Dammit, Ana, you aren't good at anything except healing," I say to myself as I climb into the shower. The hot water soothes my muscles. I focus on the dirty water flowing down the drain, my thoughts drifting.

Wondering why out of all the werewolf blessings an Omega like me could have received, I had to be given the ability to heal faster. Ever since my twelfth birthday, Medeia and her bullying attempts have been getting worse.

Every time she and her lackeys see me, they just beat me harder, hoping the bruises they inflict will remain.

As I climb out of the shower, I hear my phone ringing. Wrapping a towel around me, I go fish it out of my jeans pocket. It's Garett calling, wondering why I hadn't met up with him. I roll my eyes, not wanting to deal with him, and I ignore the call. I check the time, not even caring about all the texts Garett had sent me. "Dammit, I better hurry."

I say out loud as I look at the clock. It's nearly 12am, the realization shocks me. Without even getting dressed, I stumble to the small kitchen, taking the smashed cupcake out of the fridge. It was on one tray at lunch. Someone had just returned it. Having forgotten about the cupcake, disregarding it as rubbish and I shake my head at my stupidity as I forgot about the delicate pastry. Its icing was all over the place, with half of the cupcake not having any.

But that doesn't stop me. I check the time. It is now midnight. I light a match, placing it in the cupcake. Closing my eyes as I blow it out just before it reaches the icing, hoping that for once my birthday wish will come true.

"Happy birthday." I whisper to myself as I stare at the smoke coming from the candle.

I hope I could die out as peacefully as the match did when I blow it out, hoping that I could end my own life as I did the matches.

I stare at the cupcake, looking at the beautifully destroyed thing in front of me. My eyes then move to my wrist, seeing the scars on them. My failed attempts to fulfill my only wish, but that stupid healing ability of mine seems to get in the way, always preventing me from finishing the job. It leaves me with the horrid reminder of how useless I am.

The scars remind me of the wishes I've made over the years, especially the one on my wrist, the one I made two years ago on this date. The one I did after I wished for my mate to love me. The one I tried and failed not to do. The idea of hurting my mate delayed me to wait for another year.

I slid down to the floor. The towel falling from around me, and I look at the scars on my thighs, the ones I did after each time Medeia and her lackeys bullied me. A sarcastic laugh leaves my mouth as I remember how I wished for them to stop bullying me, how most of my younger self's wishes were in vain.

My eyes catch sight of the biggest scar, running from the top of my thigh down to the top of my now purple knee. My hand traces over it, remembering how I felt when it occurred.

Remembering how I used that year's birthday wish, wishing Jacob would forgive me, hoping he would look past what I did to him, but like always, I was alone.

Not even the universe answered my prayers.

Glancing out the window across from me, I notice the moon shining down, her light illuminating me through the glass. I look over to my phone, noticing a knife next to it. The knife that is always by me.

I hold it in my hand for a few minutes, just staring at my reflection in the blade. It's the only time I see myself. Without a second thought, I grip the blade in my hand, my wrist already turned and waiting.

I grit my teeth as I pierce the skin, the warm liquid pouring down my arm, dripping onto the towel, staining it, but my focus is on the pain. I throw my head back as I finally feel something.

After a few seconds, I move the blade to the middle of my right thigh, cutting across it. I am fascinated by the red liquid oozing out.

I lean back against the wall. My eyes closing and focusing on the pain, hoping that the pain will keep my nightmares away.