Eighteen

Whisper blinked her eyes open, wincing at the sunshine and the pain in her hands. She felt dried tears on her cheeks and her throat hurt, but most of all, it was the fear that made her whimper. "Easy, little wolf."

She felt the rumble from the voice underneath her and stiffened, terrified for a moment of where she was and who she was with. She had not thought about that time right before she was taken to the facility, had wanted to forget all about it. Her body could still recall the overwhelming pain it went through at the age of nine, could still hear and see the horrible scenes that played like a movie within her head. The only difference between her hallucination and the past was the hallucination the men knew where she was and who she was with.

Slowly, so slowly, she looked up at the face that she heard spoke and met the blue eye and relieved expression. She saw how tired he looked, and how rumpled his hair was, saw how they were in the truck and she was on top of him, in the driver's seat, somewhat leaning back so she wasn't squished between his body and the steering wheel. Looking down, she saw her hands fisted between her and his chest and opened them. Blood was caked under her fingernails and on her palms, a few drops on the shirt he was wearing as well. She winced again.

"Here," Zane said and gently grabbed one of her hands and wiped it off a wet cloth he got somewhere. Whisper watched as he cleared away the blood so she could see the half-moon marks she made. She only winced when he rubbed against the small wounds, but otherwise kept still. When he was finished, he put his arms back around her, staring at her quizzically. "If you want to fall apart, go ahead. We aren't in any rush to be anywhere anytime soon," he said, as if he knew she was ready to break into tears.

Swallowing hard, she fisted her hands in his shirt and pulled herself closer to him. "I'm scared, Zane. I'm scared of everything."

"Want to tell me what happened?" he asked softly, brushing a lock of hair from her eyes.

She shook her head quickly. "No! I can't tell you! I don't want to tell you!"

He made her look into his sincere eyes and said, "Whatever it is, Whisper, it's not going to make me hate you. I won't send you back to the hospital. I won't let anyone take you away. I won't leave out in the cold and drive away. Whatever happened, however it happened, it wasn't your fault. It isn't going to change my mind about helping you and keeping you safe. Whatever you're seeing or have experienced, it will not stop me from doing what I am already doing."

Whisper nuzzled her face in his neck, feeling his warm skin against hers. "There were three of them. Him and his two friends that seemed to be there every night. My mom never knew this happened, never came to check on me. I was never allowed out of the house unless it was when they took me miles away in privacy so no one heard the screaming."

Zane stroked her back, silently encouraging her to continue, letting her know he was there and she was safe, that he wouldn't leave her. After a moment, she fell limp against him, eyes squeezed shut, images flickering through her mind.

She continued. "It wasn't this bad before. Never this bad…"

[DREAM]

Whisper had just seen her mother's lifeless face, white and staring sightlessly up at the cloudy sky. She was forced to walk in on the bloody scene by one of his friends, being framed for something she did not do. She didn't even know what happened, just saw the jagged wounds across her body and the blood pooling about her, dripping out of her mouth in a steady dribble. She couldn't believe death could look so grotesque.

She had just knelt beside her mother, just started crying and lifting her head into her lap when he walked in and went off on her. As he started hitting and kicking her, people came in, surrounding them in a semi circle with disgusted faces. They all believed it was her fault, all believed him when he said she was a vicious, rabid creature who needed to either be detained or put down. No one bothered to stop him from dragging her out of the shelter and tying her to a post outside. One of his friends handed him the whip, his other friend stripping Whisper of her clothes, all the while, cutting her deeply with the knife.

She didn't feel the pain as much this time, didn't feel the whip lash against her back in harsh slices. The pain of losing her mother was worse, the pain of losing the only person who had ever loved her taking over the fear of what was to come. Her mother didn't deserve to die, didn't deserve to be killed at such a young age. She was good, sweet, kind, caring. Everything a mother should be. A friend to everyone, never showing aggression to those who mean her harm. She didn't deserve to be mutilated the way she had been.

After a while, the people started to disperse, getting bored with the punishment. But not him or his two friends. Once the people no longer noticed them or Whisper, he took her over his shoulder and carried her away into the forest. His friends in toe. She didn't care what would happen. She didn't care what people thought anymore. She was ready to give up, to find peace in the next life and to never look back. Some would think she was a coward because of her decision, but how is she a coward when she is taking someone else's punishment, for being blamed for someone else's crimes? How is she the coward?

She didn't start caring until she saw him take off his pants. And it was like something snapped, something she didn't know existed within herself. She didn't just struggle this time, she fought—teeth, nails, fists, kicks, the whole nine yards. Once, she was able to get a dozen feet away, but never again. Their bodies were like stone—unbreakable, hard, and unfazed by whatever she did to escape. Of course, she was only nine years old; a small child who had more baby fat than muscle.

Once they finally got her tied up again, he grabbed her small waist and mercilessly took advantage. She screamed in pain: so much pain her body couldn't handle. Between her whipping wounds on her back and the multiple old ones she opened up when fighting, her body was overwhelmed in agony. She finally admitted to herself that she hated this man and his friends. She finally admitted that no matter if he took her in, she wished him a painful death when his time came, and she hoped it was soon. Her heart was filled with so much hatred, so much darkness from this one man alone, that right then and there she felt something deep inside let go.

His friends each took a turn at her, using as much force as they could muster. Whisper continued to scream her pain and hatred, continued to feel something stir within her, like a beast taking form and preparing for blood. She began to feel an unsettling calm take hold, and she held still for the men. As dusk turned into night, they grew bored of her silence. So, they released her and put a collar on her, stating she'd stay outside for the night. He didn't get far after letting her go for she grew claws and scraped them down his chest, creating deep gashes similar to the ones they made on her back. She made sure to make a checker board out of his body until something hit the back of her head and she fell into darkness.

When she woke up the next day, she wasn't in the forest, wasn't in her own bed, didn't hear him crashing about the shelter demanding her to get up. Instead, she saw white. At first, she wondered if she was dead, if she finally had peace. She wondered if her life was finally done and over with, if she could go see her mother now and beg her to tell Whisper who killed her.

When the first person walked into her room, Whisper smiled and greeted them, only to feel pain take her breath sharply away. Did death even have pain? She wasn't sure, but as long as she never had to see him again, she was perfectly fine. But the woman did not smile, did not greet her with a hello, and did not take her to her mother. Instead, she ordered for Whisper to get dressed so that in five minutes, they could have a meeting.

Whisper did as she was told, and walked with the woman to a conference room. When the door opened and she was ushered inside, her heart sank. He was sitting in a chair, lazily grinning at her. Whisper took her seat across the table from him, as far away as she could get without leaving the table completely. The woman introduced herself as Hystola who would oversee Whisper's hospitality in the facility. He filled out paperwork concerning Whisper's medical issues, state of mind, and regular information like name, age, DOB, etc. When he finished, the two adults shook hands and he left, giving her a wicked grin and said she'd have fun here.

After he left, Hystola took Whisper back to her room and gave her the thick binder of rules and the daily schedule she'd have to follow and memorize by the end of the week. When supper was served that night, Whisper threw a temper tantrum about how disgusting the food was and how she wanted grilled steak instead. She was gifted with a 'minor' punishment for her behavior: no food at all for a month. Her punishments grew in severity throughout that first week as she fought for everything she wanted but could not have. When she grew so weak from hunger and blood-loss, she finally fell onto her bed and cried: grieving for her mother, wishing the agony would go away, wanting to see her best friend again, wanting a normal life, wishing he had not done what he had to her.

As she grew older, the less she fought. Only occasionally, she'd try to convince them somehow to let her have something. But she never saw him again, which was a relief in and of itself. She grew quiet and reserved, drawn into herself more than the world. For about a year, she only had nightmares, but since no one was there to tell her they weren't real, they grew into hallucinations. These hallucinations would occur at any time, anywhere. Something always triggered them, but Whisper wasn't sure if it was her environment or her memories that surfaced frequently. Hystola never thought that her life before was maybe horrific, but decided Whisper was doing it on purpose. So, she took her to Room 101 for special treatment. They never stopped though, and Whisper never forgot him.

[End of Dream]

When Whisper finally finished telling her story, she did as Zane offered and cried. She let out all her pain, all her anger and hatred through the tears running down her cheeks. She let Zane hold her close and whisper sweet things into her ear, truths about the future and what was going to happen. He gave her promises some might say were impossible to keep, but he claimed he'd make sure every one of them were true. Stroking her back and hair, he did not take her shopping that day, did not deal with important matters concerning other people, and did not answer his phone once. He just held her, comforting her every time she burst into tears again and again. She savored the time they had together, savored the welcoming relief of having someone understand her story without taking a weapon and using it on her. Whisper savored every moment of his arms were about her using gentle gestures and heartfelt words.