{Alex}

I'M NOT SURE which thing dragged me away from the comforting weight of sleep--the pain or the fear. Or maybe it wasn't either--maybe it was just the knowing. The knowing that I had been wrong, that it'd hadn't just been a nightmare.

The knowing that I couldn't just wake up this time.

Honestly, it was probably some of all of them. But that night, I chose to focus on the pain, simply because that was the easiest.

I crawled out of bed, biting my lip to hold back the gasp of pain, and slowly convinced my muscles to relax before checking the time on my phone.

"2:38. Shit," I muttered, knowing I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep any time soon. The briefest flash of an image--gray stone, glowing red from the neon sign--flickered across my mind before I could shut it down. A shaky breath escaped as I thought of the pain I'd be in when I stood, but I did anyway.

"Shit," I repeated, feeling my eyes tear up as fiery pain shot through my body. I put a hand on my bedpost, just in case my legs gave out, but after a moment, I stood on my own again. I started moving forward, careful to test the ground before stepping. It'd be just like me to trip on something in the dark and make everyone come running.

I got lucky and made it to my dresser without any casualties, then opened the top drawer and started rifling through my shirts, going by feel rather than sight. I didn't want to risk turning on the light. I pulled a shirt out, trailing my fingers across the surface and swearing when I realized it was short-sleeved. I put it back in, feeling around for another option. My fingers grazed across the cool, beaded surface of my favorite tank top, and I thought I might throw up.

"Where's the money, little girl?" asked a foreign voice. I shuddered as I felt my skin crawl under his hot breath on my neck.

I did my best to ignore him, walking past the alley and fighting the urge to run as far and fast as I could.

"Listen when I talk to you, Mali," the stranger said, voice thick with an accent as he grabbed my wrist.

"My name is Alex, I don't have any money, and you'd better back off before I scream. Cops patrol this area, you know."

I couldn't breathe.

If the air was cool, the stone was fucking freezing. Still, I didn't move away--I could hear my frantic heartbeat pounding in my chest, in my head. I knew that could be gone in an instant.

Holy shit, I really couldn't breathe.

Some part of me wondered if I'd feel it. The last heartbeat--would I know? Would it hurt to leave this world behind?

I yanked my hand away from the shirt like it had burned me, grabbing any random t-shirt and a crumpled hoodie off the floor before bolting towards the bathroom. Even once I was inside with the door locked and the candle lit (turning on the light might have woken someone up, not that it'd really matter--I needed to take a shower, which would make noise), it took me fifteen minutes to steady my breathing. I knew it was stupid to be afraid to go into my own room, but there was something comforting about being alone with the door locked. In here, it didn't matter what I did. In here, no one would touch me. In here, I was in charge.

A few moments later, I was re-lighting the candle, a different set of clothes folded next to the sink beside me. I had a long-sleeved shirt and some yoga pants, as well as clean underwear to change into. I had gotten rid of the hoodie--I needed to wear something clean, something untainted.

I was gripping the fake marble counter, forcing my body to breath as I waited for the water to heat up when I finally realized I'd have to take off my clothes before I could shower. I almost stopped right there, almost gave up this ridiculous idea right then. I mean, really, what was a shower worth? Yeah, it helped me think, but it was two in the morning. I didn't need this, and I really didn't need to see--

"Shit," I said again. I let out another shaky breath before beginning to lift my shirt up. I needed to see the damage--if I had any serious injuries, they'd need to be taken care of before things got worse and I had to go to the doctor.

I kept lifting the shirt, stupidly afraid to open my eyes and see the proof. My muscles and several random spots were shrieking in pain, but that was nothing compared to the sensation of skin on skin.

"What are you doing?" someone asked from the shadows. My heart jumped with anticipation--they'd help me! They'd help me, and I'd get out of this alive, and I'd never, ever agree to do anything like this with Julia again.

"If she doesn't have any money, she's a waste. Kill her."

Terror laced through my veins, and all I could hear were those words over and over.

Kill her, kill her, kill her...

I shut my eyes, pressing harder against the stone, trying to get away from the hand around my throat. Why didn't he just pull the trigger already?

I forced my mind back to the present, finding myself shaking with fear. I looked around, focusing on the heat in the air, the sound of the water. I wasn't back there. I refused to let this take over.

I looked in the mirror, cringing at what I saw. Purple bruises blossoming on my neck, red handprints on my skin, some nasty looking green and yellow spots on my back. I was turning back around when a dark, almost black area almost the size of my fist on my hip. I hesitated before touching it, then letting out a short yelp of pain and jerking my fingers away. I froze, almost afraid to move in case it started hurting again. It must have happened when--

I tried to twist away, fought him kicking and scratching, trying to get at his eyes, trying to do anything to get away. I lunged outward, startling him, and got almost three feet away before he reached out, slamming me into the wall, side first. Black spots danced in front of my eyes, and I nearly screamed in pain as I twisted once again, trying to get away. His hand wrapped around my neck, pinning me to the wall, the stone digging into my back.

"What are you doing?"

I pulled myself out, touching the bruise once again but this time relishing in the pain. Yes, it was proof, but at least it was proof I had fought back.

My gaze swept up and down my body, searching for anything more serious than bruising and occasionally using the mirror. I found dried blood on my legs, but beyond that, my most serious injury was skin-deep--a series of crescent-moon shaped cuts on my upper arm, almost to my shoulder. My nose wrinkled as I realized they must have been caused by his fingernails--he probably didn't even realize it happened, not that he would've cared. My whole body was proof of that.

I touched some of the skin around them, wincing as I watched blood trickle up, beading on the surface. It'd probably be fine with nothing more than a band-aid.

I looked down again, feeling my stomach twist at the sight of the dried blood. I knew that was my most serious problem, but I couldn't bring myself to to deal with it yet. Those wound were still a little too fresh, and the evidence was in every sore and aching movement, every pain-filled moment.

I pushed the curtain aside, stepping into the steaming water. My heart skipped a breath, and I reached for the knob, closing my eyes as I passed directly under the spray.

Normally I hated cold showers, but this time I needed it to think straight. The hot air was too much like his breath.

My eyes were still closed tightly when he growled his next words, his mouth too close for comfort.

"Even if she doesn't have money, she's got other... assets."

I could feel his gaze sweeping up and down my body, but despite how much I wanted to scream, all that came out was a whimper.

"Hush, Mali, or you won't survive the night."

"I swear, only you. You're really going to settle for one of her kind? Besides, we both know she won't survive no matter what."

"Yes, I suppose that's true. But she could still be fun," he responded to the man hidden in shadows. His next words were directed at me. "Don't you want to have some fun?"

I opened my eyes.

"J-just leave me alone. I'll scream," I said, trying to sound fierce but failing.

"You'll be dead before you finish," he said, almost sounding bored, "Though it'd be a shame to waste such a fine opportunity."

My legs finally listened to me and I bolted for the street, listening for anyone who could help me. I made it all of a few feet before he grabbed my arm, nails digging into my skin, and swung me around with insane force. The breath was knocked out of me when I slammed into the wall, but I met his gaze anyway. That's when things got really, truly weird.

His eyes were pure black--not even any white. And I could've sworn they were normal-looking just moments before.

"Now you've really pissed me off."

The cold water snapped me out of it, and I realized I was hunched over, eyes squeezed tightly shut, holding onto the wall for support. I slowly relaxed my muscles, moving into a standing position. I reached for the soap, spending a few minutes too many getting it foamy, partially because I wasn't paying attention and partially because I was procrastinating. I started with my torso, because that meant the least movement at first. Then I moved on to my arms (ow), the nail marks (double ow), bruises (seriously, is there any part of me that isn't in pain?), and legs last. I hesitated before moving slightly, letting out a cry of pain as I did. I slowly started washing away some of the blood, a sense of relief washing over me as it chipped away.

Maybe this was a sign that my life wouldn't be shattered quite as badly as I had first thought.

I dropped to the ground, moaning in pain and trembling in fear as I watched the Shadow Man's boots come forward. He consulted with the man standing above me, and I heard a zipper followed by muted whispers. My mind was only half there, and I could barely think through the pain, but at some point their conversation turned to me.

"Aren't you going to finish her off?"

Please, I thought. Just end it. Just end the pain.

"No. She'll be dead in a matter of minutes anyway--they never survive. Besides, we're due back soon."

They walked away barely a minute later, leaving me curled up in pain on the cold pavement, largely naked. I don't know how long I stayed there, wondering if I really was going to die, but eventually I realized that if I wasn't dead yet, I would be soon.

So I crawled up to my knees, searched with shaking hands for my clothes, and stumbled home, blinded by pain, until I crawled into my bed and cried myself to sleep. Mom and Dad were already fast asleep--they always tried to stay up for me, but they never could.

I wondered if I was going to tell them.

I tried to ignore the pain, but eventually I gave up and just stood there, shivering and wondering why the water trickling into my mouth tasted salty. 

Hey, my darling readers!

Okay, so this was pretty dark, but read Chapter I before you dismiss my story as another cheesy werewolf book. Chapter I has a pretty different writing style, and that's what most of the book will be, so give it a chance.

Comment, vote, and follow please!!

--Earthstone