Chapter 95
Was it already that time of the year? I knew that there was always the annual celebration of the peace pact between the two bordering communities and my pack, but I hadn’t known for what or who were involved. It was never held in the pack, but in either of the communities.
My parents, and siblings when they had come of age in the last two years, had usually gone to these annual celebrations, leaving me alone in the house during the period. They stayed for two to three days before they come back, excited and happy. And although it got lonely sometimes, you know staying at home alone, I had still fancied it because then I was free from bullying, from academic activities-since school was always put on hold then, and from my siblings’ cruel taunts.
Once I had asked my mother about why I wasn’t able to go. Why I was always left behind with the underaged in the pack, and a few invalids. Was I not worthy to see the communities at least? She hadn’t given me an answer. She had ended up stuttering after a long silence, before asking me to go away and get her something from her room.
But I had already knew the answer. It was obvious, but I had gone ahead to make her uncomfortable. I felt bad after that, and never queried her about the matter. The answer though had been the usual. I had no wolf gene. My pack was ashamed of me. And since I couldn’t fight either if the peace pact was to turn to a battle ceremony, why bring me along? I wa so useless in my pack that I hadn’t been enrolled into the training program like my siblings. I didn’t blame them though. As I mentioned earlier, no wolf, no usefulness.
So, this year’s ceremony would be held in the pack? I would see Adam and his brothers? I would relive the events of that night again? Do I have to go?
Too engrossed in my thoughts, I didn’t notice that my hands were beginning to shake rapidly and that I was beginning to hyperventilate, I don’t notice that my breathing has gone raggard and that I was struggling to breath, because all I could think of was that night, the night when I had been killed. Yes, killed. I knew that I died that night. The goddess had just being merciful to send me back.
I wasn’t aware when I sat alone on the near floor of my dimly lit room, the weight of the memories pressing heavily upon me. It had been months since that fateful night, but the scars, both physical and emotional, were still etched deep within me. The events of that night had shattered my trust, leaving me vulnerable and broken.
As I clasped my fingers tightly around each other unconsciously, the room seemed to close in around me. The air grew thick, suffocating my senses, and my heart quickened its pace than before. My breath became shallow, and my hands trembled uncontrollably. I could feel the tendrils of panic slowly creeping up my spine, threatening to consume me.
In my mind’s eye, the memories played like a horror movie on repeat. I remembered the warmth of his smile, the tenderness in his touch. He had been the one I had trusted the most, the one I had allowed myself to fall in love with. But that night, everything had changed.
Three men, including the one I had loved, had turned against me. Their betrayal had been swift and brutal, leaving me battered and bruised, both physically and emotionally. They had shattered my sense of safety and security, leaving me to question everything I had believed in.
As the memories flooded back, I felt a surge of anger and fear intertwine within me. The pain I had buried deep within my soul resurfaced, raw and unyielding. The panic tightened its grip around me, threatening to pull me under its suffocating weight.
I desperately tried to regain control, my mind racing with thoughts of escape. But the panic was relentless, its grip tightening with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, the sound echoing in my ears, drowning out all rational thought.
In a desperate attempt to find solace, I turned to the coping mechanisms I had read about in books at one time. I closed my eyes and focused on my breath, attempting to slow down the rapid pace of my heartbeat. But the memories continued to assault me, each one more vivid and painful than the last.
The panic attack reached its peak, and I felt as if I was being pulled into a vortex of darkness. The room spun around me, and a wave of nausea washed over me. I clutched my chest, gasping for air, desperately trying to hold on to reality.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the panic began to subside. My breathing gradually steadied, and the room slowly came back into focus. I was left feeling drained, as if a storm had passed through me, leaving destruction in its wake.
As I sat there, tears streaming down my face, I realized that healing from such a traumatic event would take time. The scars may never fully fade, but I was determined to reclaim my life and find strength in my vulnerability.
With that resolve, came awareness. I became aware of Diana shaking me, I heard her calling for her mother.
At first her voice was as if from far, soft as if she was beckoning on me from a far land, but as I tried to follow her voice, needing to be out of my dangerous memories, her voice got louder, frantic. She was sobbing even.
It was then I raised my eyes up and saw Laura and Peter.
I looked at myself. I was on the floor, on my buttocks. Had Diana pushed me to the floor so that I could get myself? Latest content published on.net
“What happened, Diana?” Laura asked a sobbing Diana who kept heaving in and out to control her tears.
I wasn’t sure what happened so I don’t offer to speak, mostly for fear that I would get drowned in my memories again. I wanted to excuse myself, but that would seem suspicious. I already told them that I didn’t remember anything.
“She had a panic attack when I told her about the annual peace pact ceremony that would be held at the lycan’s king pack.” Diana stated, getting up from the ground.
She had fallen to the ground with me too.