My Secrets

Scarlett

" W hy aren't you sleeping, Indy?" I ask, looking at Indy, who is hugging her stomach as she tosses and turns.

She looks up at me, her eyes filled with tears. "I'm hungry, Scarlett."

Papa said we are being punished. He said we can't have food for five days it's only been two. I hug her tightly as she begins crying; I want to cry too, but I have to be strong.

Mama is in bed again – Papa had punished her for being disrespectful. Whenever she is punished, she will be in bed for many days, but I know that already, I get punished too. But I won't tell anyone. If I do, my papa promised he will do the same to Indigo that he does to me, and if he does that, it'll hurt her too much.

I hug her tightly, never wanting her to suffer the way me and Mama are. It is my job to protect my baby sister.

"I'll go get you food, Indy." I kiss her forehead, and she nods, happiness lighting up in her eyes.

"Really? Please bring me lots and water, I'm thirsty."

"I will." I stand up, swallowing. I'm brave, but I'm going to be disobeying Papa, and if he finds out… my lip quivers in fear as I take a deep breath and look at Indigo. "If I don't return, Indy, do not leave this room. Do not cry and do not shout for me. If anyone asks you about me, you don't know where I went. Ok, Indigo?"

She simply blinks at me, her eyes filling with worry.

"Scarlett, I don't want you to go then. What if Papa finds out?" She shudders, clutching her stomach as she begins crying. "But I am hungry too."

I smile at her, stroking her hair. "Don't worry, Indy, I will bring you food, ok? Papa is on a business trip, he won't be home until tomorrow."

She nods and I quietly leave the room, unable to stop the terror that seeps through me.

I peer down the huge, dark, looming hallways as I walk through the silent halls. It is dark, night has fallen long ago, thunder and lightning flash in the sky outside. I have no idea what time it is, but if it's quiet, it must be very late.

That's good, I can quickly sneak inside and get what I need. My heart pounds in fear. Papa is out on business and should not return for the next two nights, but I am still breaking the rules by being here. Indigo is just so hungry.

I will quickly sneak to the kitchen, get some bread, and then rush back to the attic.

Papa found me.

Papa was there.

Papa saw me stealing.

I know what is coming the moment he enters the horror room. This is what he calls my special punishment room, and it's where it hurts the most.

I cry softly, begging him to forgive me, promising that I will not do it again, but he doesn't care.

"Now… what shall we play today?" he asks, grabbing my hair and suddenly I feel burning pain at the back of my neck, making me scream.

His terrifying laugh fills the air as I try not to cry out.

"How fascinating..." he murmurs.

Sometimes I can tell he enjoys this, and sometimes it makes him angry. I don't know what I did wrong to upset him. I quiver in fear when he picks up some long screws.

"We should never ever steal, don't you agree?" he whispers. Grabbing me by my hair, he drags me to the big table.

He yanks me onto it, and I hit my nose on the hardwood as blood sprays everywhere, making pain rush through me.

It hurts, Mama, help me! Please, somebody help me!

He's going to hurt me with those screws! Help me!

But no one ever comes.

"These hands of yours really should learn to not steal!" He takes the screw, and I cower before he stabs it into my hand.

I scream in agony, but Papa doesn't stop. Not until each finger is pierced with a screw. I sob in pain, my hands now stabbed with many screws. It hurts so much.

"Please, Papa, I promise I won't steal again!" I cry.

"Did I say you could speak?" Papa shouts, his eyes blazing in rage. He bangs my head again, and he keeps on doing it. I feel sick and dizzy.

Why does he hurt me? Why does he hate me?

" S-sorry…" I whimper as he keeps slamming my face. The screws scrape my face, and I keep moving my head, not wanting them to hurt my eyes.

"You were made for this! Do you hear me? The only reason you were given to me was for my entertainment! I should have been given an heir! An Alpha!" Papa shrieks.

I say no more. I know when he becomes like this, there is nothing more to say. He will only stop when he's had enough.

Is this why the Goddess made me? Mama said she loves us but I don't think she does.

The pain rushes through my entire body, dizzying me. He throws me and I scream as the screws that have my hands trapped to the table are ripped off and the pain gets worse in my hands, spreading through my arms and neck. I scream in agony. It hurts so much!

"You useless little bitch. I think I will tell your mother you're gone for a few weeks for training, don't you agree?" he hisses, slamming the hammer down on my knees. The sickening sound of bones being crushed rings loud in my ears. I sob silently. My entire body screaming in pain. My heart hurts. The pain is dizzying. I can't breathe.

Please, someone help me. I'll be a good girl!

Please… please… somebody…

Anybody, please…

But he does not stop. Even when I huddle into a ball, trying to tell myself I am ok – that nothing is happening, it doesn't stop. My eyes tightly shut, Papa continues his screaming abuse.

"Let's just see how much you can take! Maybe you are better off dead!"

I'm beginning to lose feeling. I prefer this; I try to focus on my safe place. In the far corner of my mind, there's a place I can go where no one can hurt me.

As I struggle to get there, failing with every blow he delivers, I wonder if I am a bad person. I must be for him to punish me like this.

Just when I'm trying to picture my happy place, he shakes me violently, making my eyes fly open.

"You're a fucking freak!" he spits. I try not to cry when he begins to cut my arms and legs with a big knife. He slams his fist across my head, making black spots appear in front of me before he begins stabbing my back.

Everything is going dark, and I want it to take me. I want to escape from here.

Suddenly he throws the knife down, the clang making my heart thunder in fear.

"You were hungry, weren't you?" he asks, now dragging me around to face him. He begins stroking my hair and I freeze. When he does something that is meant to be caring, it means he is going to do worse.

"Let me go get you food," he whispers, placing a soft kiss on my forehead. My lip quivers as he leaves the room quickly. My body is in agony, and I wish I would just die. Is hell as painful as this? I'd rather the Goddess just send me to hell. I just wish I knew what I did wrong. If I knew, I promise not to do it ever again.

I hear the door opening, and through my blurred vision, I can see Papa standing there.

"Look, I got you some food, princess," he says. I look up. He has a pot in his hand. Through the dim lighting, I see him open it.

He's giving me food. I'll keep some for Indy! Have I been a good girl today that he wants to give me food?

"Say thank you," he orders as he glares at me, his eyes turning dark green once again as he towers above me.

"Th-thank you, Papa," I whisper. A scary smile crosses his lips and for a moment, I wonder if it is a trick.

"Here." He raises the jar and suddenly pours its contents onto me. Stinging, agonising pain erupts from my wounds and I scream as the powdery substance hits me, the strong smell of chilli flakes hits me as it clings to my open wounds.

I scream again, rubbing my eyes. It hurts so much! Please, someone help me!

I writhe and scream in pain, scratching at my eyes and arms, trying to rid myself of the pain. I hear Papa laughing manically.

"Sleep well, princess," his voice is distant before I hear the door shut and I'm left alone, crying and screaming as I convulse in pain on the cold hard floor.

"Scarlett!"

My eyes fly open and I gasp, the fear pounding in my chest. My entire body is aching as I wrap my arms around myself, and it takes me a few seconds to realise I'm not in that dark torture chamber.

It was so vivid… I let out a shuddering breath.

"Red…" Elijah's hands rub my arms soothingly and I take a deep breath. The side of my neck is aching, as if I have been stung by several wasps at the same time.

I reach up and touch it gingerly, frowning when I feel the heat radiating from the spot.

What happened?

Elijah takes my hands, encasing both in his as he kisses them tenderly, making my heart skip a beat. I've never seen him look so… vulnerable.

"How are you feeling, Kitten?" he asks softly, cracking that sexy trademark smirk of his, making me smile slightly, welcoming the warmth that fills my chest.

"You look worried, I'm liking the concern, maybe I should get hurt more often," I attempt a weak joke, but the pain and anguish in his eyes surprise me. Since when did Elijah display such strong emotions in his eyes?

"If you want me to show you concern, I'll make sure to, day and night. Don't ever think about getting hurt though," he growls lowly, but it is more the sound of an unhappy wolf than an angry snarl.

"What happened?" I ask. I can't remember much.

"It's a long story," he replies quietly.

"So, tell me, were you worried?" I ask softly as he gets up and sits on the bed next to me, one leg on the floor, as he faces me completely.

"That is the fucking understatement of the century," he sighs, cupping my face with one hand, the other still holding my hands. "Fuck, Red, you could have been killed." He looks into my eyes before his gaze flickers to my lips.

"You're beginning to make me think you care, Elijah," I whisper.

His eyes soften. "You have no fucking idea how I feel, Red."

"Then show me," I whisper, wanting to feel his plush lips against mine. I don't need to ask twice. He instantly leans in, his lips claiming mine in a sizzling, passionate kiss. He holds my hand to his chest, his other hand cupping the back of my head tenderly. His kiss drowns out the pain in my neck.

His touch is tender. Despite the passion and emotions that burn deep into the kiss, there's something about this kiss; one that makes my heart pound wildly.

I try to keep up, but I can't. Either I'm too tired or he is simply too fast, kissing me as if this is the last time he'll ever get the chance to. Our hearts are racing, and everything is so heightened that I can even hear the quietest sound of our lips meeting. Along with our soft sighs and breathless intakes, which are the only things that can be heard in the room.

His tongue slips into my mouth, exploring every inch, before he sucks on my tongue dominatingly, his grip on me tightening. I moan against his lips, my stomach a mess of butterflies, feeling the familiar ache settling between my thighs, the wetness building, the betraying scent of my arousal filling the air.

He breaks away when I need air, breathing slightly heavily himself. My gaze dips to the front of his pants and I'm satisfied to see I am not the only one turned on. But a light blush still coats my cheeks at the sight of his visible hard-on, making my core throb.

"Don't," he groans when I giggle. "Trust me, I was not thinking about sex."

"I know, I just love how I can affect you so easily," I reply with a smirk. Elijah flashes me a smirk back, but the worry in his eyes remains.

I try to sit up, but Elijah swiftly scoops me up and adjusts my pillows, propping me up.

"Hey, take it easy. You were hurt quite bad." My heart warms at the concern in his eyes.

My smile fades when his eyes run over my arms and legs. Not one wound, bruise, or mark is left on me. He still has his injuries, although they are on the way to healing, and mine are completely healed.

I tense, seeing the look in his eyes. My stomach churns as realisation seems to dawn on him. His heart is racing as he stares at me, as if he is piecing together the last pieces of the puzzle.

I have kept my rather fast healing on the down low, ever since I was little when we had moved to Jackson's pack. I never let anyone know how fast I healed. The fear that someone like Zidane would realise and do the same to me made me hide it.

I knew I was different, and luckily I rarely got hurt, so it wasn't hard to hide. But the way Elijah is looking at me now makes me uneasy.

Surprise, concern, doubt, fear, rage and the thumping of his heart makes me dread his next question as he looks up into my eyes.

"If I ask you something, will you tell me the truth, Red?" he asks softly, but there's an underlying tremble in it. He strokes my hair and for a second I tense, remembering Zidane's touch, but then I take a deep breath.

This is not Zidane's touch, it's Elijah's, and it is filled with such tenderness that I feel safe. His soothing caress brings me warmth and comfort. I close my eyes.

"Red?" he whispers.

I don't know if I should. If I do, there's no going back. I truly hope that it's a different question and not what I think it will be.

"Sure," I answer reluctantly, opening my eyes.

"He hurt you, didn't he?"