Chapter 2

Beth’s POV.

I slip out of the bathtub, my body feeling too warm as blood pools against my skin. The water was scalding, and it stayed super hot the whole hour or so I sat in the bath, but I know that the calming effects of the heat would wear off quickly. I’ll be shivering and freezing again in no time. Sighing, I wrap my ratty, old towel around my body. God forbid the pack spare me a warm, clean towel. No; they left me this worn scarp of fabric. It’s a little thing, and not really a big deal, but when you’ve dealt with it for eleven years, the tiniest things effect you drastically.

I draw the towel tighter around my body, my hair dripping all over my face, and walk as quickly as I can to my room. I close the door behind me, feeling safer when I’m locked in my own little space, even though it’s not much.

My room is simple – the pack couldn’t spare any expense on me, so it’s a lot less elaborate than the other rooms. The walls are a light cream color, I have a tiny window high up on the wall directly to my left, and I have a shallow, half-finished closet in the far wall. A bare light bulb is hanging off of a cord attached to my ceiling. My bed consists of a mattress laying across the floor, with two thin, blue blankets covering it. There isn’t even a pillow.

I sigh, ignoring the lack of furniture and decoration, and peel my towel off, throwing it to the side and hurriedly pulling on my underwear and bra. I throw on thick sweatpants and a slightly ratty sweater with the word "Hollister" printed across the front. Knowing that these clothes are the warmest in my sparse wardrobe, I glance down at the beaten-up clock propped on the floor beside my bed. It’s only eleven thirty, leaving me with enough time to sneak in a quick nap and wake up before anyone gets home. I don’t want to leave myself vulnerable to them.

With that thought in mind, I pull back my blankets and slide onto the mattress, pulling the covers back around me tightly as the first round of shivers makes my hands tremble and my teeth chatter. "Ughhh," I groan, burying myself deeper in the mess of blankets, and curl into a ball, trying to instill some warmth into my bones.

Why am I getting so cold lately? I wonder to myself for a moment, before shaking it away. It’s just another sign of my body deteriorating. I guess that I’ll be dead sooner than I thought. .

‘Stop that,’ my wolf sighs, clearly trying to muster the energy to be mad at me, and failing.

‘It’s not like you can’t feel it,’ I think, like I’m saying it, but only inside of my head.

‘We’ll get stronger. Better.’ She growls this time, but it’s a million times weaker than what she used to be able to achieve.

‘Face it. We’re dying, and even your alpha blood can’t save us for much longer.’ I curl my arms into my chest, shivering once more. The morbid thoughts don’t bother me as much as they do my wolf – I take comfort in them, actually. To die would be a blessing.

‘It’s your alpha blood too, damn it! You just need to acknowledge it!’ She screams, clearly getting frustrated with me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that anything with alpha blood hates to give up. My wolf included. Which means that she will keep trying to save me, keep fighting for me to live, until she breaks.

It can’t be that much longer, I reason to myself, looking for some reassurance. She’ll crack soon enough, and then I can give up. I can just surrender to the blissful silence of death.

‘I’m not going to ‘acknowledge’ it or whatever. I have given up, and it’s about time you do the same. Things will be a lot easier that way.’

‘What about your mate! Do you think he’ll ever want you like this?!’ She screams, drawing on the one weak spot I had when it came to my death. My mate. Your mate is supposed to be there for you. To love you without any boundaries, accepting you for who you are. At least, that’s what I heard.

But I know the truth. The amount of werewolves that reject their mates. That find their mate, only to have them killed moments, days, months later, ripping their hearts to shreds in the process. Even worse, are the werewolves who’s mates die before they can ever meet, and have to spend their lives searching for someone who doesn’t exist anymore.

Mates are supposed to be a beautiful, fairy-tale ending, but that’s rarely true. And while the fraction of a romantic side that I still possess makes me want to hope for things to be different, for my mate to be the exception, the one-in-a-million, fairy tale kind of perfect that he’s supposed to be, I know it won’t happen. Ever. I don’t deserve it.

‘Who says I’ll even get a mate? Let’s be honest, I don’t have the best of luck. I’m ugly. I’m scarred. My own pack hates me. So, why in the world, would I ever deserve a mate?’ Even as I think it, pain rockets in my chest, and I curl tighter to myself. I desperately wish that I could have a mate. I just don’t believe it will happen.

‘Ugh, Beth. I don’t know. I just don’t know. I guess that I … I just want something to hold on to. I want to believe that there’s a reason to stay alive. Can you really begrudge me that?’ My wolf asks, although her voice is soft and shaky.

I guess I can see what she means. We both just want to believe that there is something left for us. I don’t think that there is. Not at all. I just want to die.

Despite my thoughts, and my argument with my wolf, I go to sleep with a slight smile on my face. The first genuine smile in years.

Why?

My wolf’s finally giving up. I can hear it. I can feel it, deep inside. She’s cracking.

And I’m that much closer to getting my wish.

I wake up in my dark room, panicking, Another nightmare had penetrated my dreams, and while I can’t remember what it was about, all of the tell-tale signs are there. I sit up, my covers a tangled jumble around my legs and constricting my movements, as my pulse races and my breathing comes in short, raspy gasps.

A cold sweat covers my body, making the cold chills running down my back even worse and matting my hair to my forehead. I wrap my arms around myself, blinking in the darkness, and taking longer than normal for my eyes to adjust. I sit up, pulling the sheets with me and clutching them to my body, looking around as I try to fully wake up.

I look at my watch, my fading werewolf abilities kicking in and enhancing my eyesight. 2:00pm.

Wait, what?! I sit up, flinging aside my sheets. School ends in five minutes, and the pack will be home in fifteen minutes. I run out of my room as fast as my frail body will carry me.

It’s my job to have a bunch of food prepared by the time the pack comes home every day after school. And I don’t want to see what will happen if I don’t.

With that thought in mind, I do my best to ignore how cold I feel and begin sprinting towards the kitchen.