Chapter 3 Night Terrors: Cyrus POV

• ***WARNING: This chapter contains attempted rape, mentions of rape, and self-harm. Read at your own discretion.***
• I hadn't had a cigarette in ages. The lack of access to my unnecessary, but wanted, vice mixed with the fact that a 'golden wolf' had been coming here for the last five days has left me more irritated than usual. As of right now, I balanced on a tree limb far above golden boy's head as he walked around scenting the air. I'd cleared these woods two days ago, and I was its only new resident. So, most likely, he was looking for me. As I watched him, a smile crept onto my face. It was cute how he checked everything twice, making sure his large frame didn't disturb the surrounding flora too much.
• Wait. Did I just think he was cute? Welp, it's time for me to take my leave. I had no room for ridiculous thoughts like that. There was also no reason for pushing my luck in staying hidden anyway, even though I was sure that, from this height, if I couldn't smell him, he couldn't smell me. Regardless, I still wanted a pack of cigarettes. Even if wolves can't get addicted to such things, it was relaxing to smoke. Plus, a walk around town in my human form would do me good. I traveled by treetop until I reached the edge of the forest where my clothes were hidden. Shifting back, I got dressed and caught a glimpse of, what I assumed to be, golden boy's car. It was an all-black Lamborghini with silver accents. His pack must be pretty well off. Must be nice. Running my fingers through my blue-black hair, I began my walk into town.
• The city was beginning to liven up the closer the first day of school got. That being said, most of the shops still didn't stay open long, causing the city to still be fairly quiet and empty. I reached a closed convenience store and made my way 'round back. As bad as I felt about stealing, I was broke and slightly desperate. My scent was still masked, so I wouldn't leave a trail. I firmly grasped the handle of the door marked "Employees Only". I turned it hard, with enough strength to break the lock. Opening it, I looked around for any sort of security. Apparently, since this was a town full of shifters, the owner didn't deem such a thing necessary. Closing the door behind me, I made a beeline for the counter and jumped behind it. Grabbing the cheapest pack and lighter, I took my leave. I was desperate, not greedy.
• I quickly opened the pack and lit up before continuing my late afternoon stroll. There were a few other wolves and jaguars roaming around, going to the few restaurants that were open. I stayed out of the way and out of sight, observing them from afar. I needed to grab a few more outfits, but the used clothes shop was, for some odd reason, tucked into the strip mall across from the restaurants. Sitting down in the alley a block or two away, I figured it wouldn't hurt to relax for a while as I waited for the restaurants to close.
• I don't know when I drifted off, but I know I regretted it more than anything. The weight and scent of some drunken jaguar shifter pressed me to the ground. My body was shaking as flashbacks of Marren on top of me rushed through my mind. I couldn't focus as I tried to push him off. He grabbed my left wrist, pushing it above my head as his other hand tried to pull my jeans down. I wanted to scream. I tried to scream. My voice was stuck in my throat. His breathing was ragged and his scent was heavy with arousal. Tears ran down my face as he finally undid the button of my jeans. Not again. NOT AGAIN! Please! I couldn't breathe, as I felt his tongue on my neck. Suddenly, I heard voices I couldn't make out. Whoever it was, they didn't like what was going on.
• The drunk jaguar was ripped off of me. I didn't wait to see what happened next. Gathering whatever shaky strength I could muster, I booked it. I ran hard and fast and didn't stop 'til I was in the center of the clearing. My legs gave out as I became a shaking pile of tears. I still felt his hands on me...it made me feel disgusting. All this training and strength and I've even managed to escape him and still I was almost raped, again, because I couldn't get my anxiety under control. My breathing and heartbeat were still way too fast. I hugged myself, trying to calm down but instead, I felt lightheaded. It felt like I was falling. Falling into the deepest abyss.
• I was in a dark room, or, at least it felt like a room. It was so dark I couldn't see where, or even if, there were walls.
• "So the little whore is up to his old tricks."
• Marren's voice echoed through the dark space. I broke out in a cold sweat and tried to steady my voice,
• "F-fuck off...just leave me alone."
• "Well, if you returned your REBELLIOUS LITTLE ASS BACK TO ME, I'd consider it. Property isn't supposed to leave its owner you know."
• "I'm not your property."
• I flinched as his laughter rang out from every direction,
• I beg to differ.
• As he said it, memories filled the space. Every beating...every rape. I was forced to watch them playback like twisted home videos. I tried to close my eyes and block them out, but they were still visible. Even my tears couldn't properly blur the images. I screamed as my body started to relive the abuse. I felt his touch and his hits. I felt him inside of me all over again. I couldn't take the pain. Suddenly, I was drowning in red liquid. I didn't have the strength to move. My body gave in and my lungs filled with what tasted like blood.
• I woke up in a cold sweat, remnants of my personal hellscape still running through my mind. I stripped, deciding that a swim would help to wash it away. The cold water surrounded me instantly as I jumped in. My breath caught as the temperature shocked my body. I breached the surface and swam back to the shore. My fingers shakily combed my wet hair back, and I pulled my knees to my chest. I still felt him touching me.
• I gripped my head, trying to will it all away. My arms began to itch as if to remind me that numbness was a cutaway. I crossed my legs and steadied my arm across my knee. Letting out a claw, I sliced across my inner arm. I kept going 'til all I was focused on were the closing wounds and my bloodied arm. There were probably 15 fresh cuts, and I watched each of them heal with vague fascination. Each of them left fresh scars, only adding to the dozens upon dozens that were already there. I felt empty...finally.