  Aaron’s POV

  

      (this is when Beth hears the front door open)

  

      “Mate.”

  

      “NO!” I yell, running towards her as she slowly blinks. She’s draining out, she’s so pale, she’s dying, oh God, she’s dying!

  

      I can’t lose her. I can’t. My wolf is howling, and my heart is in my feet. I can’t lose her, not before I’ve even known her.

  

      ...

  

      Alpha Joe standing before Peter and I seems stressed at best, his body rigid as he plasters a smile onto his face. That’s not a friendly signal, but I don’t care.

  

      His pack is smaller than ours, and, if Alpha Joe is any indication, not nearly as well trained as we are.

  

      That means that my pack is superior to his.

  

      Alpha Joe steps back, waving us into his pack house.

  

      I step in without any hesitations. Peter, my Beta, close on my heels, wishing that we could just discu

  Aaron’s POV

  

       “Beth…” I called her name while still looking at her puffy eyes and her pale face.

  

      I sat by the bed and held her in my arms, I could see my reflection in Beth’s eyes, but apart from that, there was only sadness there.

  

      I closed my eyes, not wanting to see her despair as I let my head inch down towards her face until my lip made contact with hers.

  

      Her lips were already so dry and pale, there were cracks on her lips too, but I didn’t bother about all those things. I just fulfilled her wish and kissed her passionately.

  

      With my eyes closed, I could feel her tears streaming down from her eyes to my hand. There was also a sharp pain in my lips which made me look at her to see that her lips were also stained with blood.

  

      I wondered if it was my blood or hers when I suddenly felt Beth’s body become motionless in my ar

  Beth’s POV.

  

      "I’m just about to reach for the pages, confused as to why I would be mentioned in them, when my watch stops beeping. I pause, blinking hard to clear the dark spots from my vision – damn, cleaning those cuts must have really affected me – and I peer at the tiny, glowing screen.

  

      5:30 a.m. Damn. I have to start getting breakfast ready; normally, I’d start it at 6 o’clock, but I know I’m going to be slower than usual today. I’m dizzy beyond belief.

  

      I sigh, deciding to come back and read the letter over after I’m done cooking, and everyone leaves for school. Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the headache that’s beginning to form behind my eyes from crying so much, I leave the office, grabbing my sweater as I go, and head down to the kitchen.

  

      I stumble down the stairs uncertainly, but, by the time I reach the landing of the first floor, most of the dizziness is gone. I can walk straight, at least. I grab things from the cupboards lining the walls slowly, my body sore, and easily choosing to make a simple breakfast buffet kind of thing, as opposed to an actual meal.

  

      Half an hour later, cereal is lining the long granite counter, with jugs of milk sitting in between. Four batches of scrambled eggs are on the stove, and there are stacks of French toast and pancakes among the cereal. My ribcage is aching, and all I want to do is get to bed. “Just a few more minutes, Beth, and then you can go back to bed.”

  

      Even as I whisper them aloud to myself, I know the words are lies. The pack won’t be down here for another twenty minutes or so, but I can’t leave, because Joe likes to ‘speak’ with me before he leaves for school.

  

      Normally, ‘speaking’ with me entails a lot more yelling and demanding than the word implies, but I’m used to it by now. He’ll give me a few chores to do if he feels like it, or if someone in the pack is too lazy to do them themselves, and then he’ll just demand I spent the rest of the day in my room and not touch anything.

  

      It’s a stupid habit of his, really, because I already know the do’s and don’t’s of the house, and have known them for the past eleven years, when his dad started telling me them. I guess it just makes him feel powerful or something, being able to boss me around like that. Not to mention the smug looks he gets when his friends join in on the verbal abuse.

  

      I close my eyes, shaking my head. I’ve got to stop thinking about them. I’ll just deal with them for the next few months, and then it’ll all be over. This can all be over.

  

      For once, my wolf doesn’t say anything. She seems anxious about something, and I can almost feel her pacing. I’m about to ask her, when I hear the first footsteps coming down the stairs. The pack’s awake.

  

      I hurriedly straighten myself from where I was leaning on the counter, and slide the last plate of eggs onto a spare table, before backing up and standing against the far wall, as I have been taught to do.

  

      Pack members file in, rubbing tired eyes and slinging their arms around their mates, looking like zombies. I watch them pile food onto their plates, feeling my stomach growl a little at the sight, and I sigh. I wish I could eat today, but I ate a few days ago, so I know that my chances are slim.

  

      Joe comes in, holding Grace to his side, and I keep my eyes on the ground respectively. After he dumps a bunch of random food onto the gigantic plate in his hand, he marches over to me.

  

      “The Blue Moon Pack Alpha and Beta are visiting today, at 4 p.m. I expect the office to be cleaned out and scrubbed down, and then the kitchen. Grace and Haven are going to do all of the cooking, so you don’t try to poison the whole lot of us. Once that is done, I want you to go to your room. And stay there.” With that, he marches back off to Grace, drawing her close again. I stifle a sigh; he is so impersonal to me. He just demands whatever he needs done, and leaves before he has to bother saying another word to me.

  

      I leave the kitchen quickly, thinking over his words. Great; we’re having more guests. I know what that means; hours of cleaning, and then hiding myself up in my room until they leave. I’m used to it, as I’ve said before. The pack doesn’t want anyone to see me, because it’s pretty obvious I haven’t been cared for. And they don’t trust me to be around another pack, either, in case I make the same mistakes my dad made. They can’t risk anything like that.

  

      I head back upstairs, going to the office, and twisting side to side to try and stretch some of the soreness out of my ribs. I guess I’m not going to be going to sleep anytime soon, I muse to myself, feeling a pang of desperation at the thought. My torso is in a numbing kind of pain, and I want nothing more than to sleep it off. Those stupid black dots are swirling in my vision again, and the dizziness is coming back.

  

      ‘At least you’re cleaning the office. You can check out that letter,’ my wolf says in a rush, sounding nervous and anxious.

  

      ‘Why do you sound so worried about it?” I question, not liking it in the slightest. Her instincts are better than mine, and if she doesn’t like the idea of that letter for some reason, I don’t, either.

  

      ‘I don’t know. I just have a bad feeling about it. Why would anyone ever write about you?’

  

      ‘Geez, thanks,’ I tease, trying to lighten up the conversation, although her words make me think. Why would anyone write about me?

  

      ‘You know what I mean. You’re not exactly the pack’s favorite person-‘

  

      ‘That’s the understatement of the year.’

  

      ‘- And I just can’t picture anyone writing anything GOOD about you. It has to be something bad.’

  

      I go silent, feeling my stomach flip a little. She’s right. I stumble a little as the world around me goes fuzzy, and I grab onto the railing, holding tight. “Damn it,” I moan quietly, trying to straighten myself out. The headache has become a near-thunderous pounding in my head, now, and it isn’t help in the slightest. I have no clue why the dizziness is coming and going like that, but I don’t take the time to figure it out. I blink hard, once, twice, three times, and then go down the rest of the hallway, into the office.

  

      I sway again, tripping my way clumsily past the desk and to the sink, where all of my medicine and supplies are spread out from last night. I shake off the nausea and the spinning in my head as well as I can, picking up the dirty towels and piling them into my arms. The strong smell of my own blood and pus hits me, strong and untainted, and I sway from the morbid stench, before the world becomes completely black.

  

      When I wake up, my head is pounding more than ever before. I’m on the ground in the office, and the whole house is seeming to shake with the noise of excited shouting and frantic preparation. I sit up, thankful that I’m not dizzy, when I gasp.

  

      Damn it! I passed out! I look at my watch, groaning when I realize that it’s 3:45. There’s no way that I’ll be able to clean out the whole office in fifteen minutes! Stupid, stupid, stupid body, I curse myself, over and over again. Why did I have to pass out? Couldn’t I have been strong enough to stay conscious long enough to clean out the office?

  

      As I mentally berate myself, I whip around the room like a tornado, ignoring the pain in my head, because I know it will be worse if Joe finds this room a mess.

  

      I finish up the back half of the office, cautiously holding my breath and averting my eyes as I toss the towels into a hamper in the far corner. Wiping my hands off on my pants in disgust, I head into the front half of the room.

  

      I sigh when I look at the desk, before resigning myself to cleaning the desk off as fast as possible. It’s not like I have a choice.

  

      I sweep up a pile of papers, planning on simply dumping them into the nearest filing cabinet drawer, when the letter I saw before catches my eye. Pausing, I stare at it – the unfamiliar handwriting, the slightly faded ink, as if the letter is months old.

  

      Well, one look won’t hurt, I muse, allowing my curiosity to get the better of me. I place the pile of papers back onto the desk, and grab the four pages that make up the letter. Clutching them tightly, I bring them closer to my face, so I can read them.

  

      ‘In regards to Beth Ewing…

  

      Dear Alpha Joe, I am writing to you because of the desperate state that Beth’s body is in. I understand that you have instructed me not to provide her with any medical assistance, but, I thought that you should know exactly how… dire, her situation is.’

  

      I freeze, staring at the first paragraph. Who wrote this? And what do they mean, what’s wrong with me? Anxiety unfurls in the bottom of my stomach, making it clench. I feel like I’m going to throw up, and my wolf is pacing restless, torn between wanting to know more, and stopping right now, throwing the letter away, and pretending nothing ever happened.

  

      Something is wrong with me, though. And I need to know what it is.

  

      With that, I continue the letter.

  

      ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, Alpha Joe. First off, her body is covered in scars, which shouldn’t be possible for a werewolf. Even extensive injuries should have been healed, leaving no trace of them, but she has scars EVERYWHERE. It isn’t just a few. It’s many.’

  

      The writer goes on to explain all of the things that shouldn’t be found on a werewolf – the weakness, my petite size and build, my shallow stomach and thin skin.

  

      I feel dread pooling into my veins; I knew all of this before, but, something is telling me that there is going to be more in this letter. Something, somewhere on these few pages, will surprise me. I can feel it.

  

      And it scares me. My hands are shaking, and yet, I can’t tear my eyes from the paper. I’m drawn, with a morbid sense of curiosity, to the paper, though I know that what I’m going to read will change me. I can’t un-see this.

  

      I get to the last page, breathing deeply, before continuing on.

  

      ‘In short, Beth Ewing is dying. Her body is so battered and beaten, that I swear to you, she won’t make it to February without immediate medical attention. I have included with this letter a bottle of pills, They’re strong, and filled with a form of Lycotine anti-venom. It is usually only used in desperate situations when one’s wolf stops functioning properly, but it seems that nothing is working correctly in Beth’s body. Within weeks, without this medicine, she will start to shiver and shake constantly, no matter how warm the building is. This will be the first sign of her dying; the rest of the process will move on rapidly from there. Her organs may fail, and her wolf may break, before she dies. Both scenarios would be tremendously painful, and she’d writhe in fiery pain for days before she would finally give out. Alpha, I cannot stress how desperately she needs this medicine. Please, reconsider. She doesn’t have long otherwise.

  

      Sincerely,

  

      Ethan Brooke, Healer. September 15th.’

  

      I shake, reading over the page over and over, as tears well in my eyes. He told him. The Healer told him, that I’m going to die. And he didn’t do anything about it. Joe didn’t do a single thing.

  

      Desperate sadness fills my body, like a crazy kind of panic. I’m going to die – and, if the Healer is right, I’ll be dead in February. That’s only a month from now.

  

      I know, I know. I’ve been wishing for death for so long – why should I be so upset? But, it’s one thing to be willing to die. It’s a whole other thing to be told that you’re going to die.

  

      Tears stream down my face steadily, as my heart feels like it’s cracking. I’m more than scared; I’m beyond even terrified. I’m going to die within four weeks; and I’m going to hurt for days before I finally succumb.

  

      If I thought that the pack’s torture and abuse was bad, then how will I handle my body’s depletion? Everything is going to get worse from here on out, and I just have to wait around for it to happen.

  

      The pack knows; and they’re letting me die. I realize this with a cold sense of self mockery. They never loved me. They couldn’t. They’re all sitting around, passing time until I die. Watching and waiting for it.

  

      The almost physical pain of my emotions suddenly doubles, and I choke on sobs, falling to my knees.

  

      ‘We’re dying; and they’re letting us. They didn’t even try to stop it.’ A broken voice sounds in my head, that I can barely recognize as my wolf.

  

      I freeze a little, and she speaks again. ‘There’s nothing left for us. We’re going to die now, surely; we haven’t had any of that medicine, not even once. There’s no way to save us.’

  

      From the grief and the terror filling my body, and the way my wolf’s voice rips up and down octaves with tears as she speaks, I can only think of two things.

  

      One; my wolf broke. She’s given up, the same way that I did so many years ago.

  

      Two; I can die now. I could go up to my room and kill myself.

  

      And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. I have nothing, NOTHING left to even hope for. If I don’t do it now, I don’t know if I’ll get another chance. My body is fading, and fading fast, I can feel it now, more than ever. It’s like, by reading that letter, I realized what I should have known all along. I am dying. And there is no way out of it now.

  

      I’m going to die; so, why not get it over with, sooner rather than later? Before the pain and the helplessness can come. Before I lose whatever little control I have over my life right now.

  

      With that thought, I shakily stand, fear and a strange rush of adrenaline racing through my veins as I try to control my sobs long enough to get out the door.

  

      I hear the front door open, new voices filling the first floor, and I begin to run, pushing myself up the stairs as fast as I can. I know that the Alpha and Beta of The Blue Moon Pack must have arrived, and that means they’ll be coming up to the office soon. I want to be dead before they can get any closer to me. I don’t want any interruptions, or people to come looking for me. I want to die before they can stop me.

  

      I run into my room, closing the door. I stumble my way to my mattress, feeling worn out from having run up two flights of stairs. I slide my hand under the mattress, pulling out the large knife I had stored there at the age of eleven.

  

      I sob again as I think back to that day. The pack had stolen my innocence, my childhood, my everything. I was already planning on killing myself at such a young age, already praying for my wolf to give out so that I could leave this world, and all of the pain that comes with it.

  

      I sit up on my pathetic excuse of a bed, crossing my arms and resting them on my knees, and then resting my head on my arms, the knife held tightly in my right hand.

  

      They took everything from me, and now, even if I wanted to have one, I don’t have a future. I have nothing. NOTHING. I don’t have a family, or one single, solitary friend. Everyone hates me.

  

      I glance at myself through my tears, staring at my reflection in the blade. I can see my chocolate brown yes, the eyes that I got from my father, the eyes that remind my pack of every single horrible thing my father did to us. The eyes that make it impossible for my pack to forgive me. The eyes I inherited from my father, a person who doesn’t even deserve to have been born.

  

      That’s what makes me snap. My eyes, staring back at me. Showing me my past, bringing back memories of my father abusing the pack, and then, the pack abusing me, in return. Every awful thing in my life is reflected in my eyes, and I hate it. I can’t move on. I can’t forget it. And now, I can’t even live past it.

  

      “BETH!” I hear Joe shriek. Damn it, he must have went into the office. His footsteps thunder up the stairs, with three other pairs close behind him.

  

      “They can’t even let me die in peace,” I whisper, laughing in an insane way. It’s cruel, but I’m so hurt, so afraid and so DESPERATE for an end, that I don’t care.

  

      I’m going to have to be quick, I think, and sit up straight, unfolding my arms and laying my left arm out on the bed beside me. Shaking, with my wolf whimpering in my head, I draw my right arm up, bringing it to my left wrist, and flick the knife with a jerky movement, slashing into my veins and what appears to be an artery.

  

      It hurts, and I scream despite myself, before slashing into myself again, directly above the original cut. There. That’ll make me bleed out faster, I think, nodding to myself as my head begins to feel light. The pain goes away completely, suddenly, and I fall back, laying sprawled on my bed, as a scarlet red liquid fills my sheets and my sense of smell. It’s my own blood, I vaguely realize, but I don’t care. I can feel myself getting sleepy. That’s good, I know. That means it’s almost over.

  

      It’s a struggle to keep my eyes open, and as I blink slowly, my door bursts open. Joe is standing there, looking angry, but stopping when he sees my body. A boy that I recognize as Tom glances at me before getting sick. I stare at him, trying to feel some sort of emotion, but coming up blank.

  

      My eyes shut again, and after fighting for a moment, I open them. A new boy bursts into the room, and I would gasp if I could. He’s beautiful, with chocolate brown hair and melting brown eyes.

  

      “NO!” He screams, running over to me, just as my wolf howls one word: mate.

  

      My eyes widen for a moment, and I try to move closer to this boy, wanting to get a closer look at him. Just as he reaches me, his arm extended to me, the world goes black.

Aaron’s POV
  
      (this is when Beth hears the front door open)
  
      “Mate.”
  
      “NO!” I yell, running towards her as she slowly blinks. She’s draining out, she’s so pale, she’s dying, oh God, she’s dying!
  
      I can’t lose her. I can’t. My wolf is howling, and my heart is in my feet. I can’t lose her, not before I’ve even known her.
  
      ...
  
      Alpha Joe standing before Peter and I seems stressed at best, his body rigid as he plasters a smile onto his face. That’s not a friendly signal, but I don’t care.
  
      His pack is smaller than ours, and, if Alpha Joe is any indication, not nearly as well trained as we are.
  
      That means that my pack is superior to his.
  
      Alpha Joe steps back, waving us into his pack house.
  
      I step in without any hesitations. Peter, my Beta, close on my heels, wishing that we could just discuss a few different tactics for defending our packs and territory from rogues, also

Chapter 7