The Broken Wolf

(Prolouge) At Nine She knew

My hair stuck to my skin as the cold water of Hade Spring seeped through my clothes into my soul hacking sounds forcing air into my lungs as my vision returned, the burning feeling in my throat worsened as I threw up water my hands ached as I gripped earth my knees scratching against rocks my eyes rimmed turned upwards to my grandfather who stared at me his expression an impenetrable mask of indifference.

The realization that I could die—no, that I could be killed at any moment settled into my nine-year-old mind like brand doing away with any delusions my child brain had of one day belonging within the Sterling family. I was the defective product of his son’s dalliance, not one of his precious grandchildren.

He said nothing, didn’t need to. Just watched as I tried desperately to control my breathing my vision spotting for an entirely new reason. I felt my heart break the shattered pieces lodging into my chest. I saw him begin his walk back towards the main house as my panic attack stole my consciousness.

And in the quiet darkness of my mind I found the only peace I would ever have.