Owned By The Scary Lycan

Lucia's POV When I came through from my slumber, I heard silent sobs next to me and wondered who was crying and what for. The place seemed dark and I couldn't place it. 'Where am I? Was I not in my room? But then why was it this dark? Why was it giving me creepy chills?' I wondered. I knew Abby, our housekeeper who is practically my second mother, had the tendency to change my curtains and hang those heavy and dark ones at my mother's behest. I groaned. This was surely my mother's doing. She somehow believes I don't get enough sleep and sometimes tries to force me to oversleep. It was true though, I have barely had enough sleep these days. I swear, if it was up to my mother, she would even induce a temporary coma on me just to get me to rest. She probably must have snuck into my room while I slept and hung these heavy curtains. I used to be a light sleeper, but these days I sleep like a dead log. I guess because my body was always fatigued? I groaned because I couldn't even see a little flicker of light in there. 'Or was it still nighttime?' But then why does it feel as if I've been sleeping for ages, why was my body feeling so tense, and it feels as if there is a heavy blanket over my eyes?’ I wondered. I admit that I overworked myself even more those days. I have been managing my father's small business ever since he passed on. It hadn't been easy, looking at the fact that I had been doing my online tutoring, which took almost five hours of my time, and on the other hand, I was writing online novels as part-time to supplement our income. I started these hassles way before my father died. I couldn't take it that my loving father had to break his back, overworking himself just to feed me and my mother and also struggling to pay for my college. I was eighteen and doing my first year at university when I started writing my first novel, titled "His Forever." It was a fiction novel based on werewolves. I knew there was nothing real about it, but I just followed the trends, encouraged by my editor. I had to read a few books to get an idea of what werewolves were and how they lived their lives. The way the writers portrayed their stories ignited a passion inside me and I became really interested and well invested in writing such stories. I began to write these stories in a manner in which I brought to life every character as if it was reality. Soon my book acquired many readers and followers. They commented on my writing skills and that motivated me to write more. Some were mean, but I used their criticism to grow, and soon I had written five books within a year. Incredibly unbelievable, right? Yeah, it is, but that was the time I started overworking while studying at the same time. I had enough savings to pay my tuition and that relieved the burden off my father’s back. He was so proud of me, and he believed I would take over the business and get it to sail. I didn't like his business, but then two years down the line, tragedy struck. He died from an unknown disease. The doctors claimed that he had not been feeling well for years but didn't take care of himself. Typical of men and their fear of health facilities. Now I was forced to take over this laundromat s***h dry cleaning business that wasn't doing that well, and I worked hard to bring it back to life. It has been two years now since my father passed on. I graduated with my Bachelor’s degree in Humanities, majoring in English literature. 'Why am I in bed when I have a meeting with the town mayor in the afternoon? And what time is it now?' I groaned internally as I tried moving my upper body, so I could turn and check my clock, but I couldn't move a muscle. Instead, I only felt as if a ten-tonne truck fell on me. 'What is going on?' I wondered as I tried surveying the room, but it was still so dark. I was getting exasperated when I heard the sobs intensifying next to me. 'Was that my mother? But then why would she be sobbing like someone had died or something? Was she missing her husband? My heart broke for her. I mean, I’ve never been married or had any relationships, but I can’t imagine the pain she had been going through silently. "Mom! Why are you crying and why is it dark in here?" I croaked as I asked, surprised by my own voice. Why was it so raspy, as if I hadn't spoken in a long time or as if I drank alcohol the whole night? I tried clearing my throat but then she spoke. "Lulu? Are you really awake, my baby? Oh God, thank you, thank you, God!" my mother exclaimed. I wondered why she felt so relieved to hear me speak or awake as it was. My mother can be so dramatic. It was as if I had died and now came back to life. "Let me remove those bandages around your eyes, it's not that it's dark, but it is what makes you not see,” she said. 'What was she talking about? Bandages? Why would I have bandages over my eyes? Did she get my eyes operated on without my consent? But with what money?’ A shiver went down my spine, but it was gone as quickly as it came. I knew that my eyes had been failing me a lot lately, but I promised her that I would see an optometrist and get them fixed soon. 'Why would she get me surgery overnight, especially when I have a very important meeting later on?' Confusion flooded my thoughts. I laid there feeling helpless as I waited for her to remove "her bandages". As I felt her soft hands over my head, she gently unwrapped the thin cloth slowly until I could begin to see some light trickling in, and I could make out my mother's face. She looked like she had aged overnight. I frowned. ‘Why does she look so worried?’ I wondered, looking at the deep lines on her forehead. That surprised me because, though my mother was 50 years of age, she didn’t look anything like her age. She actually looked like my older sister. Why would she suddenly look so aged overnight with strands of gray hair and wrinkles on her face? "Momma! What's wrong? Why do you look like you aged overnight and why are you crying?" I asked, my voice still raspy. I tried to lift my hand to wipe her tears, but I somehow still couldn't move a muscle and I still couldn't place a finger on why I couldn't move my limbs. I must have overworked myself at the gym yesterday, sometimes I do, trying to deal with my fatigue. Otherwise, why would I suddenly feel all twitchy and have pain shoot from my muscles all over? She continued sobbing, which caused me to look around for the first time. 'Why does the light in my room suddenly look different? What about the ceiling, whose room is this?' I wondered as I luckily managed to move my neck, unlike the rest of my body. As I turned my head to the other side, I realized that I wasn't at home. The room looked like a makeshift room from a scene in a hospital movie, but it was more homey than a real hospital room. It had nice wallpaper. "Mother, where am I, and why do I feel so heavy? Did you drug me or something? Why did I have bandages over my eyes?" I asked my mother, who thankfully wasn't sobbing anymore but was now smiling. ‘Could this heaviness be the result of anesthesia? Did she really get me surgery?’ I began to dread my own thoughts as I was also confused by her smile. This was incredulous! Why was she smiling? I needed to get out of bed since it didn't look like I was going to get an answer to my questions any time soon. "Mom, I have a meeting with Mr. Bob Miller in the afternoon, I have to prepare for it," I said, seeing that she was busy smiling instead of answering my questions. "There is no need for that Lulu!" she said, and I furrowed my brows. What does she mean by no need? If I don't go, we might lose our business and our only land. Would we survive only on my online hassles? "What do you mean mom, that meeting is important, I have to convince him," I protested and continued blubbering nonsense until she held my forehead and told me to calm down. "We no longer have any business or land, Lulu! The municipality took it away and paid us peanuts!" she shouted in the midst of my rants, her face looking sullen. I was baffled. "What? How? Why? How's that even possible overnight, mom?" A string of questions left my lips, and she hung her head and sobbed again. I was outraged! They will get to know me today. How could they take advantage of my mother like that? And why didn't she wake me up to deal with them? "Three years!" she whispered. I wasn't sure I heard her clearly. "Three years?" I asked, more confused. "It's been three years since that happened, Lucia." My mother said and I was lost. 'What was she talking about?' "What three years? You mean they took it before dad died?" I was getting exasperated. Why couldn't she just tell me straight forward without going in circles? "Your dad died five years ago, Lulu!" she responded. I was even more confused. "No momma, daddy died two years ago, have you forgotten? Are you okay?" I was getting worried that my mom might be getting dementia or something. How did two years turn to five overnight? "I'm sorry my baby, but you have been in a coma for three years now!" she said, sobbing, and I didn't know if I heard her right or not. "Coma? Coma?" I repeated and she nodded. "Coma as in a comatose condition?" I asked again, finding the news incredulous! How did that even happen? What could have led to it?