His Queen

Chapter 3 : A Work Of Art

That was the first of many times.

The first of many hours of pain, tears, and screams. I endured months on months of torture with only may hate for Ren giving me the motivation to pick my broken and bruised, cut and carved, body off of the chilled stone floor. The floor of my cell was not only my home for this past year and a half, but also my bed, torture table, and safety. It was the one constant in my poor excuse for a life.

Over these past many months Ren had found pleasure in cutting me open, whipping and touching me in unfathomable ways. He would come to my cell angry as hell and punish me for it. I can honestly say that the man has some major problems, one clearly being he is A PSYCHOTIC MAD MAN. But honestly, he is probably on a 24/7 rampage. Never have a witnessed him not angry. I can't comprehend why wolves even allow him to rule over them. He had none of the leadership and stability that a respected alpha requires.

The boy that had first brought in Rens tools of torture has actually been around quite frequently. He brings me my food or more like leftovers and sometimes if Ren was really bad he will help me clean my wounds. However, he refuses to talk to me even when I pester him with questions he is mute. I just wish to know his name. The only person I know here is Alpha Ren and that is only because he demands I address him as such.

Almost every day Ren pays me a visit whether it's just to taunt me about what he will do to me tomorrow or to inject me with wolfsbane before he tortured me later. Goddess it hurts. Everything hurts with exhaustion and soreness but every time I find my self wandering to the easy path, the path of death, I remind my self of my family. I remind my self that the only thing I have left is my promise to them. It is a promise I will keep.

Now, as I lay silently on the hard floor I try and ignore the fresh blood that trickles down my wrists that are cuffed in silver shackles. If it was anything other then silver I would be ok but open wound exposure to silver causes werewolves extreme pain and weakens us. Lucky for me, Ren's favorite metal was silver. Not only did silver give us physical pain, but it also made scars if it was exposed to our raw flesh.

I knew without looking that my body was covered in thin white scars on my stomach and thick lash marks on my back. They were layered, they where interchangeable. My body was a canvas with pictures carved into my skin. Pictures, that when depicted, were the face of anguish. I was a painting titled  'pain and suffering'. I was a collage of torture and tears.  Yet somehow I still had life left in me.

Suddenly loud footsteps echoed through the cellar and I cringed as I recognized the heavy footfalls. Alpha Ren. As he came into view I heard him muttering incoherent words with a few I could barely make out. I just tried to tune it out and reminisce in my last moments of peace.

"Stupid Rouges.......... attack.........alpha," He said angrily under his breath. That caught my attention and I lifted my eyes off of the floor as Ren stopped at my door and yanked out the polished key that unlocked it.

I studied his features and noticed the dark eye bags and unshaven jaw. Ren looked the most unkept I had ever seen him in all of my time here. He always had this cool facade and snarky comments. Now he looked sleep-deprived and haggard.

"Get up you little bitch!" Ren yells and I have to do a double-take to register if he is talking to me. " I said get up you whore!"

I start to shiver as I attempt to stand up on my trembling, weak limbs. I can't recall the last time I used my leg muscles and it is evident that my once toned body was now a puddle of bones. My arms clutch onto the walls for support as I hold onto it like a lifeline. Stabbing pain shoots through my wrists as I lift the heavy silver chains off the floor. The weight on my raw forearms causes my wounds to reopen and fresh blood trails down my arms. I try and stop the sob that is growing in my throat but it is no use.