I woke with a start, cold sweat clinging to my skin. The events of the previous night replayed in my mind, the terrifying image of the wolf-man's glowing eyes seared into my memory. And then what he did to me. The agony he put me through .
My body ached, every muscle protesting as I tried to move. And I was covered in blood due to his relentless assault last night.
I was still lying on the cold ground at the edge of the woods, the first rays of dawn breaking through the trees.
It took a moment for me to gather my thoughts, to remind myself that I had survived the night, the brutality showed on me.
Somehow, against all odds, I was still alive but devastated. But the relief was short-lived. I couldn't shake the feeling that something terrible was still lurking, just out of sight.
With a groan, I forced myself to stand, my legs shaky beneath me. I needed to get back to the village, To cry and wash away how dirty I feel.
I tried to cheer myself up thinking that last night has been my imagination.But deep down, I knew it had been real.
The wolf, the attack, the man, the rape—those things weren't figments of my imagination.
They were all too real, the pains I feel all over my body is proof of it.
The walk back to the Ashford estate felt like it took hours. Every rustle in the trees made my heart race, every shadow seemed to shift and move with a life of its own. By the time I reached the outskirts of the village, I was exhausted, both physically and mentally.
The village was just waking up, the morning routines beginning. I could see the blacksmith opening his shop, the baker setting out fresh loaves of bread, the children already playing in the street. Everything looked so normal, so peaceful. It was hard to believe that the night had been filled with such terror.
I hesitated at the edge of the village, unsure of what to do. Should I tell someone about what had happened? Would they even believe me? Or would they think me an immoral girl, just like Lyla and Lily will claim.
As I stood there, lost in a whirlwind of thoughts, I became aware of the stares.
Slowly, heads turned in my direction, eyes narrowing as they took in my disheveled appearance.
I looked down at myself and gasped. My clothes were torn, hanging in tatters from my body, and dried blood streaked across my skin. I was a mess, and worse, I looked like a ghost of the person who had left the village the night before.
Whispers started to ripple through the crowd, low murmurs that seemed to grow louder with each passing second.
"Look at her," someone said, not bothering to lower their voice. "What happened to her?"
"She must have been up to no good," another voice chimed in. "Nothing good comes from wandering the woods on the week of the full moon."
"Do you think she was cursed? Like the others?" a woman's voice hissed. "That's how it starts, you know. First the dreams, then the forest lures them in…"
I wanted to scream, to shout that they were wrong, that they didn't know what they were talking about. But I couldn't find my voice. The words were trapped in my throat, suffocating me.
As I stumbled further into the village, the crowd seemed to part for me, but not out of kindness.
They kept their distance, as if afraid to touch me, afraid that whatever had happened to me might be contagious. Their eyes were full of judgment, and their whispers burned in my ears.
I kept my head down, trying to block out the noise, but it was impossible. Everywhere I turned, there were more voices, more accusations.
"She must have angered the spirits in the woods," an old man muttered. "The curse is spreading. First her mother, now her. Who knows who will be next?"
"Or maybe she brought this on herself," a young woman sneered. "I've heard the stories. She's always been loose, hasn't she? Maybe this is her true nature coming to light."
Their words cut deeper than any physical wound. I could feel the weight of their judgment pressing down on me, suffocating me. I wanted to run, to hide from their prying eyes, but there was nowhere to go. Nowhere to escape their scorn.
By the time I reached the Ashford estate, I was on the verge of collapse. The house that had never felt like home now seemed like a prison, and the closer I got, the more I dreaded what awaited me inside.
As I pushed open the door, I was greeted by the harsh, mocking laughter of Lyla, my stepmother. She was seated at the kitchen table, a smug smile on her face as she took in my appearance.
Lily, her daughter, was beside her, a cruel smirk playing on her lips.
"Well, well, look who's finally come back," Lyla sneered, her voice dripping with venom. "Had a nice little adventure, did you?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. I was too exhausted, too broken to respond. I just stood there, swaying slightly, trying to hold myself together.
Lyla's eyes narrowed as she looked me up and down, taking in every detail of my torn clothes and bruised skin. "What on earth happened to you?" she demanded, though there was no concern in her voice. Only cold curiosity.
I opened my mouth to speak, but the words wouldn't come. How could I even begin to explain what had happened? How could I make them understand the terror I had faced?
"Cat got your tongue?" Lyla taunted, her eyes gleaming with malice.
"Or maybe you're just too ashamed to admit what you've been up to. Wandering around in the woods at night like some common tramp… I always knew you were trouble."
Lily giggled beside her, covering her mouth with her hand as if she couldn't contain her amusement. "She looks like she's been through hell and back," she said, her voice high and mocking.
"Probably brought it on herself, though. She's always been strange. You know the villagers will be talking, right? Saying she's cursed or something, or maybe that she's a wore." Lily said with a smirk on her face.
Lyla nodded, her expression darkening. "It wouldn't surprise me. There's always been something… off about her. Just like her mother."
Her words struck me like a physical blow. My mother. The one person who had ever cared about me, who had ever treated me with kindness. And now she was being dragged through the mud, just like me.
"You don't know anything about her," I managed to whisper, my voice shaking with anger and pain.
Lyla raised an eyebrow, her expression turning cold. "Oh, don't I?