The sound of my heartbeat echoes through my chest, steady and strong, like the pulse of the earth itself. Each thundering beat drives me forward, faster, reminding me of the raw power surging through my veins. The air hums with electricity as I run, my footsteps breaking the silence of the night. Moonlight bathes my skin in its cool, calming glow, illuminating the world in silver.
"Moon Goddess, guide me," I whisper into the quiet. For a moment, I feel her presence—an energy that envelops me, cool and tranquil, filling me with a sense of peace. The feeling fades, but I know she has answered. "Thank you," I say, a smile tugging at my lips.
The world around me feels more alive than ever, as if I've been freed from the chains of the mundane. The wind rushes past, tugging at my hair and brushing against my chest. It's sharp, alive—like a lover's touch, caressing me with its power. This is freedom, raw and untamed.
The earth beneath my feet fades, and my focus sharpens, drawing inward. A primal force stirs within, urging me forward with a raw anticipation. My heart quickens, harmonizing with the electricity that surges through my veins. With a sudden leap, the transformation begins.
The air crackles as my muscles coil, an overwhelming energy surging through me. It's delicate yet powerful, a reverent pull, stirring something deep inside. My skin shifts, becoming more than flesh, more than human. I feel the earth's marrow calling to me, pulling me toward an ancient, untamed essence. Heat builds, an electric rush, igniting every fiber of my being as bones crack and reshape.
As I land on the earth, everything changes. Beneath my paws, the ground is softer, as though the very heart of the world pulses within me. The night sings with life—each scent, each sound, a sharp symphony. The dampness of the forest, the crisp scent of pine, the promise of prey. Every detail, every breath, sharpens my senses into a tool for the hunt. The world is mine now wild, free, and alive.
And then boom.
The sudden crash of a textbook slamming against my desk jerks me awake. My heart leaps in my chest, and I blink rapidly, disoriented. For a split second, I don't know where I am, who I am, what just happened. The sound rings in my ears, a sharp, jarring noise, and I look around, wide-eyed, trying to piece everything together.
My hand flinches, clutching at my notebook as if it's the only thing keeping me tethered to this moment. The textbook lies open, pages splayed out like a wounded bird, the force of its fall echoing in my bones. My face flushes with embarrassment as I glance around. Of course. I fell asleep again. The whispers, the quiet laughter, the subtle shifting of students—all of it cuts through me, but it's the sinking feeling in my stomach that really hurts.
My face heats up instantly, and I feel the weight of her gaze settle on me like the heavy textbook she dropped before me. "This is the fifth time this week that you've fallen asleep during my class, Eden," she says, her voice sharp, the disapproval clear in every syllable. "It's a call home to parents this time." She said with a raised and sharp expression on her face.
"Please, don't bother them." I pleaded as anxiety electrified within me.
"Eden, I can't, in good conscience, ignore your behavior," Miss Feathers said, her voice firm. She turned and walked toward the front of the room, her heels clicking sharply against the old wooden floors. Each step felt like a pounding drum in my head.
As the rest of the class slowly inched forward as if time shifted, all I could think about was her calling my parents and the threat that would fall to me when I returned home. I would surely be beaten, maybe starved, and locked in the basement for the weekend. It wouldn't be the first time my father had taken his anger out on me, but this time, he'd have a reason. And that meant my punishment would be far worse.
When the bell rang, it reverberated through me like tiny daggers. Anxiety pricked my skin, and my heart rate quickened. How much time did I have before she called? Before he picked me up from school, drunk and ready to serve my punishment?
"Eden?" Miss Feathers' voice echoed in my head, and panic seeped into my very soul.
"Eden?" Her hand on my shoulder jolted me back to the present. I looked up, fighting the tears that threatened to spill over.
"Sorry, did you say something?" I wiped at my eyes, trying to steady my voice.
"Are you alright?" she asked, her concern palpable.
"No." Anxiety shivered through me. Was I about to tell her what calling my parents would mean for me? The countless bruises painting my stomach alone would make her believe me, but what if she didn't? What if she did, but the cops sided with him?
I'd be dead then. Worse, he'd beat me to the brink of death and leave me hanging between freedom and imprisonment. The thought of freedom sparked a faint zing of hope in me. I took a deep breath, ready to spill everything, ready to risk it all for that hope.
"What's she done now, Meredith?" my father's voice drawled as he staggered through the classroom door, reeking of pot smoke and whiskey. "I knew it soon as she didn't come outta that school. Clear as day, that girl's been stirrin' up trouble again. Ain't no denyin' it she's nothin' but trouble, just like that no-good mama who birthed her." Of course, he had to bring her up the woman they called my mother. The one who left me behind to be abused and neglected by him, the man I was forced to call father. I meant so little to her that she ran from him, leaving me to endure the same torment she couldn't bear.
"Gregory Fair, you reek of liquor and smoke," Miss Feathers declared, her hands firmly planted on her hips. The motherly sternness in her voice was almost enough to make me smilea rare moment of comfort in the chaos. "Driving drunk again? Maybe Sheriff Tilly would be interested to know you're not only driving without a license but also reeking of liquor, strolling into a school like this, and planning to drive a minor home."
"No, ma'am," he said, punctuating his words with a loud, disgusting burp. "You'd best keep that mouth of yours shut before I smack that attitude right off your pretty little face."
"Listen here, Gregory," Miss Feathers snapped, her eyes narrowing. "If you don't march your sorry ass out of my school, I'll make sure Sheriff Tilly finds you a nice, comfy spot in the drunk tank. Eden has been a model student—she's just struggling to stay awake, and I'd bet good money it's because your drunken antics are robbing her of the sleep she needs. I've half a mind to call over to the county right now and have you investigated." My father's face turned beet red, and I could see the wheels turning in his head as his dominant hand clenched into a fist. He was about to punch her.
"No need for that, Meredith," he said, his tone laced with venom. "Trouble's already had enough parents disappearing from her life, don't you think?" He turned to me, his eyes delivering a silent, chilling message: Miss Feathers' defiance would be taken out on me the moment we got home.
"You best be scurrying on, quick, little girl," he sneered before turning on his heel and storming out of the classroom.
"Has he hurt you?" she asked the moment he was gone.
I stood up abruptly, avoiding her gaze as I hastily gathered my things. The quicker I got home, the less severe the punishment would be. If I lingered, his anger would fester, growing even more poisonous with every passing moment.
"I don't have time," I said, slinging my backpack over my shoulder. "If I run home, he won't be so angry."
As I moved to walk past Miss Feathers, she grabbed my arm, halting me in my tracks. Her grip was firm, her eyes filled with concern as she refused to let me go.
"You tell me right now, Eden—has that man hurt you?" she demanded, her voice more stern this time. The sharpness in her tone made me flinch.
"No," I replied through gritted teeth, my jaw clenched tight enough to hurt.
"Eden, if you don't tell me the truth, I can't help you," Miss Feathers said softly as she released my arm. Her voice wavered between frustration and genuine concern. "We all know what a lowlife that man is, but if any of us ever found out he was putting his hands on you, we wouldn't stand for it. He's right about one thing you've had more than enough happen to you already."
Tears flowed down my face as my body shook. Every part of me wanted to tell her, wanted to show her all the pain that man puts me through, but I was afraid. "I can't." I cried out. "If he finds out."
"Eden," Miss Feathers said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "Show me."
I nodded, swallowing hard as I slowly lifted my shirt. The moment she saw the bruises, her face drained of color, and her eyes widened in shock.
"Oh my God," she breathed. "You need to go to the hospital. How long have you had these?"
I could barely meet her gaze, my throat tight. "A while," I mumbled, my voice cracking. "Doesn't matter."
"No, it does matter." Her voice was firm now, but there was a tenderness in it, like she was trying to hold it together for me. "This isn't right, Eden. You shouldn't be carrying this alone."
I pulled my shirt down quickly, suddenly feeling exposed, both physically and emotionally. "I'm fine," I muttered, trying to brush it off, but Miss Feathers wasn't having it.
She stepped closer, her eyes never leaving mine. "No, Eden, you're not fine. And I'm not letting this go. We're getting you help. I'll make sure of it."