Aelin (The story of the Alpha Wolf)

[~Aoria-sama~]

Chapter One

“He made her weep.
But she made him see.”

I think I used to matter to someone.  But those days have long since gone. There are no days before these metal bars that confine me so. A cage holding me as if I am some kind of danger, but I am so small - how could I ever hurt anyone?  My skin has long since been scarred from the cold sheet of metal beneath me. Sometimes when I wake I find that my skin has managed to stick to its surface, as if it were some unbreakable adhesive. The pain of ripping myself from the metal stopped hurting long ago - but the damage it has done is irreversible.

XX

My mind has grown numb to the pain.

I’m used to being alone.

XX

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XX

“He kept her locked away.
But she survived.”

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XX
The Crow comes when the lights grow dim. I’ve eaten my last meal of the day, and I know The Crow will be on his way soon.  My heart beats fast and it feels like it might explode, because I don’t know if he will be in a good mood or a bad one.  Sometimes he pokes me with sharp things, and I get sick. Other times he makes me eat new foods that taste good, he calls them ‘treats’ - they aren’t so bad, unless they make me sick too. The Crow gets angry when I get sick, and no matter how much I try to apologize and keep myself from being sick, he hits me. It hurts.
XX
Sometimes he throws me into my cage and calls me useless. Other times he will pat my head and make me feel happy. I like making The Crow happy. He doesn’t hurt me when he’s happy. Life is easier when The Crow is kept happy.
XX

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XX

“He tried to quiet her.
But she sang, she danced.”

The endless monotony of being inside of this cage has little space for learning. Yet as the days go by, I have become accustomed to what some of the words The Crow and his henchmen say and what they probably mean. For instance, when they say the word ‘shot’, I know that in the near future I will be poked and prodded with The Crows' sharp tools.  Or when they say ‘Wolf’, I know they’re talking to me and want me to pay attention. I think Wolf might be my name, I like to think that it is. The word is beautiful and if it is the only part of my miserable life I get to choose, then I choose it to be Wolf. There are words I still don’t understand, like ‘Experiment Failed’, ‘Death’, and ‘Feral Beast Trash’.

XX

I have a bad feeling in my tummy when they say these words, though.

Why am I here?

What is the meaning of my existence?

It’s all I think about.

XX

“He hid her away,
-and she became feral and beautiful.”