adjective ~ existing alone

POLLUX

I have never felt so empty.

Loneliness was not a kind friend.

The deep ache in my gut never left. For a while now I have grown used to the hunger pains, and the darkness surrounding me only honoured the reminder of how empty I felt.

They continued to take my blood at intervals. I wasn't sure if it was every day, every few hours, or every week. I did not know time or reality, and I knew I was shutting down. Only my arms were tied by the shackles around my wrists. I didn't leave the ground, stuck in the same square room with no escape. I knew the door didn't have a handle on this side; one of the first things I did when I could walk was feel around.

No windows, switches or sockets, either.

There was a fan in the room, something I only knew by the soft whirring every so often. With only just enough room for me to lie flat on my back, it had to be a storage closet. A wolf like Phoenix would be scrunched up in here. But then again, a wolf like Phoenix wouldn't get caught.

How did Harriet know who I was?

Why did she work with them?

No longer did I have sympathy for her. In the beginning, her cries and sense of fear did something to me. But now I didn't care. She put me here; she went through with it. Whatever sick plan she had made worked.

I was trapped and blind without a wolf or a pack connection. Too far from home, I couldn't communicate with Nova even if I tried.

And trust me, I tried.

She had to know where I was.

She was gifted.

But then again, she is pregnant. Pregnant Nova tends to not have wolfish abilities.

I sighed, adjusting my position against the wall. It was a cool cement, and my body had adapted to the cool, stuffy room by now. The fan in the ceiling did little to circulate the air; just enough to keep me alive, I guess.

I wish this wasn't my life.

I wish I didn't have this blood in my veins. I wish I had died with my parents.

Forever, I would have this target on my back.

Look at me! My blood is unique and pure! I can heal your every ailment! Come and get it!

I may as well just cut myself as I walk, let them lick it fresh from the wounds.

Because I sure as hell wouldn't have anyone to do that for me.

Forever stuck to a life of misery and solitude. I had no mate, no partner. Nova was my sister, but even she had her own little family now.

I have travelled most of the continents this side of the world, and never found my mate. Even if she was on another one, I doubt I'd get the chance to cross the ocean and find out.

I had to get out of here before that happened, and that wasn't looking likely.

Fighting blind had never been so on the nose.

I wasn't sure who had me.

The male I assumed was in charge had a voice that sounded familiar, but I have met way too many male voices in my life to pinpoint a face to it. And without my sense of smell, I couldn't figure it out.

The ones that took my blood were timid, but the ones that washed me were harsher. I have only had the one was, and the harsh loss of my hair lingered every time I turned my head.

I really just wished that I knew how long I have been here.

That would at least give me a sense of normality. I could pinpoint their routine then.

My mind has never felt so vacant. Without my wolf, my pack, my soul, there wasn't a lot happening in there. It made time passing a blur, and I knew if I had that small pinch of reality, I could figure out my body clock too.

The door opened, but I didn't bother raising my head from my knees. It felt like mere hours since they last took my blood, but time was strange in here, so I didn't question it.

A hand curled around my forearm, tugging it from my small grip. I cried out in alarm, trying to pull it back with no use. My arms were curled around my knees. They could take my blood like that. They have every time before!

"Stand up!"

That wasn't the person who took my blood. It wasn't the one that brought me food. It was one that bathed me, and my entire body froze at the realisation.

Were they going to hose me down again?

I wrestled in their grip, trying to pry their hands from my skin. My heart raced in my chest, unused to the sudden stimulation, and I gasped for breath.

"Just pull him up."

My head snapped in the direction of that voice, the same voice as before. The male sounded like he was in a hallway, and I assumed they had left the door open. I blinked, hoping that I'd magically have my vision back.

But I didn't.

Nothing was coming back.

Not now, not today, and not tomorrow.

My momentary distraction was enough for the bather to yank me from the ground. He forced my arms in a twisted motion, and I hissed with the sharp pain that rippled down my arm.

Everything hurt when I stood, and my head swam with dizziness. As the bather pulled me forward, I stumbled, my knees crumbling. He growled, curling his other hand under my armpit and pulling me up to stand.

"I said stand," He hissed.

I whimpered. "I can't."

My voice was harsh and raspy, cutting my throat like knives. I hardly used it. I didn't need to cry out anymore. The last time I used it was when they cut my hair. I haven't touched my head or neck since. Not yet.

I didn't want to know, or feel, what it was like without that part of me.

Before I could react, the hands swiftly moved me. I cursed, wriggling in their grip, but they dug their claws into my side, drawing blood. I froze, remaining placid instead of retaliating. The male beneath me started to walk, and my head swayed with the momentum.

For a moment, I wondered if this was what Nova felt like whenever Phoenix handled her.

She hated it.

I didn't blame her. All the blood rushed to your head, and it was extremely, extremely deliberating. I felt ashamed of being carried, felt useless being able to be picked up and placed in such a stupid position. Like I was a fashion accessory, just for show. Or I was a prop, an unwanted jacket or sack of potatoes.

It was just another reminder that I was useless and vulnerable compared to these people.

I hated it too.

I concluded that they stole my vision and not my eyes when I realised moving rooms didn't flicker over my eyelids. The change of scenery was faint enough I recognised it by hearing alone.

"Wash him. I can't stand the smell of him." The lead male grunted.

If blood could turn cold, mine was ice. I knew I didn't smell nice; even my dulled sense of smell told me the stench of piss and sweat was strong.

I squirmed, begged, and bargained with the man to leave me alone.

My pleas, once more, went unnoticed. Forced into a chair, I did the first thing I could think of; run.

I didn't get far before his hand was slamming into my chest, forcing me back into it. The force sent the chair to the floor, with me inside of it. The pain up my spine was harsh enough to wind me, and I lay, blinded and gasping for breath as the metal dug into my skin.

He was grumbling as he titled the chair back up with me still on top of it. It landed on all fours, and I slumped over my thighs, my hand clutching my chest. My head pulsated with the blood rushing through my ears, and I knew if I tried to stand, I'd be collapsing to the floor again.

My head tingled, the faint warning of my wolf and gift rippling through my mind. What did it want? Now and then it would pester me, and I grew tired of the one-sided bond. There was a wall we couldn't cross; a border that stopped us from communicating.

I forced it back as I always did, handling this on my own.

My hands were pulled forward, one shackle being untied. I squirmed, pulling my arm back to my side as hard as I could. But the male growled, yanking it down and almost snapping the bone. I whimpered as he tied it to the chair, leaving me with an anchor.

Once again, the utter humiliation of being stripped bare occurred, and caused an entirely new fight within me.

I hated being stripped.

I hated being touched.

I hated being vulnerable.

I felt like a child.

Like an unworthy opponent.

I kicked and scratched, latched onto whatever I could with my human nails and teeth. The male didn't harm me, didn't hurt me more than he already had, despite the wrestling match. It was as though I was an octopus, and he was trying to force me back into my tank.

But I already knew freedom. I already knew what it was like on the other side of that tank, and I didn't want to go back there.

I wanted to get out.

Without my vision or sense of direction, I didn't see the fist come swinging my way. It collided with my face, and my head spun, the chair rocking with the momentum. A sharp cry of pain turned into frustrated tears of anguish as my cheek and temple lit up in flames.

"It is best you don't fight, Pollux."

It was the leader, and his harsh breath was warm against my neck. He was leaning over me, that much I was certain, holding the chair to the ground as the other male continued to remove my trousers.

A finger swiped beneath my chin, and over my mouth, and the man sighed. "Waste of good blood."

"Fuck you." I seethed.

He didn't react, chuckling as his presence left my side. I heard his footsteps walk away, but then the switch of tap sent my body back into its panic mode.

They weren't gentle when they washed me. The lukewarm chill of a hose accompanied the rough grazing of a soapy cloth against my skin. I wasn't sure if it was a shower hose or a garden house, but the water was fat and bounced off my skin in large splatters.

I was just an animal.

Shaved, experimented on, and bathed with a damn hose.

I could tell the male hated this as much as I did, and the worst part came when he practically drowned me with the hose at the end. He did it last time too; forced my face and head under the current by the throat until I couldn't breathe. I hated it. I hated him.

I hate it here.

It took me choking on the water and gurgling for him to release my neck and turn off the water.

I was just grateful that tears were the same colour.

This time, he patted me dry with a towel. I barely called it dry, but it was better than being drenched. He even ran it over my head with a sharp grumble, and I ignored the way my 'hair' dried instantly. No more sticking to the nape of my neck.

They pulled another pair of trousers over my legs, and to my utter surprise, they also put on a t-shirt. The metal chair was still partially damp, but I was just grateful that he gave me a shirt. I didn't enjoy being so exposed, even at home.

He uncuffed me from the chair and took my hands into his to re-cuff them. I flinched at his harsh touch; his hands were rough, and I knew exactly what they could do.

His hand curled under my armpit before he hoisted me over his shoulder. Humiliating me once again.

We didn't walk far this time before I was placed on my feet. I stumbled at the blood rush, blindly rubbing my eyes.

"No use, Pollux. You know you can't see."

It was the leader.

I remained silent; my teeth clenched with apprehension.

Finally. I could get some information.