AYLA

Beep beep...beep beep...beep beep...

The most annoying and disappointing sound reached my ears. As soon as I heard that noise...I knew that I was in the calm darkness I was craving. I was still in the world where I had chains tying me down to this messed up reality. 

When I opened my eyes, they felt heavy. It was like I was resisting to even open my eyes because it just confirmed that my soul was still in a prison. 

Light seeped through my lids. I was in the typical hospital room. It was empty, except for the hunched over figure that was leaning on my bed. Solomon.

I breathed quietly and slowly moved away from him, hoping he wouldn't wake. I gulped as I looked down at my hands.

I felt guilty for doing what I did. It was selfish. I knew that it was a bad decision. I knew that I was only thinking of myself. But at the same time, I was so desperate for peace and safety. I am craving some kind of relief...and that was the only type that I knew. I didn't want to feel, I didn't want to deal with things. I just wanted everything to go away. I wanted to be weak for once and for someone else to be strong for me. 

However, I knew that the decision I made was wrong. I couldn't take the easy way out. I couldn't do that to Milo. My heart hurt and I felt ashamed. I pressed my hand against my mouth to try and hold in a cry. I almost left my baby behind. I almost left Milo alone. He can't be alone because he's my baby. He is MY BABY...and I almost lost him. I took a deep breath. I won't do this ever again. I can't do that to Milo. I will live for him, even if I am miserable and have no desire to live...I will live for him.

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I wasn't looking forward to my life. I wasn't looking forward to holding this crippled heart. My life won't be a good one...and it won't be an easy one. 

A sob escaped my mouth and I immediately held it shut with my hand. My body racked with silent cries. I didn't want to live. I wanted to die so badly.I never felt such a strong desire to die before. I pressed my other hand on my chest. I felt the gaping wound that had never healed...and it probably won't ever heal. It won't even scar because the wound will always be fresh, reminding me of every moment of pain that continues to torment me.

Solomon jerks awake. His eyes were bloodshot as they widen at the sight of my conscious state. He instantly sits up straight and leans forward. 

"Ayla," he whispers to himself, "H-how are you feeling? Do you feel any discomfort? I can get the healer or maybe even the nurse if you really want to?"

I sit silent and just shake my head. I gulped as I looked at Solomon. He looked like a mess. His hair was greasy and messy, he was pale with purple bags under his eyes. His had a little bit of stubble on his face too. 

"Where's Milo?" I asked quietly. 

"He's back at the pack house. I thought it would be best if he didn't see his mother like this." I nodded my head. It was probably best. I didn't want him to see me like this. 

We sat in silence for a long time. I guess there is just nothing to say really. He saw what happened to me, and he probably knows why. I didn't need to explain anything. 

I sighed, "You had never let me be happy before. You didn't like it when I smiled. And now...now you won't let me die. Why can't you just let me go."

Solomon shook his head, "I couldn't let you die...you're too important."

I shook my head and fell into silence. We were both silent for a while. 

But then a thought pressed into my mind, "If you didn't come in time...and I was already gone...what would you have told, Milo?"

Solomon looked at me, then the red and white roses. He was quiet. I think he was processing the question. He started to squint his eyes slightly and he started to run his thumb up and down his neck. I internally smirked, he always did that when he was deep in thought. 

He leaned closer to me and rested his elbows on my bed. His eyes raised and met mine, "I would have told him," Solomon said, "That his mother loved him with all her heart. And that she fought her hardest to keep him safe. She was strong."

Tears welled up in my eyes and they fell freely. Strong. The one words I hated the most right now. I shook my head, "I'm not strong," I whispered. I knew that if I spoke any louder that I would probably sob. 

"You are strong, Ayla. You're the strongest people I know."

I slam my hands on the side of my bed and shout, "I don't want to be strong anymore!"

Solomon was silent. He stared at me with a mixture of emotions that I couldn't decipher, "what do you mean, Ayla?"

I shook my head and released a shaking sigh, "I am tired of being strong. I am tired of fighting. I don't want to fight anymore. I want to be weak! I want to crumble into a little ball and cry! Because I am sick of being the one to fight!"

I looked into my hands and close my eyes. I didn't want to fight. I felt a strong warmth in my hands. I open and see Solomon was holding them tightly in his. I didn't pull away. And I think  I didn't want to. Feeling the mating pull. The sparks that electrify every cell in my body...it comforted me. It allowed me to relax. It made the weight on my heart feel a little bearable.

I looked up and my breath hitched. He was so close to me. He was sitting on the bed leaning towards me.

"You don't need to fight anymore, little wolf. You don't need to be strong." Hearing those words. it was strange. I have been fighting and being strong for so long that when I hear someone telling me that I didn't need to anymore...it felt good. It felt like I was released. I close my eyes and I sighed. My body sagged against the bed. I felt myself slowly drift away. 

Warmth pressed on my forehead. Solomon's lips. He pressed firmly against me. As if he was meaning something. And then he whispered, "I will fight for you, little wolf. I will be strong for you. For you and our son."

AYLA

It's been a week since the accident. I was released yesterday from the hospital with the promise that I will rest. Also for my mental health, I was advised to keep a diary. I have to do a daily log for three months and then I have to read over it. 

I was currently in bed. I had thick bandages over my wrists. Solomon has been changing them every day, for me. Which I surprisingly didn't mind. Mia was doing it at first, but because she was pregnant, she was getting wearier. However, it was no shock when Solomon volunteered to do it in her stead. 

I looked outside and saw it was sunny. I remember always looking out the window at the attic. Whenever there was any sun, I would have such a deep yearning to go out and sit on the grass, or better yet, the sand at the beach. I remember always being sad because I wanted Milo to experience that, but he couldn't. 

Speaking of my son, he burst through the door with a big smile, I couldn't help but reflect his emotions too. He jumped on the bed next to me, still very cautious and gentle.

"Ma look! Pa said that I got a tan! I never had one before!" Now that he said it, I noticed he was quite dark. It was his italian blood from his father. 

"I see that baba. You look so golden!"

Milo laughed and nodded his head, "Yeah! I bet lamp would be so happy! I wish lamp and the sun could meet, I think they would get along really well."

I laughed, "I think you're right Baba. They would probably be best friends." Milo had such a funny sense of humor. He always knew how to make me laugh.

"Are you feeling better, Ma?"

I nodded my head, "I am. Seeing you makes me feel better."

Milo smiled brightly at me. 

"Milo your lunch is ready!" I heard Zay yell from downstairs. Milo's eyes widen in excitement. 

"Food!" He exclaimed. He jumped up off the bed and sprinted out of the room, however, a few seconds later he ran back in and jumped on the bed. He kissed me on the cheeks and ran away saying, "Love you, Ma!"

I laughed and shook my head. I looked down at my wrists and I sighed. Even though I loved Milo, something in me wishes that Solomon didn't save me. But like I thought before, it was a bad decision. But a decision wanted to make.

"It sounds good hearing you laugh." I look up and see Solomon leaning against the door. 

I shrug my shoulders, "Milo is a funny kid."

Solomon kicks off the door and slowly made his way towards me, "Yeah he is. He knows how to make his mother laugh."

Solomon sits on the chair next to the bed and releases a big sigh, "How're you feeling?"

"Better. My wrists don't feel so itchy anymore, so that's good."

Solomon nods, "Good."

I was silent. I didn't know what to say to him. Ever since I almost died...I felt differently about him. I don't hate him anymore, but I don't like him at all. I tolerate him. It's easier than hating. I don't have enough strength to hate him anymore. But definitely, do not like him. I guess you can call that progress if you want to. 

"Well, I guess I'll let you rest," Solomon said as he got up. 

"Wait!" I quickly stopped him, "The last real conversation we had was at the graveyard. I wanted to know...how did my father die?"

Solomon sat back in his chair, he cautiously looked at me, "A lot has happened since you've been gone. We had a battle with the rogues a few years ago in order to save Lizzy. He died fighting for the pack."

My stung as I felt them moisten again.I gulped and nodded my head silently. I looked up at him and whispered, "Thank you for telling me."

I could see Solomon had pain telling me this. He nodded his head, "I visited him often, you know?"

My brows rose in surprise, "My father?"

He nodded his head, "I would go there for dinner, once a month. We would always have chicken pasta."

I smiled, "That's because that was the only thing he knew how to cook."

Solomon laughed, "That's probably true. We would talk about everything. Our main subject of conversation was always you."

I gulped as he continued, "Your father loved you very much, Ayla. He would always pray for your safety and happiness every night."

I nodded my head. I couldn't say anything. Just hearing that makes me want to burst into tears.

Solomon sigh and stood from the chair and quietly exited the room.