Bella Hale: Peter Hale's Daughter-A Teen Wolf FanFiction

CHAPTER 62: EICHEN HOUSE

She wakes up in a dark room. The only sounds come from screaming  nearby.

She's cold.

Alone. 

Her back throbs from laying on the so-called bed she would be sleeping on. Feeling absolutely terrified.

She cries out pleading for help and mercy. Crying for her father. Sobbing into the darkness as the fear takes hold.

A guard appears, sneering.

She's only thirteen

And yet, this is her terrible fate.

Elsewhere, Peter wasn't surprised that he was there. He was even pleased to find out that that idiot pack of children had put him in the Eichen House and not tried to kill him again.

He figured out in the next few minutes why. His cellmate, Valack, was worse than any painful death they could have given him. He didn't make the mistake twice and never looked again in that evil third eye of his.

It made the wolf cringe just at the thought of it.

Months had passed. Peter didn't sleep well at night. Or day. He didn't know what time of the day it was.

Valack had asked him questions, tried to make up a conversation like he always did, but Peter never said a thing. He kept everything to himself.

​​Peter stared at the ceiling and listened to the world around him. The sounds of pointless struggle and frantic whispering and screaming seeped in, even through the thick walls. They were the kind of relentless ear shattering screams that came from knowing no one is listening, no one cares. It sounded a lot like the inside of his head.

Peter screamed at first too. He screamed and growled and raged, even with his human features staying stubbornly in place. He knew they were poisoning him. He smelled it in the stale recycled air they pumped into his cell. He couldn't shift. They were keeping him weak as a kitten, feeding him just enough to sustain him.

Eventually Peter gave up on screaming and began to spend a lot of time in his own head. He'd imagine all the different places he'd rather be until that hurt too much to continue. Faces from his past would come up unbidden and the pain would rip him right into the present. Peter had tried to get rid of feelings like regret, but it was awfully hard to not regret the series of events that left him neutered and caged like a forgotten stray.

Memories couldn't hurt him anymore. None of it really mattered. He thought about Malia and realized he'd never really thought of her as his daughter until then. He selfishly let himself hate her as though she were a stranger and really that's what she was. He never loved her, never even gave himself the chance.  He tried to remember if he loved anyone.

Peter didn't love things he couldn't see himself in. He loved himself because he understood and forgave and excused himself. He protected himself and fought for himself. No one else did that. And yet, there was one person that he'd truly cared about and that was Bella.

Peter was rarely interested in anyone beyond what they could do for him. Bella was different. From the moment she was born, Bella was the exception to every rule Peter thought he'd had.

The very thought of his favorite daughter lingers in his head. Peter didn't know what had become of Bella after the events of La Iglesia. He did not know if she was safe. It pained him so much.

Back in her cell, Bella was struggling so much. She was depressed. In agony. Alone. She wanted to hurt herself. She wanted to die. She had given up screaming for help. Calling her father's name.

It was very difficult for a werewolf to commit suicide, but she was determined. Eichen House was a trap she couldn't escape. Her shattered mind was an even worse one.