Alpha [Epsilon #3] {ON-HOLD}

|05| Alienated

(adj.) experiencing or inducing feelings of isolation or estrangement

I stared after Zion's retreating form. My eyes stung at his obvious rejection, and a fist tightened around my throat as I watched him disappear into the undergrowth. An impulsive part of me wanted to run after him, to ask why he'd been adamantly avoiding me for the last month, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. Sure, my social skills weren't anything spectacular, but if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that walking away spelt a big and clear 'don't talk to me.'

Something glimmered in my peripheral, and I glanced back into the clearing. The crystal decanter glared at me accusingly. Heart in my throat, I dashed over and picked it up by the neck, staring at the amber residue in the bottom.

A knot tightened in my chest. This was my fault, I knew. Zion had taken the worst of Azriel's punishments so that I wouldn't have to. He'd stuck his neck out for me, again and again and again, and obviously it had taken its toll. A naïve part of me had hoped it wouldn't, but, well... even werewolves weren't immune to the effects of PTSD.

The knife in my heart twisted as I recalled being in that dark jail cell, so starved and afraid and defeated. Zion had been my light in the dark; the undying hope that insisted we stay alive for a miracle. He'd talked to me for hours in those cells just to distract me from my misery, even while his own wounds were fresh and bleeding. I couldn't even remember what we'd talked about – our lives, our pasts, our hopes for the future, despite the latter seeming impossible at the time. Whenever we'd been given rations, he'd always give me a generous portion of his food, despite me insisting that he needed to eat as well. He'd always just chuckle and tell me: 'It's fine, Alia, I grew up in the Eastern Court. I can endure worse things than hunger.'

I couldn't say exactly when it happened, or even why, but at some point during our imprisonment I'd grown fond of Zion. Maybe "love" was the correct term for that fluttering feeling in my chest whenever I saw him, but I didn't have any evidence to base that off. Back in high school, boys never gave me the time of day, but Zion... Zion wasn't like them. He was always kind to me, and while I knew I never stood a chance with him – for many reasons – he'd cared for me. At least... he used to. Now, it was like that kindness had been dampened by what was inevitably a heavy trauma, and that stung more than anything.

He was suffering. Drowning. And there was nothing I could do to help.

I dropped the decanter back to the ground with a thunk! Tears welled in my eyes. If I hadn't so stupidly believed Azriel when came to me with news of Kyra's whereabouts, if I'd known his secret agenda, then maybe Zion wouldn't be so damaged. If he hadn't had me to look out for, if he hadn't needed to take my punches, then he maybe would be better off. Maybe that alone would have been enough to save him from whatever demons plagued him now.

I shook my head of the thoughts. Unhelpful thoughts, Alia, I reminded myself, in the same tone my old therapist, Dr. Evans, would have used. You didn't know Azriel had an ulterior motive. He was the first person to mention Kyra's name and whereabouts in a year – of course you were going to believe him. Back then, you would have done anything to get Kyra back.

I grimaced. It had been hard to deal with Kyra's disappearance. Her name had been wiped from everyone's memories, and I felt like a crazy person for remembering. I think my breaking point was when I'd gone to Mr. and Mrs. Aetos' house, only to find that they had no recollection of their daughter either.

To this day, I'd been the only one to remember her. I still didn't know why. Nobody did.

I looked back to the decanter on the grass. None of that mattered anymore. Zion was damaged and I was... well, I didn't even know what my status was. My brain had this strange ability to compartmentalise every bad memory into little drawers, locking them away in the back of my mind. It wasn't a healthy way to deal with trauma, and my old therapist had told me as much. She'd always encouraged me to face my traumas and work through them, even if it meant re-living them. I'd been able to do that for my past issues because most of them had stemmed from bullying, but what I'd endured those past eight months... it was much more complicated than name-calling or body-shaming or any other awful thing I'd endured in the past. In all honesty, I doubted I could ever truly let go of this even if I tried. So, I kept the memories locked firmly away at the back of my mind, and for the most part, they remained there.

Still, it didn't stop the nightmares. Though they were sparse, they were awful when they happened. Though, based off Zion's current condition, I had I feeling I was getting off easy.

Blowing out an unsteady breath, I turned on my heel and headed back to the court. I trudged for several minutes through the undergrowth; my mind lost to a plethora of thoughts. When I emerged from the forest, I stopped short.

I stared towards the nearest group of Thetas training just thirty yards away. Immediately, several pairs of eyes were on me, all of varying degrees of disdain and disgust. I watched as the Thetas nudged one another, pointing in my direction and muttering among themselves. I put my head down and continued to walk around them, painfully aware of the heat forming in my cheeks, and the venomous words that were exchanged between them. 

"That Upsilon's back again..."

"How are the Alpha and Luna even okay with her being here?"

"You can see the humanness on her face. She's so fucking ugly, dude."

My face scrunched with anguish. Didn't they know that I could hear them? That I had that stupidly enhanced werewolf hearing too?

Maybe they did and didn't care. I mean, why would they? I was an Upsilon, and to them, that was the worst crime in the world. Maybe it was because of what my status represented, or maybe Upsilon was too closely tied with 'humanness' for their liking.

But didn't they know that I wasn't like the other Upsilons under Azriel's control? Didn't they know that I was on their side, and that I was werewolf just like them? That my humanity had been taken a long time ago?

I swallowed, hard. No matter what I'd tried to do this past month, I hadn't been able to conform to their ways. My ASD made it hard to socialize by default, and as far as I could gather, werewolves weren't very accepting of neurological diversity – to the point where I wondered if their kind suffered from any neurodivergency at all. But even if I could socialise with them, that couldn't detract from the sensory overload I got whenever I shifted into my wolf. It felt physically painful, and every time I tried to shift, I'd just freak out and revert to my human form. I'd already done it a few times in front of the Thetas, so now a rumour had spread that I was crazy, too. To say it was embarrassing would be an understatement.

Either way, I felt very alone in this world. With Zion avoiding me like the plague and Kyra holed up in her room most days, I was left to fend for myself, with nobody to lean on for advice. I didn't even know where to begin with this werewolf stuff – this world was still so new to me. So far, all I'd been doing was bumbling around and making myself look more the fool, all while managing to further the resentment the court people harboured for me.

After an excruciatingly painful walk to the court's back entrance – while somehow managing to garner the attention of several other Theta groups during that time – I made it past the wide double doors and broke into a run. I sobbed as I ran up the grand staircase, running through the halls to locate the room I'd been kindly assigned to by the Luna. Upon finding it, I locked the door behind me and instantly sunk to the vinyl floor, my heart spilling out of me in waves.

Even after all this time, I was still weak. A liability. The worst part? I had no idea how to fix it. And it would only be a matter of time before this werewolf world ate me alive.