His Little Mischief

26

t w e n t y - s i x| a l e x a n d r i a
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You know what's funny?

My luck. My life. Myself.

I'm a whole fucking joke. I'm the best fucking comedian of the century!

I'm a whole ass puppet being played around to entertain an audience by a puppeteer. In the crowd were the same merry rogues and my family, clapping and smiling.

And there was the younger me: standing on the stage, being used and played around like some toy, wondering if I was able to make them laugh.

Now, I laugh to myself, realizing I haven't change since.

The me now was still hopeless and vulnerable. I still wonder if I was enough—if my family would ever search for me and take me back.

And I ask myself—even when my own brother shot me with Wolfsbane that didn't show its effects until now—,"Do they still love me?"

Since my luck is incredible, I didn't even have to waste my energy and time searching for Ian like I planned to just so that I could give Theo the answers he wanted.

I had the answers in the very palms of my hand.

If only Theo had waited one more day.

Because the same burning and uncontrollable sensation the day after Theo left told me the answer to my question.

I wake up to the familiar burn igniting in me—the same burn that those vile rogues had given my wolf and I. It was the exact replicate pain that Aconitum, better known as Wolfsbane, had given me before I escaped and turned into a Lone Wolf.

My skin was red-hot to the touch, but I shiver uncontrollably as a cold sensation travels up my spine and all over my body. My throat felt drier than ever and I scratch at in hopes of driving the pain away.

But that wasn't the awful thing about it.

The poison was making me lose control, forcing my wild wolf to the surface.

I don't let her.

I can't.

Even when the poison was gnawing at me to let her out. Even when it sent an aching pain to my head and made it throb awfully.

Because if I did, then I'd be dancing among a pile of dead wolves.

The poison was making me feel uncontrolled. My mind was in a pool of frantic thoughts and manic desires. I was in such a state of disorder and I was fighting myself to keep my wolf in.

So I laugh dryly to myself, not believing that I'd let myself be used and attacked by my family and those rogues again.

I was stupid for not having any suspicions when Ian shot me with that arrow in a way that it didn't kill me.

He just wanted to feed me poison once again.

Why?

I curl myself into a fetus position, clutching the blanket to ease the coldness that bit at me. My body on the other hand, sweated from the heat that somehow clung itself unto my skin.