: Fear of Wolfsbane

Hannah:

I hadn’t seen Tyrell for almost a week since he last threatened me with one of the deadliest poisons to wolves: wolfsbane.

I was so scared that he might have actually used it. I had to constantly look out for him, just in case. Even though the doctor assured me that he had convinced the alpha to avoid violent means, I still found myself looking over my shoulder every now and then. This was an unknown territory, after all, and I was new here.

It was quiet, save for the beeping sound on the monitor.

Doctor Riley had shown me where the bathroom was, which contained basic necessities I could use, like a toothbrush, toothpaste, scrubs, and the rest.

Every time I freshened up, I was always in a hospital robe. The nurses were a lot of help since I was still wrapped in bandages.

Although I had tried to get them to leave it up to me, they insisted and I didn't know how to feel about that. It was a new feeling having to be served by others.

Today was no different than other days. This has become my routine for the past week. I’d been cooped up here day and night.

The nurse, whose name was Kiera, came in today, dressed in her light blue scrubs and a warm smile on her face. She was the only one who attended to me more frequently.

She always struck up a conversation to check if I was doing any better, if I was in pain, and so on, as part of her routine in changing my bandages.

Since I couldn’t speak, I only nodded and used head gestures.

Today, the doctor accompanied her with a positive attitude and a broad smile.

“How are you feeling today, Hannah?” he asked as he took a seat on the other side of the bed, not obstructing Kiera as she removed the bandages.

I had written my name down the second time the doctor visited. He had brought along a small sheet of paper with a pen; that was the only thing I was willing to write at the moment.

“Oh, right, you don’t speak,” he berated himself, as though he’d forgotten that I hadn’t said a word since they found me.

“Anyway, good news!” Doctor Riley exclaimed. “You’ve been doing pretty well this week, so we’re going to remove the bandages.”

“You’ve healed really fast, which is a good thing, but I still can’t understand why you can’t speak.” He sighed before continuing, “Once I’m done with the final check-ups, you’ll be out of here in no time.”

Kiera had removed the bandages from around my legs and arms, and now she moved on to the one wrapped around my head.

These bandages were a nuisance to me, and I didn’t like them. I was quite happy to hear that I was fully healed, though I still wondered why I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t come up with an answer.

I even asked the doctor on the notepad he’d given me, and he mentioned something about hysterical trauma.

He said that I might still feel pain within me and in my mind, which prevented me from speaking.

I didn’t doubt him much because, deep down, I was still scared—scared that my voice had actually been ripped out by my brothers, scared that if I spoke, I’d be punished or, worse, killed.

Kiera had finished removing all the bandages, which she disposed of in a trash can before excusing herself.

“You’ll be fine, dear,” Doctor Riley assured me as he noticed my distant stare.

I cast my gaze toward my hands, which lay on my thighs. Everything wasn’t going to be fine—maybe for them, but not for me. I felt I would only become a nuisance, someone everyone despised.

I was being held because I was from another pack, locked up, unable to do more than bathe, eat, and sleep, it was only a matter of time before they realized just how useless I had always been.

On the plus side, I’d soon be able to leave this dreaded room. I was tired of the colors and everything, the routine as well, it only made me further sick.

“Mark’s going to bring in your meal,” he said. He waited for some sort of response from me, but I had nothing to say. He realized that as he continued.

“I have a few questions I’d like to ask you before I discharge you, alright?” He handed me his booklet and a pen.

“Who did this to you?” His voice had softened.

As he asked, I remembered Heather and my brothers, and I couldn’t help but fidget in fear, cowering backwards and inching into myself.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, or if it’s too much for you,” he reassured me.

He placed a comforting hand on mine, which was still trembling, but I shrank away.

He withdrew, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender.

“How about easier questions, then? Ones that won’t trigger any...” he trailed off and I couldn't have been more grateful for his understanding.

“What about your parents?” he asked. I slowly scribbled the word dead on the paper and turned it to him.

He hummed before apologizing. “I’m sorry to hear that.” I didn’t mention my adopted mother, but who would care about that anyway?

“Is there anything you can tell me about your former pack, Hannah?” he asked, his eyes full of concern.

I wondered what the Ravens Fall pack had done to him.

I shook my head. I knew nothing about my former pack other than cleaning, being beaten, and running errands. I was pretty sure that wasn’t what he was asking.

“I need you to think again, Hannah. It’s important that you tell me the truth now. Anything at all that you can remember, maybe something Alpha Jax—” He hadn’t finished his sentence before I began to shake again.

That name alone terrified me.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said, grabbing my hands to try and calm my panic attack, which didn’t help.

It took a few minutes before I finally calmed down.

“I’m sorry. It looks like you’ve gone through a lot to react like this,” he said gently, releasing my hands, casting a sad depressed look with his brows knitted closer to each other.

"But I must warn you, though, these questions must be answered—maybe not now, but if you want to assure me that you are not a threat, then…" he trailed off.

As we sat in silence, there was a knock at the door.

"Ah! Must be Mark with your meal," he exclaimed, his smile returning.

He walked over to the door and opened it.

On the other side of the door was not Mark, but rather the beta of the pack, Beta Tyrell.

"Oh! Beta Tyrell," he exclaimed before continuing, "I wasn’t expecting you this early," he whispered, though I caught it anyway.

The Beta ignored the doctor's surprise at his arrival as he entered the room, and that was when Mark arrived as well.

"Why didn’t you tell me the Beta was here?" Doctor Riley asked Mark, who carried a tray of food into the room. He set it down on the nightstand beside me, then bowed to the Beta before stepping over to Doctor Riley.

"I only just got here. How was I supposed to know?" he countered before exiting the room.

Doctor Riley sighed and looked upon Tyrell with a pleading expression, then looked at me with pity.

It was as if he knew what was about to happen.

Tyrell stood in front of me with a paper and a pen in hand, his face devoid of emotion as he stretched out his hand to pass me the items.

I took the items from his steady hands with my own shaky ones.

Doctor Riley stepped forward and tried to reason with Tyrell once more.

"Sir, I don’t think she’s ready yet. I’ve already asked all the questions; there’s no need for this," he said in a hushed, hurried voice.

"Doctor Riley, stand aside. Who knows if you asked the right questions?" Tyrell replied, his brows drawing closer in annoyance.

"I have asked all the questions, and as a medical professional, I say she is not fit to answer these questions. She has gone through trauma that triggers panic attacks at certain words, phrases, or even names. Don’t do this yet," Doctor Riley insisted, still speaking hurriedly.

An argument was struck between the both of them.

"You are so gullible, Doctor Riley. And what makes you think she’s telling the truth? You take pity on her, which might be exactly what she wants," Tyrell finished coldly, now turning to face the doctor fully.

A chill ran down my spine at such an intense and heated gaze.

They didn’t seem to care that I was right there, hearing every word they exchanged.

I was grateful that the doctor believed me, but he was not the one who ran the pack or held the second-highest authority.

The doctor glanced at me with pity, but also with caution.

"Sir, now you’re questioning my profession," he retorted, turning to face the Beta again.

Tension began to rise in the air.

I was surprised that the doctor would stand up for me like this. Why would he do something like this for someone he barely knew?

Maybe it wasn’t just about me; maybe it was his sense of ethics. Nevertheless, I was grateful.

"Doctor Riley, you are excused. I don’t know what she’s been feeding you all this while, but I’ll be sure to get it out of her," Tyrell said as he turned away from the doctor and walked over to my bedside, where I still lay.

"Leave," Tyrell ordered.

The doctor had no choice but to obey, as Tyrell had issued a command order. I could feel the power in his voice, which made me whimper as well.

Doctor Riley bowed his head before opening the door and leaving.

Once the door closed, silence filled the room. I could only look at my disheveled fingers as I bowed my head.

"I’m not going to ask you anything, but you need to write down everything you know about your pack," he said, gesturing to the notepad he’d given me earlier.

His command voice weighed heavily on me, and I quickly took the pen and started to write everything I knew.

And honestly, what I knew wasn’t much. I wrote about the alpha, how he treated his pack members—basically anything I remembered.

When I gave him back the pad, he looked it over and asked, "Is this a joke? What am I supposed to do with this?"

His expression soured by the second.

He tossed the paper back at me, and I quickly reached for it, scribbling down, That’s all I know. I wasn’t really a core member of the pack.

He picked up the pad, read it once more, and then chuckled before tossing it back onto the bed.

After a short chuckle, his face returned to its usual stoic expression.

"And you expect me to believe you?" he asked.

I didn’t know what else to say at that point. I hadn’t expected him to believe me, anyway.

"Guess what? I don’t," he answered himself.

"Since you’ve decided not to confess, I guess I’ll have to resort to more violent means," he said, taking something out of his pocket. The bright purple liquid in the vial was unmistakable—I knew exactly what it was.

I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I began to thrash and struggle, tears welling up in my eyes as I tried to plead.

It was wolfsbane, one of the deadliest poisons to werewolves. It wouldn’t kill, but it would put one through unimaginable pain, depending on the exposure level.

"Are you willing to tell me the truth now?" he asked.