I stood alone in my dimly lit room, surrounded by a veil of silence that allowed my thoughts to echo through the caverns of my mind.
I knew I was about to embark on a daring journey, one that would force me to confront my past, my fears, and the very people who had once inflicted immeasurable pain upon me.
But I was not the same fragile girl who had been beaten to the brink of death. I was different now, stronger, both physically and emotionally.
At least I thought so.
It was as Diana had stated it; the Queen had announced the party two days prior, but only to the eligible representatives of varying families who had shared the information to their family members.
Dim had communicated the same to Peter since he was the representative of their family-he had done that in the center square to make a fool of himself rather, for Laura had already gotten a special invitation from the Queen herself.
And so today was the day whereby I went back to the pack that has haunted my life.
In the early hours of today, or rather since the panic attack incident a few days ago, Laura and Peter, Diana included, had taken it upon themselves to motivate me at every opportunity they got, whilst feeding me tons of liquid for my memory recovery, and therapy books for my fears.
And that’s why now, as I stood before my mirror, I believed that I could do anything-not because of the therapy or the books, but because of my new family. They had been true to their words. They were going through hell with me.
Diana for one, left therapeutic short notes of inspiration at my doorstep every morning. She kept the tiny paper glued to the ground with magic of course. That beautiful one. I was sure she would write a book one day.
I took a deep breath in, before going ahead with making a few preparations for the party. Diana would soon come knocking the hell out of my door.
She has been so enthusiastic since Laura had permitted her to go with us-she had adamantly refused to stay with her friends at the community for this year’s celebration. But of course there was a condition-that she stayed glued to my side all through the two-days meeting. I was still deciding if it was a good proposition or a bad one.
As I prepared for the party, my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. I looked at the exquisite mask Laura had gifted me, a delicate work of art in lace and crystals, plus a soothing effect of magic.
It was more than just an accessory; it was a protective shield, hiding my identity and the memories of that harrowing night. It wasn’t a mask-themed party, but masks were allowed. The first I had seen, or rather heard.
My makeup was a form of artistry, a way to ensure that the rest of me appeared flawless, even if my heart quivered with apprehension.
I painted my lips a soft, rose-colored hue and applied a subtle smoky eye. The mask might hide my face, but I wanted every other aspect of me to be impeccable. Thanks to Noami for her tutelage in makeup application. It’s never been so useful than now.
My eyes fell on the wig I had chosen from the stylist’s store, a long, wavy blond mane that was a stark contrast to my natural dark hair.
It wasn’t just a disguise; it was my armor, my safeguard from judgment and memories I wasn’t quite ready to confront. I adjusted the wig, making sure it sat perfectly atop my head. My reflection in the mirror offered a reassuring nod. I was ready.
Hopefully, I was.
I couldn’t help but wonder again if anyone within the pack missed me, or if they even recognized the extent of the pain they had inflicted. The scars on my body had healed, but the emotional ones still lingered, a haunting reminder of that fateful night.
I knew that the party would be my opportunity to see them all again. I thought of Adam and his brothers, who were once my tormentors. A surge of anger and resentment welled up within me, but I quickly suppressed it. This was not a night for revenge; it was a night for answers. Revenge was still early.
My thoughts then turned to Naomi, the one person I had cared about deeply. I had watched Naomi grow from a distance at one time, her innocence gradually replaced by a quiet strength.
I wondered if Naomi thought about me now, about the girl who had vanished from her life. A sense of guilt tugged at me, and I hoped that, in some way, I could make amends: not that any of these had been my fault.
I felt a mixture of fear and anticipation as I contemplated my mother, the one person who had tried to protect me in that dark time. My heart ached with the need to know if she was okay, if she had found happiness and healing in my absence.
The clock on the wall continued to tick loudly, a constant reminder that time was slipping away. The party drew nearer, and with it, the promise of confronting my past and seeking answers.
I felt the heavy weight of my mission, but I refused to back down. I had come so far, and I had fought too hard, had even fought death; I can’t let fear hold me back.
My final glimpse in the mirror revealed a transformed woman. I was no longer the vulnerable girl they had beaten mercilessly; I was a survivor.
As I turned away to pick my overnight pack, and check if all my necessities were complete and present, I felt a chilly air wrap around me and stay.
I shivered, and breathed out hastily, flinging my hands side to side as if to dispel cold. I couldn’t catch the cold now. Quickly, noticing that my window was open, I strolled to it and shut it, breathing deeply when I found the resemblance to warmth.
Should I pack a sweater? I thought, walking to my dresser. After a few guesses, I picked a cashmere sweater and added it to the bag, refusing to dwell on the fact that I would be wearing the mask till I left the pack. I wasn’t ready to face anyone.
The thought has always been there, but I refused to dwell on it. Laura had assured me that no one would try to de-mask me, no werewolf would try to approach me with ill intentions-the mask wouldn’t let that happen.
I had believed her, even though she hadn’t given me any more explanations. More magic?