My life hasn’t been the best, I’ll be honest. There were certain moments when I truly hated myself with every fiber of my being and I wanted nothing more than to kill myself just so I could find a false sense of serenity.
When he first started to hit me when I was about ten. I was too young to understand what I did wrong and I was forced to grow up.
I hated my life then.
I didn’t talk from age ten to eleven.
I hated myself.
When he first raped me when I was twelve and continued for nine more years.
I was contemplating death. I even cut myself for seven years.
When Rex and Mallory raped me when I didn’t do anything to lure them to me or was rude for them to want to do that act.
I cried myself to sleep for many nights. I continued to cut.
When Benlyam took me from that Hell hole- a sliver of hope sparked. It was torn down when he spoke to me, and when he slept with those girls, and when he slapped me.
I attempted suicide.
But, I realized something. All of that was nothing. It meant nothing. It seemed like such a silly, minuscule period of time. It felt like my reactions were so extra and unnecessary. That seemed like heaven compared to what I was witnessing.
I’ve seen Benlyam pissed many times. I’ve made him pissy plenty. Like when he tore him off of me, or when he walked in on Rex touching me, or when Mallory raped me. When I said that he shouldn’t punish his entire pack, or when I told him that I should go back to his pack when we first talked.
I’ve seen Benylam almost break on a few occasions. When I had episodes and didn’t even think of him, I took it out on Benlyam. When I smacked him in the middle of the night for touching my stomach. When I told him I was thinking of leaving. When Selene showed me him by my bedside when I was in the hospital.
I’ve never seen him cry. I saw his eyes get glassy when he saw our kids on the ultrasound. I know he excused himself from the room a few times so he could calm himself down.
All of that couldn’t compare to right now. Not by a fraction.
Seeing the man I love, the father of my children, my mate, screaming at doctors while he held our bloody, tiny baby in his hands. It was something I never thought I would see. I hated it, it made my life seem like the best thing that could ever happen. Made my life seem like a blessing.
I felt so defeated. I felt like the world had a constant target on my forehead. And for what? I felt so hazy. My head was spinning. I couldn’t process anything.
I couldn’t process the possibility of our children dying. It was beyond unjust and brutal.
I wasn’t crying but it felt like there was a mesh covering over my eyes because of how blurry everything was. Dazy. My head was pounding and my breathing was shallow.
Blood covered my legs, drenching the hospital bed under me. My blood covered Benlyam’s shirt, arms, and hands. He was screaming for the doctors to ‘save it’ but they were scrambling to make sure things were okay, to make sure I was okay. But I didn’t care about myself, my pups were more important.
He was threatening them with everything in the book, but he knew it was a lost cause.
A miscarriage is a miscarriage. You could get on your knees and pray to every God that was ever thought of, you could swear your allegiance to their religion and promise to never act against your word. But it doesn’t matter.
Some Gods fed on misfortune, they thrive on it. Praying wouldn’t do a thing. Believe me, I was witnessing the true horror of life.
You couldn’t hook it up to a breathing machine or put it in an incubator- as Benlyam was demanding- because it wouldn’t do anything.
I didn’t want to believe that. But not everything works out and it’s something I’ll never understand.
Life isn’t beautiful. It’s a disgusting, hideous slab of terrors and downfalls that everyone paints over, and then claims it’s a priceless artifact. It isn’t beautiful.
The doctors tried to take my baby from Benlyam’s hand and a growl shook the room. The doctors were visibly shaking from how lethal he was.
It was so tiny. It fit in his hand. It was no more than seven inches long, it couldn’t be more than a pound from how itty bitty it was. So red. My heart pulled in pain as I took a sharp breath.
“Alpha, there’s no-”
“You will fucking save it or I will fucking hang you with your goddamn stethoscope!” Benlyam yelled in Reseda’s face as he cradled our baby. He was shaking from rage.
“Alp-” Benlyam cut her off again.
“Do you fucking see this? This is my fucking child, you fucking bitch!” Benlyam shouted at her. His eyes were so glassy, he was holding himself back.
“Bee…” I croaked. It was the first time I said anything during this whole nightmare. It was so quiet but it felt like a fire alarm was continuously ringing in my head, it didn’t take a water break. It couldn’t.
He looked over to me, and I saw it. He was broken. It showed as clear as the blood on his hands. His lips morphed into a pained frown. My brain couldn’t form words to say as I looked down at our deprived fetus.
I felt my body contract in agony.
“Flower…” he whispered out but I didn’t hear him. Our baby…
“Luna, Alpha…”
I didn’t want to listen. I wanted to run away to a place that was far from this hospital. Far from this hellish room. I met the Devil, he couldn’t be this cruel. He called Selene cruel.
“I’m so sorry…”
I couldn’t keep my eyes open as they took our baby from Benlyam’s hands. He lost everything the moment I opened my mouth. He was broken.
“There’s nothing we can do…”
My face contoured in a crying expression as my heart dropped. I bit my lip to keep quiet. I needed to listen but I didn’t want to. I was broken.
“I’m sorry for your loss…”
I was thrown underwater. A dark, murky, bottomless pit. I wanted feelings to go away, I wanted to willingly fall into my black void. I would jump headfirst. I wanted to be numb. And now that I wanted it, I couldn’t have it. I had to feel every atom of agony.
I felt everything and I hated it. As they cleaned me, as they treated me, and as they dressed me. I felt Benlyam’s emotions and I hated it, he was so beaten but somewhere in him he predicted this outcome, and it confused me.
How. In. The. Fucking world. Could. He. Foresee. This horror?
Even after they took our dead child, cleaned us, and sat us down to discuss what just happened, my hands couldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t stop. They stayed on my stomach.
Benlyam tried to grab my hand and I growled at him. At my mate. It hurt.
I never got to hold it. Benlyam got to, and I didn’t. The doctors took it away from me, they didn’t want me to go through the pain. I never got to hold it, and apologize, and tell it how much I loved it, and I would always love it no matter what.
I would never forgive them for that.