When we got home, I found my room had been completely stripped right down to bare plaster and floorboards. There was no glass in the windows, and a cold draught blew relentlessly through the empty space as my mother threw me on the floor. She then locked a heavy metal collar around my neck, and I saw that it was connected to a chain that proved just long enough to allow me to walk back and forth from one side of the room to the other. A hole had been cut in the floor, and there were two bowls, placed just out of reach of the chain's length.
"Don't get used to it," my mother told me as she placed the key to my collar in her pocket. "I intend to see you across the Channel as soon as we've dealt with the rest of your 'friends'. And I'll personally make sure you never see the light of day again once you've reached your final destination."73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡmPCsGmqimm
"I've never met them before in my life," I protested.
My mother sniffed. It seemed to be a favourite expression of her feelings of late. "You cannot fool me," she said. "You seemed overly concerned over their wellbeing."
"Your 'friends' killed most of them," I said angrily. "Of course I'm going to be worried."
"If you don't know them, then why did they come to the hospital to try and break you out?" my mother demanded.
"Probably to get me and other abuse victims out of yours and other people's clutches," I said.
My mother sniffed again. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said. "And in any case, I still think you're lying about not knowing them. Until you're prepared to tell the truth, you won't be getting any food or water. I'll be asking you the same question every hour, and if you pass out from lack of food, or you become dehydrated from lack of water, just remember that you brought it on yourself, and you can easily rectfiy it by telling me the truth. Don't get used to sleeping; I'll be here every hour, and if you end up being sleep-deprived, it will be your own fault for lying to me." So saying, she turned and left, slamming the door shut behind her, and I shivered as I sat, curling my legs under me. I already knew it was no use to shift; she'd likely use some sort of medicine to turn me docile and thus hamper my abilities.
But I refused to let her convince me my current situation was my fault; I was innocent. I'd made the one error of being born a werewolf, that was all, but it wasn't even an error. My parents' treatment of me was all on them; they were part of a minority which hated and feared the supernatural, even though supernatural and magical beings were a daily part of life, and well accepted amongst humans. I wasn't to blame for who I was, no matter the torment my mother put me through to try and convince me otherwise.
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True to her word, my mother visited me every hour and demanded to know what my "friends" were up to. I told her they weren't my friends, and that I'd never met them until the day of the bank raid. She shook her head and left, and I was resigned to another hour of staring at the wall and watching the square of sunlight move slowly across the floor. I used small amounts of magic to keep the worst of the hunger and thirst at bay, but as the daylight began to fade, I knew I wouldn't be able to keep this up forever. Not even the most powerful of werewolves could go long without food or water.
Night fell, and my mother visited me like clockwork. She always asked the same questions, and though I gave her the same answers, I felt my resistance being chipped away. My lips were chapped, my throat parched, and the hunger pangs were getting harder to suppress, not without using the full scope of my powers. But just when I thought I'd have to say something different to finally get a bite of food and a sip of water, my mother finally relented in the early hours of dawn and unchained me long enough to let me have something to eat and drink. She kept a stern watch on me the whole time, and when I was done, she took the bowls away and chained me again. Mercifully, she finally allowed me to also snatch a few hours of sleep, and when full sunlight filled my room again, she brought a washbasin and soap so I could clean myself. I knew it wasn't kindess making her do so, and when she left, I knew she'd begin drilling me again.
But she left me alone all day - except to bring me lunch and dinner - and I knew she was trying a new tactic. But I was used to her and father giving the silent treatment, so I refused to be baited, and got a relatively peaceful night's sleep.
The next day, however, she was back to grilling me every hour, only letting up at midnight to give me a late dinner before letting me sleep for a few hours. At dawn, she brought me breakfast, and a washbasin, before leaving me alone for the rest of the day. At midnight, she was back to grilling me every hour, and I realised with a sick feeling that she was going to randomly change tactics on me in hopes of getting me to crack.
But I refused to do so. 73Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRIlHgGluX0
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An unknown amount of time passed before my mother entered one morning with the washbasin, and as I washed myself down, she told me that her friends were here to take me across the Channel. "I'm very disappointed in you," she said as I dried myself off and dressed, surprisingly allowed the chance to put my clothes on under my own steam for a change. "I cannot believe why you would continue to lie to me, but my friends will soon get the truth out of you. And they will not be kind."
I sighed as I did up the laces of my shoes. "Give it a rest," I said.
My mother sniffed. "You'll have that attitude straightened out soon enough," she told me. "Now go downstairs - they're waiting, and they do not like tardiness."
I sighed again, but did as I was told. Even so, I felt sick again when I saw the two nuns waiting in the living room. Their eyes were cold and inimical, and I felt as if they could see right through to the depths of my soul. In a way, they did; their energy was that of long-standing practitioners of darker arts best left unmentioned, and I wanted to throw up.
"No," the blonde nun said, and just like that, my nausea was gone. "You are not sick," she told me. "You are grateful to be given a chance to redeem yourself."
To my horror, gratitude filled me, and the darker-haired nun sighed. "You are not horrified," she said.
The horror vanished, but even as the forced emotions took hold, I felt one, tiny pocket of resistence take hold. Not even the nuns' best efforts could dislodge it, but I made sure not to let them know I wasn't entirely their puppet. They'd likely get it out of me eventually, but as they took me by the arms and marched me outside to their waiting car, I vowed to fight them as long as I could. I was still a werewolf, and I had the claw and fang to prove it.
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