…
Years ago, after Sarah visited Wolfsteeth with Ocilia
It was a hot and dry night, with everyone using skills or concoctions to sleep and hoping that they didn't wake up, with them sweating through their bedding.
However, one girl felt freezingly cold as she lay curled on her side, her back aching from the punishment. The fresh scars burned, a sharp reminder of her mistake.
"I hate this—" Sarah whispered, her voice barely audible as it trembled with frustration, "—I just want to be free."
If it were only the physical pain, she could've endured it, even though it was the worst pain she ever experienced. But the humiliation gnawed at her mind, relentless and intense, eroding her sense of self.
"I don't—" She started shivering when memories emerged from earlier—her Mother's words, the punishment, the shame, "—want this."
Her Mother's words had been merciless, each one a blow that weighed down on her. Guilt and shame pressed in, suffocating her until her stomach twisted with nausea, making her retch. She couldn't take it anymore.
"Help—" she whispered, curling tighter, arms wrapped around her knees. Tears slipped down her cheeks. But no one would hear her.
Sarah cried for help, whispering, hoping somebody would hear her, but it was impossible—she was isolated—another part of the severe punishment she experienced.
"I can't—" she whimpered. She couldn't take this anymore. The punishment had broken her—body, mind, and soul.
"Please—" she begged, her voice weak. She just wanted it all to stop.
Minutes flew by, but the pain and shame didn't reside. Only her Mother's voice echoed in her mind repeatedly.
"I deserve this—" But doubt lingered, creeping in. Was this really too much? Could she have seen the consequences coming? No matter how much she questioned, the bitter truth always returned, "—I put the family at risk."
Her arms tightened around herself, squeezing to feel another kind of pain, having a sense of control, "Why... why am I like this?" Her voice wavered, choked by tears, the thoughts too jumbled to make sense of anything.
However, deep down, a part of her wanted to rebel—to do what she wanted without consequence, without thinking about anything but the moment. The thought felt selfish, and she hated herself for even thinking it.
"I need to change—" she whispered, clutching herself tighter. But a more profound longing emerged under the need to change, "—I just want to see my family."
The thought that the punishment might stretch on for weeks, even months, became unbearable—the idea of not seeing her family, of enduring this mind-breaking agony day after day, wrapped around her like a suffocating blanket, stealing the air from her lungs.
Tears flowed out as the helplessness settled in, heavy and suffocating, "Damn it!" she growled, anger bubbling beneath her misery.
She didn't only feel powerless but was. Her grip on her arms tightened, sensing something wet. The faint, sharp, metallic scent of wet iron lingered in the air.
Overwhelmed by desperation, ideas emerged that she never would have considered, "What if..."
"What if pigs could fly? Would we call them bird bacon?"
Her ears twitched at the familiar voice. Slowly, she sat up, blinking through the blur of tears, and there he was—Alexander, stepping through a shadowy mist with his usual cocky grin. Relief flooded her chest.
"Yo—" he greeted her, nonchalant as ever, "—I see you went through some harsh stuff." His words were casual, as if her punishment was just a minor inconvenience, a routine errand.
But this was Alexander. Her brother never knew what to say, never able to read the room, but he was himself—in that moment, it was all she needed.
Behind him, Francesca followed, her brow damp with sweat. With a nod from Alexander, she retreated to the corner and quietly sat to meditate.
"Alex—" Sarah's voice was weak, choked by her tears. But seeing him—seeing her brother here—brought a flood of relief so strong that the tears came harder—no longer from pain but from the overwhelming happiness of his presence.
"Oh my—" he said, his grin widening, "—Didn't know I had that kind of effect on girls." His tone was light, a deliberate attempt to cut through the tension.
Even as he joked, he moved closer, doing what she needed most. He crawled onto the bed beside her, wrapping her in a warm, comforting embrace.
"It's okay—" his voice gentle, "—Let me help with those injuries first—" he asked, pulling out a small vial from his pocket.
As he shifted, ready to pull away, a wave of panic surged through her, "No!—" she gasped, her arms tightening around him, desperate to keep him close, "—please, don't leave me! Stay..." Her voice cracked in distress.
She couldn't be alone—not now. "Stay—" she whispered, pulling him closer, her voice small and trembling with fear and exhaustion, "—please."
Alexander didn't try to pull away again. He stayed, his small hand gently stroking her hair, "Everything will be fine—" his soft voice filled the silence, "—just rest—" He pressed his hand lightly to her face, guiding her to close her eyes, "—I'm not going anywhere. I promise."
Her breathing began to calm, the panic subsiding. Alexander's familiar, fruity scent wrapped around her, comforting and warm, pulling her back from the verge of insanity. She clung to the feeling, letting it soothe the frantic beating of her heart.
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Alexander caressed her gently, his touch light and careful, avoiding her wounds. His tail gently curled around hers, a familiar contact, a comforting reassurance.
With the last bit of clarity she had left, Sarah wanted to tell him to leave before he got into trouble. But the words refused to come. The tightness in her chest only grew, and soon, the tears were flowing again, her body shaking with quiet, uncontrollable sobs.
'I'm selfish. I'm so sorry—' The thought flickered briefly in Sarah's mind, but the need for comfort, for someone to hold onto, was stronger. Hesitantly, she pulled him closer to her, smelling his hair, seeking the warmth and reassurance he offered.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, neither speaking. Sarah let herself sink deeper into the warmth of his presence, the steady rhythm of his breathing and the soft thrum of his heartbeat lulling her into a fragile sense of calm, like a warm blanket she wished for in her darkest hour, soothing the anxiety and desperation she felt moments ago.
...
Weeks Later, The Last Day of Her Punishment
Sarah sat alone in her quiet room, her body still aching from the punishment she received over the weeks, but today, it was different.
There were no burning strikes from the energy-loaded rods that felt like searing irons and no sharp pain crawling under her skin, making her suffer the aftereffects. No words meant to break her down, to make her feel small. Today, it was just a warning.
"It's over—" she whispered, her voice a strange mix of relief and unease—she survived.
It was the last day of her Outer Circle, but something wasn't right. It wasn't the sting of her scars or the exhaustion weighing her down. It was deeper than that—something missing. But she couldn't figure out what.
"Alex—" she muttered, the name slipping out before she could stop it.
She had expected him to come, just like he always did, sneaking into her room with that cocky grin and Francesca trailing behind him—always followed by a joke when he appeared, making it a ritual she could look forward to, even though she hated it.
Even if they didn't talk, his presence was enough, like balsam for her soul. But today, he hadn't appeared—no gentleness, awkward jokes, or quiet reassurances.
There was Nothing.
Sarah let herself fall onto the bed, her chest tightening, a strange sensation that made her breathing heavier, "Where is he?" she whispered into the emptiness, her voice unsure if he wouldn't appear at last after hearing her.
She reached out, grabbing the pillow he had used the night before, pulling it close to her face, and inhaling deeply. His scent—faint but still there—was like a small comfort, but it wasn't enough.
Her fingers tightened around the fabric as she clung to that fading scent. Everyone's scent was fruity before they underwent their first legacy, but his was different. It brought her a sense of security she couldn't explain.
"It's barely there—" she muttered, pressing the pillow harder against her face. Alexander always used that awful herbal paste that he mixed himself to wash his fur. It had a terrible, bitter smell, but for some reason, she missed it. She missed the smell of him—herby and awful as it was.
She missed his small, soft hands, which barely had any calluses because he hadn't trained much yet. He was gentle, sensitive, and awkward with his touch, but she liked that about him. She missed those hands—she wanted him to be here, holding her, offering her the comfort she needed.
She missed his snowy white fur, the way it caught the moonlight and made him seem so pure and genuine. She couldn't describe it properly, but when she thought about it, it felt like everything wrong in the world was somehow pushed away by the light that reflected off him.
She missed his fluffy tail, which would brush against hers when he awkwardly tried to comfort her. He wasn't good at it, but he tried, even when he was clearly uncomfortable. He would fidget and strain, his movements clumsy but caring. And somehow, that made her feel better.
She wanted to feel his breath against her when she hugged him too tightly, the way it would get all erratic because she was holding him too close. He'd start sweating and trying to pull away, but she would hold on tighter, and he would always let her.
"I miss him—" she whispered, the weight of her words finally sinking in. She didn't know what was happening, but there was an urge, something she couldn't explain. It wasn't just the company she missed—it was him.
The realization crept up on her, slowly but surely, making her chest ache in a way that felt almost unbearable. His absence was like another punishment, one she didn't know how to handle and didn't want to endure.
The longer she waited, the more his scent faded from the pillow and the tighter her chest felt. It was like losing something important—something she didn't even know she needed until it was gone.
"Alex—" She closed her eyes, trying to imagine him, remembering every little detail. His scent, warmth, and even how he could be so insensitive sometimes, "—where are you?"
But with every passing hour, hope drained away, leaving behind a hollow, gnawing feeling that she couldn't explain. When the sun finally rose, its soft light spilling through the window, she felt like she was being punished all over again, but in a different way.
The room felt colder and emptier. Everything felt wrong. Sarah didn't understand it—didn't want to understand it—but she was angry—he had left her alone and not come to see her.
"Why didn't he come?" she wondered, staring at the slivers of light on the floor breaking through the curtains.
Each time the thought resurfaced, it tightened around her chest, suffocating her rationality. But why was she so upset? It didn't make sense. She tried to shake off the feeling, but it stuck, growing heavier with each passing minute.
It felt like she was missing her Father, who would suddenly be gone for another year. It was similar but still distinct—a sufficient explanation for her—making her even angrier, his absence pressing down like a weight she couldn't shake off.
'He should've been here. He must!—' The thought stung more than any of the physical pain she had endured. She had counted on him—expected him to be there. But he wasn't.
She stood up, threw the pillow across the room, and watched it hit the wall with a dull thud. The impact did nothing to ease the frustration building inside her, if not make it even worse.
"Damn it, Alex!" she yelled, her voice shrill with a mix of confusion, longing, and anger. The strange sensation—the feeling of wanting—grew heavier in her chest, and she could no longer ignore it.
"I'll move to his mansion—" The decision came quickly, almost without thought. Sarah told herself it made sense because her other siblings had already moved in, so she would, too.
"—he better apologize!" She was hurt. A sensation she hated—a strange feeling twisting inside her—pulled her toward him.
Sarah quickly headed for the door. She couldn't stop thinking about how he had left her alone. It wasn't right. He had hurt her by staying away, and she couldn't let that go.
"I need to punish him—" she muttered, her hands clenching into fists. Her brother left her alone, like her Father—unacceptable.
She smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Doesn't he want to train with me?" Her smile widened at the thought. She could use this. She could make him regret it.
Why? He should learn not to hurt others. While she couldn't teach her Father, she could educate her brother. She must punish him and correct such behavior.
...
Author's afternote: I hope I captured Sarah's juvenile behavior without turning her into a yandere like Patricia. It was really hard to write about young girls without going up to one and asking, "Hey, do you have a boyfriend you love? What do you feel?"
Other than that, do you like the chapter? Like it to show it :) If not, comment something. I would be thankful for any feedback.