Helen's POV— 8 years old
When I was younger—like, six—I used to think my daddy was a hero. He used to carry me on his shoulders and tell me I was his princess. He'd bring me sweet apples from the market and say, "Only the best for my girl."
Back then, Mommy used to laugh a lot. Play and bake a lot. We were a perfect family. Our house felt warm, like cocoa on cold days. I always looked forward to the weekends because we got to spend time together like a sweet family.
But things changed. I don't know when. Maybe when he lost his job at the lumber yard. Or when he started staying out late and coming home smelling like old drinks.
At first, the yelling started. He would yell at her and my mommy would ask me to play the game called hide and seek. I would hide and after my dad sleeps, she will call for me to come out.
Then, Mommy cried a lot in the bathroom, with purple bruises on her lips and body. She always told me everything was okay, but I wasn't stupid. I heard things.
I knew something was wrong.
Now, whenever Daddy came home, my tummy would twist. My hands would get all sweaty and my legs would want to hide on their own. Mommy would tell me to go play or read, but I could always hear their voices—angry and loud—echoing through the house.
Today felt worse.
Mommy was slicing carrots in the kitchen. I was coloring a picture of a house with a big red roof and birds flying. There was another drawing lying on the table— it was a drawing of mommy, daddy, and me, playing under the bright sky with bright smiles.
Mommy was humming, but it didn't sound like a happy song. She kept peeking out the window, her shoulders all stiff.
Then the knife slipped, cutting into her finger.
She gasped and dropped it, sucking her finger, a stain of red on the side of her lips. "Ow!"
"Mommy?" I got up and ran to her side.
She smiled too fast. "Yes, Helen?"
"You cut yourself," I said, looking at the red on her finger. It looked like strawberry jam, but it made my chest feel weird.
She ran it under the tap. "It's nothing. Go sit down, baby."
She was scared. I could see it in her eyes.
I looked out the window and saw him—Daddy—walking fast toward the house. His shoulders were hunched, and he wasn't carrying a fruit bag like he sometimes did.
My stomach dropped.
"Helen, baby. You know our usual game. Hide and seek?" She asked me, her eyes having a feigned glint.
I nodded because all I wanted to do was cry.
"Good, now be a good girl for me. Go to the closet," Mommy said quickly, grabbing my shoulders. "Now."
"But—"
"Don't talk. Just hide. Be quiet. Please. I will come for you, okay?"
I ran to the hallway closet and shut the door just a little, leaving a crack open. I pressed my hands over my ears—but not all the way. I still heard everything.
The door banged open.
"You think I wouldn't find out?" Daddy's voice boomed like thunder. I jolted in fear.
"Robert, please, not in front of Helen—" Mommy's voice trembled.
"Who were you with?! Huh? You smiling at that butcher again? Or is it the Alpha's patrol boy now?"
"I didn't go anywhere today! I've been home, I swear!" My mommy cried.
"LIAR!"
A loud crash—maybe the fruit bowl or a plate. Mommy gasped. "Robert, please calm down!"
I shook inside the closet. My knees knocked together, and I bit my hand so I wouldn't scream.
"You think I'm stupid? That you can prance around like some Luna you are not and not get noticed?! Everyone sees you!"
"Nobody sees me, Robert! I'm your mate, remember?! I love you—"
"Shut up!"
Another crash.
Then I heard something worse. A smack.
Then another.
Mommy cried out. I couldn't take it anymore.
I pushed the door open and ran.
"Daddy, stop!" I screamed. "Stop hurting Mommy!"
He turned.
His face was red. His eyes… they weren't Daddy's eyes. They were wild, like a rogue's. Scary and full of something dark. His chest heaved up and down like he couldn't breathe.
Then, for a second, his eyes softened when he looked at me.
Mommy tried to stand between us. "Helen, go back to the closet—"
But I didn't move.
His arm shot out—faster than I could blink—and shoved Mommy hard.
She stumbled. Her back hit the counter. Her head slammed into the corner of it with a loud crack.
Then she collapsed.
Blood started pooling on the white tiles. Red and thick.
"Mommy?" I whispered, running to her. "Mommy, wake up…"
She didn't move.
Daddy stared at his hands. His lips trembled.
"I… I didn't mean to," he said.
I looked up at him, crying hard now. "Daddy, you hurt mommy?"
I turned to mommy. "Mommy, please. Open your eyes. You said you would come for me, remember? Mommy, please!" My sobs echoed through the living room.
I looked at my father, tears staining my reddened cheeks. "Daddy,—"
He took a step back, then looked at the knife on the floor. The same one Mommy had used to cut the carrots.
"No," I whispered. "Don't—"
But he picked it up.
He looked at me—one last time—with sad, broken eyes. Like he knew he had become something else. Like he couldn't take it anymore.
Then he stabbed the knife into his own belly.
I screamed.
"NO! DADDY!!!"
He fell right next to Mommy. Two still bodies. So much red.
Everything after that was blurry.
I remember loud bangs on the door. The Alpha's voice yelling. Mr. Keon from next door shouting, "They're in here! It's bad—call the medic!"
Strong arms picked me up, but I didn't want to be held. I wanted Mommy to get up. I wanted Daddy to go back to the way he was when he carried me on his shoulders.
But they didn't move.
They never would again.
⸻
Later that day, I was wrapped in a blanket that smelled like strangers. I sat on the porch with a medic beside me. I didn't cry anymore. I just stared at the sky and wished I could fly away.
Then I saw her. A woman I didn't know but she looked like my mother. Is my mommy alive?
I jumped down from where I was sitting and rushed to hug her. "Mommy, you are alive!"
She didn't hug me back and there was something about her that didn't feel like my mommy. I raised my gaze up to look at her face.
Her face was tight and cold. Her hair pulled back so tight it looked like it hurt.
She didn't run to hug me. She didn't kneel down to ask if I was okay. She held her hands to herself. "I am not your mommy." Her voice was cold, so cold I pulled away from her.
She looked at the Alpha and said, "I'll take the girl. She has no one else."
That was it.
No hug. No "I'm sorry."
Just like that, I was taken away.
⸻
"Stop crying," Laura snapped that night when I couldn't sleep and tears kept rolling down my cheeks. Her room smelled like perfume and wood polish. Nothing like Mommy.
"You'll do as I say now, Helen. No more whining. You're not a baby."
"I want… my mommy… and my daddy." I said amidst hiccups.
She let out a loud, harsh hiss. "Your mommy is not going to come back and your daddy… is going to keep rotting in hell because that is where he belongs!"
I tried to cover my face with the blanket, my sobs turning into hiccups. She didn't tuck me in. She didn't sit with me. She just left the room with the light off.
I was in a stranger's house. Everything was cold. Quiet. Wrong.
I held my stuffed wolf—Crispy—to my chest and closed my eyes tight.
In my dreams, Mommy was still alive. Daddy brought me apples. I laughed in the backyard, barefoot and safe.
But morning always came. I understood the reality. I was no longer going to see my parents laugh and jest again and definitely, my life has changed forever too…