The Darkest Hour

They are savages. Theres no possible explanation for what I stand here witnessing with my eyes. From my perch at a window sill, I look out at the world below in absolute horror. Of course, I have wanted to escape here ever since the first time my only friend in this place said those words to me. She says it everyday. The half-dressed barbarians bellow jump from point to point ululating and howling up to the moon, it’s certainly befuddling. They are scantily dressed with markings all over their skin, they look to be performing some sort of ritual. My blood pressure spikes and the hair on my neck stands at attention. To think that I am held in captivity by these beasts. Never once has the desire to escape this hell hole been more prominent, but somehow, I find my self rooted to the spot. Unable to move, I'm curious to see what they have gathered about to do. A strange part of myself even feels a fondness to these people. When they come to me, they never come this way, they always look sane, perfectly normal. Excluding the fact that I've been hearing strange muffled noises for the past week I would never have guessed this. But now I see another side to them. I've never left my room, never had the opportunity to. But today I have been given a chance to escape by the grey eyed stranger. I don't trust the grey-eyed stranger; somehow, it felt like he was sending me into a trap. The small smirk and the glee dancing behind his eyes told me a different story from the one which left his lips. He gave me directions, told me what to do. Gave me a concise breakdown of how to escape this place. Of course, I threw all his advice out of the imaginary window in my head. I feel it in my gut to not trust him. I’ll find my own way out. I feel my hands begin to tremble at the thoughts of being recaptured here. Whatever it is that is happening it doesn’t happen often, and no one looks to be in their right mind to keep me safe if I'm discovered. I take a step back, and then another before turning back and padding gently down the long hallway. I walk fast on the balls of my feet, trying to make as little noise as possible for someone who is trying to escape fast. Theres no light in the hallway, the only light comes from the pyres lit outside. Theres no light in this gigantic mansion altogether. Should that worry me, I do not know, but this is the only chance I have to escape, I take it. I make a turn at the end of the hallway and my chest begins to tighten. My breathing quickens and the only thing I can think of is fleeing as the sound of the drums outside gets louder. I notice the air seams a bit humid, I could feel the wetness begin to form on my forehead, a little while later I feel a wet trail of sweat running down the side of my face. That’s strange, I haven’t even been walking for so long. I begin to take longer strides. Are the drums coming closer, it’s getting deafening. A shiver runs though my whole body and before I realize I begin to jog down the halls. The house is completely empty. Slowly the terror I was feeling turns into excitement. Theres a tingling in my spine, the blood in my veins; pounding, heartbeat; accelerating, my chest rumbles, laughter wanting to surface. I cannot comprehend what’s happening to me, but the more I run, the louder the drums get. I like the feeling of escaping. This is exactly how I felt the first time I fled a facility. This is different though, in a way. This time, I'm excited. Then I was angry. As I round another corner, my senses heighten, I become conscious of the carpet beneath my feet, the slight breeze in the hallway, I listen to the thousands of heartbeats outside. Before me, a window looking out into the woods. At full pace now, not caring about anything, I jump into the window, putting my hands in front of me. It shatters, letting me feel the cold night air on the outside of the building. The prickling sensations of skin that has been recently torn open resonated through my body. The pain is one I welcome. I land on the floor in a rather ungraceful manner. My knees buckled under me from the landing and I roll hitting the ground violently. By the time my body stops rolling, I feel the pain from my impact to the ground. Knees scrapped, head bleeding and ankle twisted at an awkward angle. The pain lasts for no more than ten seconds. I get up to my feet slowly, my head spinning. My adrenaline dissipated for a little while but I can feel it returning quickly. I continue my run. Have I really escaped. It cannot be this easy. I turn one last time to look at the building I leave behind and there in a room illuminated by yellow light, stands the grey eyed stranger. Watching. I can feel his smirk from here. Sparing no time to wonder why he decided to help me, I keep going. Into the woods. The sound of the drum fades behind me. Now the forest fills my ears. Crickets, birds, the screeching of bats, the rustling of trees and even a near by stream. Regardless my worry does not wane. It grows, why can I leave so easily? Did the grey-eyed man put in so much effort to help me escape? Did he clear a path for me? As I run, I can’t help feeling I'm going the wrong way; something calls me to return to where I came from. So many questions. I don't know where I'm going, but what I know is that I can’t trust these people. My vigour has fully returned now, the wind in my hair invigorates me now. The excitement brimming, I can practically feel my eyes dilating. Feet pumping, skin prickling, spine tingling. A dull ache forms. I know this pain; I can’t take it. I cannot bear it. I refuse to be reminded of my first captor. I slow down at a small clearing noticing it has a river. Looking around briefly to ensure I'm at a secure location. After I'm satisfied, I come to settle on my haunches just by the edge of the water. Listening to the seamless flow as I wait for the pain to wane, to prevent a part of myself that I cannot control from taking over. Looking into the water before, a strange sense of solidarity forms between the world around me and myself. A connection so to say. Reaching my hand out, I touch the water, the coolness of it relaxes me. I wish to stay here forever. It’s been too long since I did not know pain, too long since loneliness has not been my companion. Here I do not feel alone. However, there’s no time to rest, no time to relax. Heaving in a breath I stand to continue my journey. It is after standing that the I come to realize that the reason I do not feel alone is because I am not alone. Staring into the eyes of a massive brown wolf I stumble back. Shock apparent on my face. The mighty wolf stands at almost six feet. I haven’t seen many wolves -at least as far as I can remember- but this one surely has to be among the largest. The eyes however intrigue me the most, hazel pupils with a golden ring encircling it, they watch me in a way that stirs up a part of my memory that I no longer have access to. I begin to shuffle backward on the ground and my hand come in contact with something sticky. I do not look down, refusing to take my eyes off the wolf. Fear is a foreign emotion to me as of this moment. However, I remain cautious. I know this wolf. Is he a werewolf, a person from my past? Can he help me unlock that which my first captor locked away? The wolf knows me too... I think. It doesn’t attack, just watches me with wide eyes. As though he too is curious about me. Taking a step further it sniffs in my direction, wonder apparent. The leaves rustle beneath his mighty paws. Drawing closer slowly. We remain locked in a heated stare down for almost a whole minute when suddenly it leaps across the little stream, face contorted into absolute rage. My clam dissipates; terror seizes me. My mouth drops and a scream remains locked in my throat. Was I mistaken? I bring my hands up to shield myself from it. Eyes closed waiting for the impact. Nothing comes. Peeling my eyes open I notice the wolf is no longer where it once was. With a quick fleet of my eyes, I see its now behind me. It stays completely still, hackles raised staring off into the distance. Following his eye line, I look up into a cluster of trees. The canopy so thick that the area is nearly pitch black. Still, I do not fear. I wonder. The clearing has plunged into a state of complete silence. When did that happen. What happened to the crickets, the birds. Even the trees refuse to rustle, as though they too fear what lurks in the darkness. Out of the darkness comes a man. A man I know, a man that infuriates the wolf before me. He does not spare the wolf a glance. The last time I saw him, they called him the dark wolf, now though, he’s different. Something has changed His stoic face reveals nothing to me; his eyes remain trained on me. “I see you are a long way away from your room. did you not find it to your taste anymore?” He pauses and his eyes scan the area before locking eyes with the humongous wolf. The edge of his lips curls up into a snarl as he continues to speak “Might I add that you are a terrible judge of character for the company you keep.” He has never spoken to me, not once. He never said anything the day he met me in a prison cell, never said anything when he locked me in a room and never said anything all the other times he came to make sure I was still alive. So, I'm sure my face doesn’t hide my shock. He continues. “I know you’re new to all this but disregarding the words of an Alpha is considered a bit rude.” My blood runs cold. Alpha This is him? This is the man I'm fleeing from? Looking at him now, I remember the words that chilled me. The words that set doubt in my heart towards this tribe of fiends. The first words spoken to me by the person I trust most in this place, a humble maid. When I look at the dark wolf, looking as though he belongs in the darkness, watching the wolf in front of him as it snarls at him, barking so much it launches spittle from its mouth. He does not look terrified as I did merely moments ago; he leverages it with a look of condescension so strong it may be offered to no more than a piece of gum stuck under a shoe. I remember the words...