Avenging His Luna

2 Confined

Joshua



The hard cement of my cell felt especially cold. How many years had I been locked away? I used to wonder how inmates in prison movies made tally marks on the cinderblock walls to keep some sanity and sense of time. As many times as I tried, my walls would still be empty and my nails short. Maybe they had something to use, some type of stone or something. Not me, my cell was empty.

I thought once my father had calmed down, I would be released and maybe whipped in the square before he allowed me to rejoin the pack. I knew fighting him publicly over my sister's abuse was a risk, but I couldn't stand by and let him kill her. She was innocent. He wasn't even mad about the fight, just that I won. It became clear over time that he had no intention of me ever leaving this damp cell. He could have at least given me a bed or a mattress, but I slept on the floor. At least the chains were gone. I looked down at my wrist, revealing the dark scars from when I first entered this hell hole. I would lie flat on my stomach, resting the shackles on the floor and trying to use my fingers to lift my wrist off the burning silver in order to find moments of relief. I would be there for hours until my body attempted to sleep and the contact with the silver would again burn into my skin again. My father acted like a damn hero when he had the chains removed. I was so weak and tired at that point I couldn’t put up a fight. It was a shame, he needed to die. I sat up and stretched my back before bringing both legs in front of me and starting my daily stretches. At least, I think it was daily. The absence of light made me wonder what my sleeping habits even looked like. I reached forward, grabbing my feet with my hands and pulling, resting my head on my knees and looking over towards the outer wall of my cell. I couldn’t help but smile. It had been so long since feeling the magnetic pull towards that wall. I thought for awhile she had forgotten me, but then she came again last night. I wouldn’t blame her for not coming. Who wants to come and sit outside a prison to feel some proximity to a mate they’ve never met? What did her life look like if she came at night to sit in the cold? I treated each time as if it were my last, because I knew that was a great possibility. If I could will her comfort and love through the thick layers of cement, I would, and if I ever get out of this place, she will never have to wander at night seeking me out. I would never leave her side.

My cell door opened and the young warrior, Zeek, they called him, brought in a tray that once held my breakfast.

“Sorry, got hungry gaming. There’s still a bit there for ya though.” He laughed before exiting again, locking the door, and heading back to the room at the end of the corridor.

I swear the most idiotic pack members were assigned this duty. They spent their entire shifts locked in that room playing video games. I guess when the majority of your prisoners are elderly women waiting for their turn to die or members who have stolen food to feed their families, you don’t really need strong protection. I used to think my father cared about the pack. That he had been unfortunate to have so many lazy pack members to look after. I now realize that he drove members to starvation through his sick f*****g taxes and had been killing off old widows he didn’t feel like supporting once their mates died. As soon as they were disposed of, he would make a huge display of turning their house over to some young warrior who was kissing his ass that week. Maybe finding my mate will be the second thing I’ll do if I ever get out. Maybe first, I’ll kill my father. Yeah, I couldn't ensure her safety until I had.

I shifted over to the tray and saw that they were kind enough to leave a slice of toast. I rolled my eyes as I lifted it and took a few bites. Cold toast wasn’t exactly a breakfast, nor was it enough to sustain a wolf. Flame has been so f*****g weak he has barely made an appearance these days. The only times I felt him were when our mate would show up. He would gain strength by her nearness. I shoved the rest of the hard chunk of bread in my mouth and shifted myself back to the corner where I always stretched. Working out wasn’t really an option as I had lost so much muscle mass already. I could count most of my ribs and the last time I attempted burpees, I was out of breath after five.

I spent the day as usual alternating between stretching, sleeping, and eating what little they brought. Sometimes the other inmates would hold conversations and I would listen, but never join in. What was the point? I was here eternally, it seemed, and none of them would last longer than a week. A little old woman had been brought in the day before and everyone was excited to hear some new stories. Apparently, her husband had just passed away. He was a tailor and she worked with him out of their house. She told stories about all the wedding dresses she had made and gowns for newborn pups. I slid over to the cell door so I could hear better.

“I remember feeling so honored when our Luna was finally pregnant, and she came to me for the altering of a few gowns. She needed room for her growing belly. Oh, she was just so beautiful.” Her frail voice cooed. “She was so pleased with our work that, towards the end of her third trimester, she even asked me to make a gown for the little babe for his introduction to the pack. He was such a big pup, she had to bring the gown back after he was born so we could add some material.” She chuckled.

Everyone was enjoying her story and I smiled, remembering seeing pictures of myself in the gown. It was white with little blue ribbons on the sleeves and bottoms. I always thought it strange to put males in gowns for introductions, but I guess I couldn’t really advocate for myself yet.

“He looked so adorable wearing it that day. Luna even stopped in front of our house for me to see him. It meant so much to us. We kept making clothes for him as he grew. Luna had to bring one outfit back over and over again because it was his favorite, and he was constantly getting holes in the knees.” She chuckled. I could hear the happiness in her voice.

I remembered the outfit. They were blue overalls with pockets I could carry all of my little treasures in. I hung them on my headboard so I could put them on first thing when I woke up.

“We had fixed them almost ten times when I decided to surprise the little guy and put…”

“Dinosaur patches on the knees.” I interrupted quietly. Why did I do that?

A few shocked voices gasped. Maybe they all thought I was mute.

“Yes.” She said, clearly pleased.

“I loved that,” I said to her. She was just another victim like me, and it made me happy to bring her even a moment's joy, knowing she would soon be disposed of by my father.

Silence fell over the cells, and I enjoyed living in the happy memory which now held more depth to me.

“Are you saying you’re Joshua Black?” A male voice asked. I could feel the collective anticipation. I had no idea what my father had told the pack. How many fates could there be though? Prison, dead, or ran away, right?

I sat there shaking my head and breathing in deeply. “Yeah, I am.” I sighed. At least I used to be, right?

“What the hell are you doing in prison?” He asked. "I thought you ran away."

“Same as all of you. I was an annoyance to my father,” I responded.

I stood and walked over to the far corner of the cell again. They asked a few more questions, but I didn’t feel like answering. It wasn’t any of their business anyway. I leaned against the wall and shut my eyes. Maybe another nap would kill the rest of the day.