His scarred mate

Aria I breathe in the crisp morning air as I stare out the open window to the Forrest surrounding my cabin. I have been here, in the middle of nowhere for 3 years now. But I have never felt lonely. This is my safe place. He can’t find my here. I absentmindedly stroke the scar the stretches from my brow, down My cheek and ending at my chin. It healed well. It’s puffy and pink, but I am just so greatful that it was no longer that awful bulging purple mass it was at there beginning. That night haunts my dreams. The horror has faded over time. Not much, but enough that I don't scream with every gust of wind or noise I hear. My mind drifts as I recall that night. I was 16 when I first met him. He was handsome and charming. He made me feel so special. But after a few dates, he became strange. Possessive. He was so angry. Kept talking about smelling other men on me. I had guys in my classes, but its not like I hung out with them. I didn't understand his possession with scents. Finally, he hit me. He was so strong that I flew back and slammed into the wall behind me. As I slide down to ground, I could feel the warm blood dripping down my forehead into my eye, making it burn. He was so angry, and he growled. He was like an animal. He just ran out the door. I woke up in the hospital surrounded by nurses, doctors and police. I told them what happened and they helped me put a restraining order out on him. I thought that would be it. But I kept seeing him. Everywhere I went. He was watching me. I could feel his cold gaze on my flesh at every turn. For 2 years, I was in constant fear. I stopped going out. I stopped talking to friends. I only managed to graduate by finishing my study online. My world constricted into my home and parents. I tried to be strong. I went to my graduation. Well, I tried. On the way there, he found me. He was so angry. He had a knife. I remember him dragging me into his car. Hiding me in a cold, dark room. He was yelling at me. Ranting and raving like a crazy person. I begged him to let me go, but that only made him angrier. I tried to run. To get away. And that's when the thrust the knife into me. He stabbed me and swung the knife. I remember the pain as he slashed apart my flesh. As he pierced my stomach. The chill of the metal tearing my insides. The burning pain was so intense. I felt hot at first, but as the blood flowed out of my body, I got colder and colder. I was in the hospital for 3 months. A coma. The Doctor’s said it was a combination of my wounds along with my mind collapsing under the strain and trying to repair. My muscles had softened from being in bed for so long. The physical therapy was intense. I screamed in fear during my first session. I started to fall, and as he caught me, all these sensations came up and I just.... I couldn't. The poor guy. He was so understanding though. He helped me move forward. Helped me heal my broken body and mind. He was the one that suggested I try writing. I poured out my fears and dreams. Creating stories of people stronger than me. Braver than me. He showed his sister my work. She actually convinced me to publish. I was doing nothing but writing, and therapy. So I had tonnes of material. I never thought anyone would read it, let alone like it. But I made a tidy sum. Enough to support myself. I was 19 and a published author. Although, it was under a pseudonym. He was still out there. I didn’t want him to have another way to find me. I felt free when I wrote. But everything came crashing down soon after. My parents went away to celebrate their wedding anniversary. When I received the call about the accident, the last piece of me shattered. I couldn’t bas the. I couldn’t think. My world collapsed around me. I barely remember the weeks that followed. Going to the hospital to identify the bodies. Planning the funeral. I was numb. I couldn’t breathe. It was like I was in a fog. While wondering around our home, I realised that I had nothing left. The house haunted me. Every room remained me of them. I packed my things and the mementos I wanted to keep. And then sold everything. With the money from the estate sale and the insurance, along with my savings. I purchased a large plot of land. It was right next to a wilderness preserve. Nobody for miles, except for a few park rangers. The closest neighbour’s were a group that I guess was some kind of commune. They kept to themselves, so I wasn’t worried. It was close enough to a town that I could get groceries and provisions delivered, but far enough away that I wouldn’t bothered. When I opened the door for the first time, I was hit with a feeling of peace that I hadn’t had for a very long time. Weeks turned to months, months turned to years. This place has been my home for 3 years now. I hear a noise that shakes me out of my memories. I grab the shotgun and head out. I sometimes see wolves in the forest, but the usually keep away. I don’t w to hurt them, but better safe then sorry. I feel like an i***t going out like this. But I just feel like I need to go to the noise. Like this voice in my head is telling me that I have to go. As I head into the woods, the silence is startling. The birds are silent. All the small animals that live in the trees are gone. A clearing opens up before me and I see 2 wolves fighting. This beautiful silver and black one and this dusty brown one who gives me the chills. I don’t know why 1 wolf frightens me while the other fills me with awe. But the feelings are there and they are real. It lunges at the silver wolf. Its teeth tearing into its side. I shoot near the brown wolf. Hoping to startle it and make it leave. It growls and then runs off. I hesitate from a minute. The silver wolf is whimpering in pain as it’s blood slowly starts to pool Is going for a walk one afternoon and sees an injured wolf. She is about to leave when she hears it whimper. She put the gun on the ground and then walked up to it and knelt down. She slowly moved her hand to the wound. The wolf just stared at her. “it’s going to be ok.” She ripped the hem of her top off and pressed it against the open wound. A whimper escaped from the wolf’s mouth and she couldn’t help but flinch. Not in fear. She felt bad for the poor animal. She gave it a gentle stroke, feeling it’s silky fur glide through her fingers. She didn’t know why she felt so attached to it. “I'll be back in a minute.” She grabbed the shotgun as she ran back to her cabin. She placed the gun on the table as she grabbed the first aid kit and then a wagon she used to move firewood and went back to the clearing. She cleaned the wound, bandaged the wolf and half lifted and half dragged the giant beast onto the wagon. She shook her head and called herself an i***t as she took it home.