The Voice
720 Words
Hannah was floating along peacefully in the black abyss when she heard the voice.
For once, her body didn’t hurt. She felt weightless— as light as a feather as she hovered in the dark. She couldn’t see anything, couldn’t hear anything.. and it was peaceful.
It’s so quiet, Iris whispered, I wish we could stay here forever.
Hannah wanted that, too.
“You can’t give up yet.”
Hannah’s head turned towards the sound of the voice. It was a man— a deep, rough, yet gentle and kind voice. The way he spoke almost sounded like a lullaby and it brought comfort to her bones.
“I’m not giving up,” Hannah whispered into the dark. “I just want to rest for a while.”
“We’re so close to happiness, Hannah. I’m coming for you. Don’t give up.” The stranger whispered back.
“Who are you?” She breathed. The voice made her body feel warm— safe.
She never got a response. And judging by the way the warm and safe feeling vanished, she assumed the stranger in her head was gone.
Hannah slowly came back around to reality and tried to catalogue how bad off she was. She’d passed out after the fifth strike of the whip.
Her back felt raw and tattered, and she could feel air hitting places it shouldn’t. She felt a thick, sticky substance coating her back and dripping down her legs, and she knew it was blood.
But she was awake, and she didn’t think she was actively bleeding profusely anymore. Iris may have been weak and not able to heal her at the ability of other wolves— it would take a few days— but she didn’t heal as slow as a human, either.
Hannah groaned as she pushed herself up off the floor; but her arms immediately collapsed below her, her cheek hitting the floor. She didn’t have the strength yet to pull herself up. Pain seared through her back, making black spots dance in front of her vision as she sucked in a deep breath. Last time, it took her several hours to be able to get up off the floor. This time would be even longer. She got weaker each time, and the wolfsbane laced in the whip Mrs. Blackmon used only slowed her healing further.
But she needed to get out of the cellar and clean her wounds or else she’d get an infection. She could have mind-linked Emily, but she knew Susan had her on a short chain, and she didn’t want to risk her sister being the one bleeding out in the cellar next. No one else in the pack cared enough to help her..
Hannah gritted her teeth. She knew who she was going to have to ask for help, and she hated it. But it was swallow her pride and ask, or get an infection in the damned cellar and take even longer to heal.
She sucked in a breath.
Hannah pulled Iris to the front of her mind, using the dormant magic that laid within Iris to envision a golden cord bursting from her forehead and darting up the stairs, out of the kitchen— to the person she needed to speak to, opening a direct line of communication.
Ryan?
Her relationship with her adopted brother was a complicated one. Most days, there was no sense of love or companionship between them. There was, however, usually a sense of loyalty to one another that they hated. Ryan was much less closely watched by Mrs. Blackmon now that he was older— he could get her out without anyone noticing.
What? His irritated voice responded in her mind. She was glad to see he wasn’t ignoring her, even if his tone made it clear she was an annoyance.
I need help. I’m hurt.
It was quiet for a moment, and Hannah panicked, thinking that maybe he wouldn’t come help her.
Where are you?
Hannah sucked in a relieved breath. The cellar, beneath the kitchen. I can’t walk.
I’m coming.
Hannah heaved out a shaking breath. Despite how much they disliked each other, she knew he would help her. They both endured the Blackmon family in different ways.
Hannah let the hard floor support her weight as she waited.
- Writer
