It’s been four weeks.
Four long, dragging weeks since I turned eighteen.
Four weeks since I was stripped of everything—school, freedom, future—and tossed into a life of full-time servitude. No more pretending. No more hoping I’d somehow outrun the curse of being wolfless.
I haven’t shifted.
Not once.
Not even a tiny movement.
It’s been a month and still, nothing moves beneath my skin. No wolf. No heat. No calling from the moon. Just silence. Just… me.
Most days feel like fog. One long blur of commands, insults, and aching limbs. I wake up, clean, obey, sleep, repeat. That’s it. That’s my life now. I don’t even think about what could’ve been. There’s no space for it. Thinking hurts more than anything else.
But even through all of this, my father always made sure to come see me.
Eve
