Coming Undone

Absinth's nightmares were a relentless descent into madness. They were twisted chronicles of cruelty and manipulation that her father had woven around her since childhood. Recurrent. The edges shrouded, her vision within her dreams tunneled and focused on only the very worst aspects. The memories were like festering wounds that refused to heal, oozing with the venom of her father's sadistic tendencies whenever she entertained them. Horrid things they were. Unescapable.

His malevolence had burrowed deep within her psyche, a dark seed that had grown into a gnarled thicket of fear and loathing. She could always feel his eyes on her, that predatory gaze which stripped away any semblance of safety she felt. Always. No matter how far she got away. How far she ran. At first she told herself that she had not run from him, had not been disobedient – that it was all his own insanity. But in the end she had to accept the fact that she had. She really had escaped him. And now he was here.

The scars of her upbringing manifested in every strained breath of strenuous activity and every semblance of liquid fire that coursed through her veins when she was emotional. His abuse had become an inescapable part of her being — a stain that tainted every piece of her life. The darkness within her father seemed to have seeped into the very marrow of her own bones, turning her into a living embodiment of the nightmares she had endured. His every word had twisted her mind. Corrupted her. Defiled her soul. He was in her. Unwashable. Unable to be purged.

He was her own personal monster. A being of pleasure and obsession. But why did he have to be so set on her?

On this particular night, as the moon hung high in the sky, Absinth found herself restless and afraid to sleep. The forest seemed too still, the night too quiet. She longed for the thrill of the hunt, the exhilaration of the chase, anything to break the monotony of her existence – the anxiety of being prey herself. A fight was what she needed, maybe? Fuck, she’d perferred the infestation of the Sound, where polar bears constantly sought out her hide for their bedding. Anything but the echoes of her nightmares.

With a soft sigh, Absinth padded silently through the underbrush, her senses alert for any sign of life. Any. Really. Aresenn was probably off doing something for Sephiran, damn that bastard. Yarrabelle was… recovering. She didn’t want to think about that. So. What else was there to do?

It wasn't long before she caught the scent of another wolf on the breeze, a familiar scent that made her heart quicken with anticipation. Following the trail, seeking the company of one of her packmates, wondering what her dear Elysia’s brother was like. It was a distraction, one she was willing to welcome.


wormwood