Chapter 632: The Lies That Keep You Alive
Warning: This Chapter contains sensitive and distressing thes, including violence and the abuse of a minor.
Her body burned in a way that felt unnatural, her limbs too heavy to move, her thoughts slipping in and out of clarity as the heat pressed down on her from the inside.
Her mother ca not long after.
Sophia rembered that mont with a clarity that stood apart from everything else.
There had been no concern in her voice when she spoke, no softness in the way she looked at her.
Only anger.
"You’re sick," she said accusingly.
Sophia, already weak, could only shake her head faintly, her voice trembling as she tried to explain that she had not ant for it to happen.
But her words did not matter.
What mattered was that she had failed.
The task her mother had given her, the one Sophia could not even rember, had not been completed, and in her mother’s eyes, that was the only thing that mattered.
And Sophia had the audacity to sneak out even after she had failed to complete the task her mother had given her.
The punishnt ca quickly.
Sophia did not understand it at first, not fully, but the pain made it impossible to ignore. Her mother’s hand struck her more than once, each impact driving the sa ssage into her over and over again until there was no space left for anything else.
It was her fault.
Everything was her fault.
Even when her body was already too weak to support her, she was dragged from the bed, her protests too soft to make a difference. The cold surface of the floor t her skin as she was pulled forward, and before she could understand what was happening, she was forced down toward water that was far too cold for her already burning body.
The shock of it stole what little breath she had left, panic rising sharply as she struggled against sothing she did not have the strength to fight.
Her mother’s voice remained steady through it all, repeating the sa thing as though it were the only truth that existed.
It was her fault.
When it was over, Sophia could barely think, let alone speak. She cried until her body could not manage even that, her voice breaking apart as she whispered the only thing that made sense to her anymore.
Her mother loved her.
She had to believe that.
Because if she didn’t, then none of it would make sense.
That day stayed with her.
Not because it was the last ti she was hurt.
But because it was the first ti her mother had hurt her physically. The contrast between the woman who had combed her hair and the one who had tried drowning her was too much for Sophia to cope with.
This too would be a mory she would force herself to forget. Her mother loved her after all. This was discipline... yes, yes it was. Her mother loved her. She was doing everything for Sophia’s sake.
That was the day she almost gave in to the dark that called her. She saw her friends on the other end that day, and though she wanted to go with them, her wolf and the kind nanny made her stay behind, and so she did.
So weeks later, her mother showed up, and this ti she didn’t ask Sophia for a vision, neither did she ask if Sophia had completed the task she gave her.
Instead, she made Sophia drink a tonic. That was the first ti Sophia tasted sothing that would then beco a permanent fixture in her life.
Her stomach had been filled with dread when she saw the vial.
The small vial with its strange green residue clinging to the inside. Every part of her had resisted it instinctively, but resistance had never been sothing she was allowed.
She drank it. Apart from the strange taste, there was nothing about the tonic that affected her.
A month later, her mother returned with the tonic again.
This ti, Sophia did not hesitate.
She drank it without resistance, without question.
That night, she dread.
The images were unclear, shifting in ways that made them difficult to understand, but they lingered.
She did not like what she had seen. It did not seem like whatever her mother had asked for. It did not seem like sothing she was used to; even her wolf had confird it.
But when her mother asked her the next day what she had seen, Sophia hesitated only briefly before answering.
The look in her mother’s eyes told her that if she didn’t give her an answer, it would likely affect her, and so she told her.
But what she had seen made very little sense to her, and so she tried to shape it into sothing that did. Into sothing that would be acceptable. Sothing that would not result in her being punished.
It was not entirely the truth.
But it was close enough.
Her mother listened carefully, her gaze fixed on Sophia in a way that made it impossible to look away.
And when she finally nodded, sothing inside Sophia eased in a way she had not expected.
That was the second ti she lied about a vision.
And it would not be the last, because from that point on, Sophia started having these dreams due to the tonic. But what she didn’t know was that the tonic wasn’t just making her have these dreams; there was sothing more sinister going on, and it would only take years before Sophia would find out—and by then, it would be too late.
But these dreams helped her. She wasn’t hit by her mother like that day. Her mother even started treating her kindly.
But there was a day when Sophia was sixteen. She had only gone to the kitchen as she normally did when she ran into soone—soone she had thought was a guard.
The problem wasn’t with the person she had run into, but with her mother, who was livid when she found out.
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