Chapter 87

Hannah’s POV

“This is a really bad idea,” Nora warned as we reached the kingdom line; as soon as we cross the line, we will officially be on rogue territory.

I knew my childhood home wasn’t far from the border because we would often go to the riverbed as a small getaway, or sometimes my mother would take Liam and me into the kingdom’s city to hang out. We were too poor to buy anything or do anything, but it was nice seeing other places other than the rogue town we lived in.

The town was dark; even during the day, it looked like it was nighttime. Rogues typically enjoyed staying in the shadows and hiding from those around the kingdom. They didn’t trust those who lived in the kingdom. Not that I could blame them because I too was starting to not trust those who live in the kingdom.

“We will be fine,” I assured Nora; I could feel her anxieties and she wasn’t happy to be back in the rogue town.

It felt familiar to us; I’ve been away from the town for about 5 years, and it still felt like a part of me remained here. The streets were made of gravel and crunched under my shoes as we walked; there was only a flicker of a streetlight to guide our way. At first glance, the town looked almost vacant. But I knew better than to think that. Most rogues stayed hidden, but they could see, hear, and smell outsiders for miles away.

The air was musky and difficult to breathe; I remembered many sleepless nights growing up when I struggled to breathe. My mother used to steal inhalers from the infirmary to help me at night.

As I continued walking the streets, I passed a long building I knew was the infirmary. I paused for a moment, staring at the familiar brick walls and the dark windows. It looked closed but I knew the windows were so dark it looked like there were no lights. Most buildings were like that, but once you got inside you would be filled with light.

My time at the infirmary, while my brother lay ill and my mother worked, was the reason I wanted to become a healer in the first place. My heart tugged at the memory; I felt like I was letting her down every day that I’m not practicing medicine and putting my skills to good use.

I brushed the thought out of my mind and went around the corner from the infirmary; we lived a little way behind the building. My mother found a small home that has been vacant for years before we occupied it. I did not doubt that it would still be vacant.

Other rogues told me they would look after my brother and me while we stayed in this home, but my father mindlinked me and ordered us to come home with him. He threatened my brother’s life and used his power as Alpha to cause us severe pain in our heads.

We didn’t say a word to anybody when we left; we didn’t say goodbye. They weren’t my friends, and they weren’t my family. They felt like we were an obligation because we were one of them. Rogues take care of one another. They must because they only have each other.

Our home was the same as I remembered it. I choked back a sob as I stared at the small pictures my mother placed around the living room. The sofa in the corner of the house was filled with dust mites and torn to shreds from all the times my mother lost control during the full moon. The floorboards squeaked as I walked and with each footstep, it felt like the house shook a little.

There was only one bedroom that we all shared; the mattress stayed on the floor, and it was also torn to shreds. There were boxes of stuff all around the home from all the times my mother promised to unpack things but never got around to it. It was like living in this town for those 13-14 years was only temporary. She kept hoping my father would come around and invite us to come back with him.

She held out hope until her dying breath.

I grabbed one of the empty boxes and began filling it with some baby supplies. I found old toys that I used to love as a child, some bottles, a couple of pacifiers, and diapers.

Something caught my eye at the edge of the bed and as I lifted the corner of the bed to grab it, I realized it was a little journal. I never kept a journal growing up so I knew it must have been my mother’s.

I found myself sitting on the bed, curling up as I often did when my mother was home, and laying my head on her pillow. As musky and dirty as my surroundings were, I was astonished that her pillow still smelled like her. I could smell her rosy shampoo lingering and it brought me back to the days when she wasn’t depressed. The days when she would shower and have a smile on her face. The days when she took care of herself, and I didn’t feel like a burden to her.

She would want to go to our little “paradise”, and we would swim for hours. Then toward the end of the night, my mother would watch the moon rising and she would get a sense of my father. She would be able to feel him as if he was close by.

I never understood why until I flipped through the pages of her journal.

…

Dear Diary,

I spent a long time trying to get this man to love me. I spent my whole life trying to get him to notice me. I wanted our first time to be special, I wanted it to mean something to him, but he took it with such force. I wanted him to stop, but he wouldn’t. it was like he was trying to win a race I wasn’t participating in. I felt myself bleeding under him and my body violently shook; the pain was too much for me to handle. I cried out for him to stop, and it was like I was talking to myself. He marked me with such force that I thought my neck was going to snap. I can remember his dark eyes and his blood-soaked features. He didn’t do this out of love; he did this because he wanted something from me. Something I wasn’t ready to give him.

Months later my daughter was born. I’ll never forget the disappointment on his face when he realized she was an omega.

He wanted to leave me then, but I begged him to give me another chance. I wanted to make things work with him because I loved him so much. He had marked me, and I could feel our mate bond was stronger than anything I had ever experienced in my life. It scared me how drawn to him I was after he was so violent and cruel to me.

Even as we remained married, he wouldn’t even look at Hannah. I raised her alone and it broke my heart knowing that she was never going to have a father that truly loved her. Once I was fully healed from birthing my daughter, he grew violent with me again. He wanted to try again and have another child and I would have done anything to keep him with me, even if it meant giving him myself again. So, I gave in, and we conceived another child.

Months later my son was born. He was another omega and that’s when he drew the line. He told me to leave and to never returned. Despite how hard I begged, he refused me.

I think I’m still so drawn to him and can feel him so easily because of the mark that remains on me. I can never truly be free of him…

…

I put the diary down, feeling a heaviness in my chest. My mother loved him so much and he still took advantage of her. He forcibly marked her just like Sebastian marked me. He was violent with her, and she had to live with zero choices of her own. It was no wonder she took her own life; she felt like that was the only choice that truly belonged to her.

I threw the diary in the box. I had to get out of there before I drove myself insane. I grabbed the box and made my way to the door.

As I got outside, I was surprised to be greeted by a familiar figure.

“Magnolia?”