C2 2

Content Warning: This passage has tough content, including an extreme physical and emotional abuse example.

Jenny

I didn't enjoy my day-to-day life. This was not a unique situation—it kept happening over and over. Again, I was in the hot kitchen, cooking a meal for my mother, her rude boyfriend, and their relatives, who hung around the house ready to eat everything. Once I finished the big meal, I served it to them. I gave them lots of nice meat, enjoying the short break from their usual mean looks.

As they hungrily started eating, their loud talking and hearty laughter echoed through the typically silent house. I slipped into the background. Barely seen, I went back to the kitchen, quietly setting aside a bit of meat for myself—my only reward for the hard work.

Just as I was reaching for the small meat piece I set aside, a strong hand pushed me onto the cold, hard floor. It was my mother—both kind and horrifying. She looked at me angrily, her body shaking like she was about to transform into a werewolf. "What are you doing? Stealing food from us?" she accused me.

I had been keeping quiet, holding in the constant bad treatment because I had nowhere else to go. This time though, something within me broke. I found my voice in the smokey air. I loudly answered back, "Am I not your daughter? Why do you treat me worse than a stray dog?" The words came out carelessly, my desperation giving me courage to face the impending disaster.

Her eyebrows lifted in surprise, her reply as cold as a winter night. "Because you're ugly! Just look at yourself—you're a sight for sore eyes. You're dirty and—"

Interrupting her, I said, "If I'm dirty, it's because of you. I'm always outside in the cold, often getting soaking wet from the rain, because you won't let me sleep inside. I'm nothing but skin and bones because the only food you give me is your leftovers. You always ignore to provide me with clothes, not caring about the ripped and worn-out clothes I have to put on. Did you even remember today is a special day? It's my birthday, mother— today I'm 18."

The slap from her sent me sprawling across the kitchen floor, leaving me with nothing but a hard, bitter disappointment. I had hoped for a little kindness but her mocking laugh showed me there was no room for such wishful thinking. "You're crazy to think you can call me 'mother'," she snapped back, her words filled with pure nastiness. "You are a result of a wild night I had with a bear shapeshifter. You should be grateful I still let you live in this house."

Her lack of kindness made me so angry. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists, desperately wishing I could transform into a creature like they do. To fight back, to protect myself. But I stayed human, weak and completely defenceless against the physical attack that followed.

My mother turned into a storm of anger, hitting and kicking me without stopping. I was treated as an enemy, not like her child. I fell to the floor, struggling to breathe as a painful ache spread through my chest. Despite my fear and the pain, I held back my tears.

With the small amount of energy I had left, I tried to drag myself towards the door, wanting to escape this terrible situation. But my mother shouted at me, stopping me. "Where the hell do you think you're going?!"

Tired and hurting, I said back, "I have kept my dignity despite everything. You quickly resort to harmful actions, and I am leaving. I won't ever return." My words could have made things worse, but it was too late to take them back.

Suddenly, I was pulled back into the house by my hair. This seemed to amuse the others. My mother's boyfriend locked the door, their cruel laughter echoed around the house as they enjoyed seeing me suffer. My mother, smirking cruelly, coldly said, "Even though you're covered in dirt, it's time for you to be useful."

I didn't understand her words and they scared me. I stumbled back a little, bumping into the wall as I asked, "What do you mean?" My fear seemed to make her laugh.

She let go of my hair and looked around the room at the men. Most were related to us, some just knew our family. She sounded happy as she said, "It's breeding time, dear." She looked at me again. "Look at them, Jenny! All single, desperate. They need a mate, even if it's someone as unwanted as you."

It felt like being hit by lightning! I couldn't believe my own mother could think of such horrible things. The cruelness in her words suggested she was capable of truly monstrous things.

I tried to stand up, my mouth tasted like blood. I glared at her, shaking as I replied to her announcement, "I refuse to be used for breeding!"

She laughed, acting as if I wasn't serious. I was dumbfounded by her nerve as fear wrapped around me. My heart pounded as I watched the men come closer.

"Why are you doing this, Mom? Can't you see what you're doing? Please, stop it." I begged her to stop as I tried to move away from her.

In response, she became angry and stomped on the floor so hard she damaged it. She then yelled at me, "Your father was a bear! He lied to me. He already had a mate when he had sex with me, then he left."

So, I had to pay for her anger? I shot back, "So, you're getting revenge on me? Your own daughter?!"

She briefly stopped, staring blankly at the ceiling. For one short moment, I felt a glimmer of hope. But that hope was crushed when she turned away from me, coldly telling the men, "Just do her."

In an instant, was held down by them. I knew shouting for help wouldn't help. Any noise I could make would be swallowed by the empty space around our cottage.

Trying to delay things—and maybe even escape—I suggested, "Let me clean myself for you."

The men looked at each other, and then at my mother's boyfriend, who seemed to decide things. After getting a nod from him, they finally agreed. He sneered, telling me, "Alright. Don't take too long. I'm eager to get these urges satisfied."

As I headed towards the shower room, they touched me inappropriately, their enjoyment fueling their actions. But they didn't notice the small window in the shower room—a possible chance for me to escape. Soon, I was running away, leaving my past behind me, finally finding freedom but also becoming homeless. The hidden food I used to complain about was now something I wished I had. I found myself in the wild, surviving by finding my own food.