His Lycan Luna Queen novel Chapter 29

AZALEA

Each heartbeat resonates through me, pulsating in my veins and echoing in my ears. The tangy scent of her blood saturates the air, guiding me to the bathroom. Stepping into the bathroom, water splatters on the floor, and that is where I discover Abbie. She sprawls out on the cold tiles, her ear pressed against them as if trying to hear something from below. Her vacant gaze is fixed on the bottom of the sink basin.

“Abbie?” I whisper, a lump forming in my throat at the sight of her so shattered. It’s been years since she was this way – not since those horrific days following her return from Kade and before that being violated by the butcher. She doesn’t respond; only a solitary tear escapes her eye and slides down her cheek. She has been through so much, and everyone breaks, though I didn’t think it would ever be Gannon that would cause her to snap.

I initially think Gannon is responsible for this state – that he has hurt her physically. But as I take in the scene before me, it dawns upon me that Abbie has inflicted this pain onto herself. She’s been drowning in torment for a while now, but we all have different ways of showing it. Kyson drowns his sorrows in alcohol while Liam seeks solace in his twisted games of torture and the copious amounts of booze he consumes, Damian with his need for control, and Dustin by overworking.

As for me? I internalize everything until it threatens to consume me whole. And then there’s Abbie –Abbie always fights hers because there is no comeback from the sort of vice she fights, and that is death.

Carefully, I kneel beside her before sitting down on the frosty tiles next to her, our heads resting side by side. The emptiness in her eyes tells me she isn’t really here with me; she’s lost somewhere within herself – trapped within a past that continues to haunt and destroy her.

Slowly moving my hand towards her, I gently stroke her icy cheek with my thumb, catching another tear as it falls from her eye.

“I can still feel it,” she murmurs softly.

“Feel what, Ab’s?” I whisper back.

“The noose. It’s still there… so tightly wound I can’t breathe,” she confesses, her voice barely audible. My fingers trace the scar behind her ear – a mark that mirrors mine, a reminder of the death we narrowly escaped.

Her words continue in a hushed whisper, “I can feel it growing tighter, digging into my skin and burning through my flesh. I can feel the way it slides over my skin, growing tighter and tighter. Feel my blood rushing in my ears. I don’t want to feel it anymore.”

“What happened?” The question slips from my lips before I can stop myself. If I’m to help her navigate out of this darkness, I need to know what has pushed her back into it.

“I can’t be what he needs me to be,” she admits with a sniffle, wiping away tears with the back of her sleeve. “He shouldn’t be punished because I am broken.”

“You’re not broken, Abbie,” I counter softly.

“But I’m not whole either. He deserves better than that. He deserves better than what I can give him. So does Tyson,” she concludes with a sigh.

“What does Gannon need, Abbie?” I ask. Her brows knit together in thought.

“A mate. Someone to love him, who won’t hurt him like she did,” Abbie whispers, her voice barely audible.

“Who hurt Gannon?”

“She did. She didn’t want him, and I can’t have him. It’s the same.” Her words are a cryptic puzzle, one that I can’t solve yet because I don’t know of the woman she speaks of.

“Gannon wants you, Abbie. Tyson wants you. And me? I want you too,” I tell her. But as if my words are a trigger, she retreats into some dark recess of her mind while I struggle to pull her back to reality.

When there’s movement behind me, my eyes dart toward the door just in time to see Gannon silently entering the room. He moves behind her and perches on the edge of the bathtub. Abbie doesn’t notice him; she isn’t here with us in the present moment.

‘I don’t know how to help her,’ he admits through the mindlink. But his confusion mirrors mine – I’m not a doctor or a psychologist, and knowing Abbie’s reluctance to share her secrets with strangers makes me realize we won’t get far with that approach.

I turn my attention back to Abbie. She shivers violently; her teeth chatter so loudly it echoes around the bathroom walls. She is drenched from head to toe and laying beside her has soaked me as well – my clothes now heavy with her blood despite no visible wounds on her body.

Lifting up her shirt slightly elicits no reaction from her when suddenly Gannon’s voice fills my mind again, “She slit her wrists in the bathtub. I found a bottle of wolfsbane beside her.”

“Wolfsbane? Where would she get that?” My question hangs unanswered as Gannon merely shrugs. “I never got a chance to ask her.”

My gaze returns to Abbie’s distant eyes and I grab her wrists, now noticing the long thick scars running up each one. They are closed, but by their thickness, I can tell they were deep.

“Come back to me, Abbie,” I urge her softly. But she just blinks in response. So instead, I lay beside her on the cold floor, holding her hand and recounting every good memory we’ve shared together – just so she knows that I’m here with her.

Hours pass as we lay there together; Gannon remains next to the bathtub, while Kyson hovers nearby. Tyson is absent and I suspect Clarice or Liam has him.

“Abbie?” My whisper breaks the silence, and for the first time today, she reacts – her eyes move to look at me.

“We made a pact. You need to come back to me, Abbie, or I will follow you wherever you go.”

She shakes her head at my words.

“You don’t want to go where I have been. The things they did…” Her voice trails off into a whimper.

“What they did can’t hurt you anymore,” I assure her firmly. “I won’t let them hurt you again. Neither will Gannon.”

But Abbie interrupts me before I can continue, sitting up abruptly as rage burns in her eyes.

“I don’t want them to live with it!” she screams at me before breaking down completely in front of us. She claws at herself, ripping her own skin apart and tearing out chunks of her hair. Abbie is losing it.

She’s breaking down, and it’s shattering me to see her give up because that’s what she’s doing. Rage bubbles within me, as hot as hers, while Gannon tries to restrain her. But she screams – blood-curdling screams that ricochet off the tiled walls as her anger escalates. She starts attacking Gannon in retaliation as he attempts to prevent her from self-destruction.

My gaze sweeps over the room, taking in the walls closing in on me – walls that bear the marks of her self-destruction. “This is not me. This is not Abbie,” I whisper to myself as I close my eyes.

“Breathe, Azzy,” Kyson’s voice floats from somewhere distant.

When I open my eyes again, the walls are transformed. Gone are the haunting images of her deepest fears; now they’re adorned with our shared memories – each one a precious moment we spent together: dancing in the attic during the festival night; playing under the sun when our parents were still with us; painting with the children; an apple fight; and above all, her radiant smile.

As these memories begin to color the room around me, I feel her stir within me, adding memories of her own – Gannon and Tyson; a quaint cottage surrounded by wildflowers and pebble footpaths; and finally, her mother.

Together, we rebuild these walls piece by piece using fragments of happier times – small things worth fighting for until all traces of blood vanish, and only we remain amidst our cherished memories.

“More than my life,” I murmur to her as my heart rate steadies and breath returns to normalcy.

“How are you doing this?” she asks tearfully.

“I have no idea,” I admit through choked sobs as I watch her – whole and beaming back at me. “But it’s time you let go.”

“How?”

“By letting me replace what lies behind it.”

“You can do that?” she asks incredulously, her gaze darting around the room filled with our memories.

“I don’t know, but I feel like I can,” I assure her, raising my hand that begins to glow subtly.

“What are you doing?” she asks as I approach the walls of her mind.

“Reinforcing these memories and overriding the others,” I whisper before pressing my glowing hands against the tiles. Suddenly, a blinding white light engulfs us.

I gasp as reality pulls me back and find myself with my hands on either side of her head. “More than my life,” Abbie whispers back at me, her vibrant green eyes meeting mine.

“Always more,” I reassure her just as something warm trickles down over my lip.

“Azzy?” Abbie’s voice is laced with concern as she reaches out towards my face. That’s when darkness clouds my vision and everything fades away.