Fic: Do Not Whisper To The Wind
This is for my "Rejection" square on my Hurt/Comfort Bingo card. Please note, it contains self-harm and references to past dub-con/non-con. Please proceed carefully. Thank you.
Title: Do Not Whisper To The Wind
Word Count: 666
Fandom: Original Fiction, part of the Pack series
Rating: PG-13 (due to self-harm, dark thoughts and references to past dub-con/non-con)
Warnings: Again, self-harm, dark thoughts, references to past dub-con/non-con.
Summary: The bright spark reminds her she's still human, that she's not a ghost.
*******Her hand trembles as she drags the shard of glass along the swell of her bicep, the pain a sharp and bright sensation as the blood wells up and spills over, a bright spark that reassures her that she’s still human, still alive, still here. She’s not a ghost.
*******
Her stomach was twisting, coiling in on itself as her Dad made the announcement, made the declaration. They were moving, three states and a time zone away. New job, new house, new ‘friends’, new school. She had lobbied to stay with her grandparents in the state until she graduated, keep from bumping schools halfway through the year and halfway through her sophomore year, had begged and pleaded and coherently argued, until her Dad had slammed the paper down and snarled that they were moving, as a family, and that was it.
She tried not to think of how this was going to affect her secret family. Her chosen family.
This was going to end badly. She didn’t even need her Sight to see that.
*******“God, they really fucked you over, didn’t they?” Jane says as she runs fingers over the old marks and scars, prodding at wounds that are sealed over but still feel new. She shrugs, trying to keep her tongue still and not spill the stories behind each one. That’s not from them, that was an old car lighter that burned so brightly, felt so hot and alive against her ribs. She freezes when Jane brushes over her Initiation scar, and rolls out of the bed, fumbling for her top. She hears the sheets rustle as Jane sits up but doesn’t stop from tugging on a pair of jeans. “Kit?” A flood of memories crash over her, and she flinches hard, muttering something about leaving the Jeep headlights on.
She still doesn’t know if they fucked her over, or saved her.
********“For your acts against the good of the Pack, and the breaking of your vow to protect this family, I hereby banish the pup known as Aura to exile.” Leo’s words were firm and unyielding, and she had bitten through her lip without realizing it, hot copper filling her mouth and making her stomach sour worse. Gods, not exile. Not banishment.
He unfolded his knife, the oil-slick pattern flashing dully in the moonlight, and she braced without a sound when he cut through her Initiation mark, knife biting easily through scar tissue, cutting her out of the Pack. “Until I decree otherwise, you do not exist to us. You are rejected, unfit for service to us.” She still averted her eyes, watching the dirt until it blurred from the tears welling up, but she refused to allow them to fall. She still had some pride left, after all. Leo nodded, returning to his spot. “Anyone caught interacting with the banished will be exiled as well. We do not tolerate traitors in our midst, and you will report to me if anyone has contact with the exiled. Is this clear?” The other sound their agreement, eyes carefully averted from her, and she shakes, panicking as they disband, her name not passing any lips, the members skirting her to avoid touching.
She’s alone, and it’s terrifying in ways she couldn’t realize before now.
*******She presses the glass shard a little harder, deeper, grinning even as she hisses as the pain lights up along her leg, blood slicking her fingers. The hot drips that slither down her ankle is refreshing, pushes back the fog of the banishment, and lets her know she’s still here. The sting of the whiskey as she takes a sip matches the sting of the alcohol on the new cut, enough pain to make her feel powerful. She can almost hear the Pack as she douses it again, liquid fire on raw nerves.
She’s still alive, she’s still not a ghost. Exiled, banished, Sight gone and Prophesy true, but she’s still breathing. The pain tells her that much.
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