~Former Life ~
Masihah POV
The alarm clock on the warped wooden floorboards of the attic buzzed with a harsh, grating whine. My hand trembled as I reached out to slam it down, my joints aching with a deep, marrow deep fatigue. I dragged myself upright, the cold morning air biting into my skin through the thin, threadbare cotton of my oversized nightshirt.
I looked down at my reflection in the cracked, dusty hand-me-down mirror propped against the sloped wall. Thick thighs, wide hips, a soft stomach that swelled out against the fabric, and heavy upper arms. In the Dark Moon Pack, where elite warriors and sleek, athletic she-wolves were revered like royalty, my body was a walking sin. I was built like a heavy draft horse, my mother always spat, while the rest of the pack whispered behind their hands about how an Alpha’s bloodline could produce something so ungracefully thick, so heavy, so disgustingly soft.
"Masihah! You lazy, bloated cow!"
The screech tore through the ceilingboards, followed by the heavy, indignant thud of footsteps on the staircase below. My mother, Helen, didn't bother waiting for an answer before she shoved the attic door open, her face twisted into a permanent mask of disgust.
"Still lounging in bed while your sister is up and preparing for the first semester at Alpha Academy?" Helen sneered, her eyes sweeping over my curvy frame with undisguised venom. "Look at you. Taking up space, eating us out of Food, while Clara has to suffer just to draw breath. Get down to the kitchen immediately and pack her books. And don't you dare touch any of the blueberry pastries; you’ve got more than enough fat on your bones already."
Before I could mutter a compliant whisper, she turned on her heel and slammed the door shut, the vibration sending a flurry of dust motes dancing in the gray morning light.
My chest tightened, a familiar, suffocating ache settling deep in my ribs. Today was supposed to be our first day of higher education classes at Alpha Academy College, a privilege my parents paid for using pack funds, while I was only allowed to attend as Clara’s personal shadow and pack-mule, carrying her bags, fetching her lunch, and enduring the quiet, humiliating snickers of our peers.
I swallowed the lump of humiliation in my throat, rushing down the narrow staircase because I was too weak, too broken, and too terrified of the consequences to fight back.
When I stepped into the warm, sunlit kitchen, Clara was already sitting at the mahogany dining table. She looked like a porcelain doll, her small, slender frame draped in a pastel pink sweater that made her look fragile, ethereal, and perpetually sick.
My brother, Ethan, was standing beside her, carefully plating a warm, glazed blueberry pastry and setting it in front of her like an offering to a goddess.
"Eat up, sweetheart," Ethan murmured, his voice softening into a gentle purr that I had never, in my entire life, heard directed at me. "You need your strength for the first day of college. Especially with... well, with her dragging along behind you like a disaster."
He glanced over his shoulder at me, his expression hardening instantly as his eyes tracked my heavy hips moving past the kitchen counter. "And fix your posture, Masihah. You look like an overstuffed sack of grain walking through the door. Try not to embarrass us too much on campus today. If anyone asks, tell them you're just a distant pack orphan we charity-hired as a porter, not our blood."
Father sat at the head of the table, turning the pages of the morning pack gazette. He didn't look up. He didn't defend me. He simply took a sip of his black coffee, entirely content to let his wife and son treat me like dirt beneath their polished shoes.
"She's just tired, Ethan," Clara whispered, her voice a breathy, pathetic little flutter that made her sound like she was about to faint. She lowered her long eyelashes, pressing a slender hand to her collarbone. "Her anemia... it must be acting up again. She’s always so heavy and sluggish in the mornings. It’s okay if she’s slow. I don't mind carrying my own bags... even if it hurts my chest."
"See? Look at how kind your sister is?" Helen snapped, slamming a heavy stack of leather-bound textbooks onto the counter right in front of me. "Clara is coughing up a lung from her weak constitution, and you’re just standing there breathing heavily like a beast. Pick those up. Carry them to the car. And if you drop a single Book, you're walking the five miles to campus."
I kept my gaze lowered, blinking back hot, humiliated tears. I reached out with trembling, swollen fingers and scooped the heavy stack of books into my arms. The dead weight bit hard into my soft forearms, the strain making my muscles quiver instantly. My body was already weak, sluggish, and heavy.
"Hurry up! The pack car is waiting!" Ethan barked, shoving past me and intentionally slamming his shoulder against mine, sending me stumbling sideways into the pantry door. The books clattered sharply against the wood, a dull pain shooting up my spine.
"Clumsy cow," Ethan muttered, walking out the back door without a backward glance.
Clara stood up slowly, leaning heavily against Father’s arm as he guided her toward the exit. As she passed me, she offered a tiny, microscopic smirk, a fleeting flash of pure, venomous malice that only I saw before her face melted back into a mask of pathetic, trembling innocence.
"Come along, Masihah," Clara breathed softly, her voice carrying just enough to reach Helen’s ears. "I'll try not to walk too fast for you."
"Don't slow your sister down!" Helen hissed from the doorway.
I stood alone in the quiet kitchen, the smell of sweet pastries hanging thick and suffocating in the air. My arms burned with weakness, my breath came short and ragged, and my heart hammered a frantic, terrified rhythm against my ribs. I hoisted the books higher, swallowed my misery, and stepped out into the blinding morning sun.