~Former Life ~
MASIHAH POV
The sterile, fluorescentlit walls of the pack clinic smelled of antiseptic, cold metal, and quiet dread. Tuesday morning had arrived with a merciless chill, dragging me away from the safety of my lonely attic room and straight into the trap my family had meticulously woven.
I sat on the edge of a stiff examination table, my legs dangling slightly above the linoleum floor. My thick thighs and wide hips strained against the coarse fabric of my oversized trousers, a constant, physical reminder of the body my family despised. Across the sterile room, Clara was lounging comfortably on a cushioned recliner, wrapped in a plush cashmere blanket, sipping warm ginger tea while Mother adjusted her pillows with infinite, doting care.
"Are you comfortable, my sweet angel?" Helen murmured, her face beaming with warmth as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Clara’s forehead. "Just relax. The physician says this restorative tonic extraction will clear up your chest tightness in no time. You won't feel a thing."
Clara offered a fragile, trembling smile, lowering her long eyelashes just enough to look like a suffering saint. "I feel bad that Masihah has to sit over there... but the physician said my iron levels are critically low again. I’m just so grateful she has enough strength to spare."
Ethan, who had skipped his first morning lecture just to chaperone this little medical ritual, leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. He cast a sharp, venomous glare in my direction, his lips curling into a sneer.
"Don't waste your pity on her, Clara," Ethan scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. "Look at her just sitting there, taking up space like an overstuffed sack of grain. If she didn't spend all her time eating and lazing around, maybe her blood wouldn't be so heavy and sluggish anyway. Be quick about it, Doctor. We have classes to get to, and I don't want to spend all morning breathing the same air as her."
Father stood near the window, checking his gold pocket watch with an expression of detached impatience. He didn't look at me. To him, I wasn't his daughter lying on a medical table, I was simply an organic utility unit, a clumsy machine being tapped to keep the family’s golden asset functioning.
"Get on with it," Father instructed the pack physician without a trace of warmth. "We don't have all day."
The pack physician, a tall, humorless wolf with cold gray eyes and silver-rimmed spectacles, stepped forward, pushing a rolling cart laden with sterile tubing, collection bags, and thick metal needles. He didn't greet me, nor did he ask for my consent. To the pack hierarchy, an omega without status had no right to bodily autonomy.
"Roll up your sleeve," the physician commanded flatly, his voice as sterile as the surgical steel in his hands.
With trembling fingers, I reached up and pulled back the fabric of my worn, faded sleeve. My arm looked pale against the harsh overhead lights, soft and full, marked already by the subtle fatigue of weeks of psychological and physical wear down. I kept my gaze fixed downward, staring at the cold linoleum floor, swallowing the bitter taste of panic rising in my throat.
"Stop trembling like a coward," Helen snapped from across the room, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "You're just sitting there while your sister is the one who actually suffers. Honestly, your dramatics are pathetic."
I didn't answer. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, the raw, suffocating fury clawing at my chest might slip out too soon.
The physician grabbed my forearm, his grip rough and calloused. Without warning, he shoved the thick, cold needle deep into the vein inside my elbow. A sharp, searing pain shot up my arm, making my fingers instantly go numb. I gasped, a cold sweat breaking out across my forehead as the dark, heavy flow of my life began to pulse through the clear plastic tubing, draining steadily into the collection pouch hanging beside the bed.
"See?" Ethan laughed lightly, shaking his head. "Not even a real injury, and she's already pale. Pathetic."
Within minutes, the first collection bag filled with a deep, heavy crimson. My head began to spin, a dull, throbbing ache blooming behind my eyes as my blood pressure plummeted. My limbs felt heavy, weighed down by lead, and a strange, hollow chill swept through my chest.
"Good," the physician murmured, clamping the tube before swapping it for a second, empty pouch. "The recipient’s transfusion line is ready. We can route this batch directly into Lady Clara’s IV."
Across the room, Clara watched the second bag begin to fill, a tiny, almost imperceptible smirk touching the corners of her lips before she quickly transformed her expression back into one of weak, sorrowful gratitude.
"Thank you, Masihah," Clara whispered across the sterile expanse of the clinic, her voice dripping with sickly sweet poison. "I can already feel... warmth coming back into my chest."
"That's my girl," Helen praised, rushing over to stroke Clara’s hair again while completely ignoring the fact that my fingers were turning cold and my vision was beginning to blur at the edges.
The second bag filled. Then, with a cold, mechanical detachment, the physician prepared for a third draw.
"Wait," I choked out, my voice weak, raspy, and barely audible over the hum of the clinic equipment. "That's... that's too much. My chest hurts..."
"Shut your mouth," Father barked, stepping forward from the window, his eyes flashing with icy fury. "Do not create a scene over a simple medical procedure. The physician knows what is necessary. You have more than enough blood to spare, look at the size of you. Stop acting like a spoiled, ungrateful brat."
"She’s just trying to get attention, Father," Ethan added, rolling his eyes in utter disgust. "Always whining about nothing."
The physician didn't hesitate. He secured the third needle placement, and the dark red flow continued, stealing away the last remnants of my warmth, my energy, my strength. My face grew stark white, my breathing shallow and ragged, my arms turning into a map of fresh, angry needle marks.
Yet, as the darkness crept inward at the edges of my vision, and as my family fawned over Clara with the stolen life force pulsing through her veins, the fear inside me completely vanished. In its place, a freezing, absolute hatred crystallized around my heart.