My Lycan Mate of Suicide Forest

[trigger warning - self harm]

"Do the other packs have this?" Andreas asked with agitation as he stared, transfixed, at the video loop on Kai's computer.

"We disabled the feed early yesterday morning just in case there was some activity during Zoe's experiment," Kai answered this time. "A few have called to report problems, but we told them we were doing maintenance. It's back on now."

Andreas breathed a sigh of relief. If the other packs saw some insane phenomenon like this happening on their pack's land, it would take a lot of explaining to diffuse any suspicion it caused. He didn't need that right now. He had to figure out what was happening with this witch and how to deal with it without having to deal with any further issues.

He cleared his throat. "Zosime, I don't understand. This is impossible. She is one individual. If this is simply due to your little experiment, then why the multiple lights? And all over pack land?"

"It is hard to understand, I know," she patted Andreas' arm comfortingly as if he were a child. He glared at her. "But you know, each of us being individuals is really debatable when you think about it—in quantum physics for example, we see that the lines we so easily assume divide us are virtually nonexistent the closer you look. And one small electron can look like an individual while behaving as a wave…"

"Zosime, Zosime," Andreas raised his hand to stop her. "I don't want to hear your theoretical babble right now."

"It's not theoretical. These are tested and verified facts…"

"They do not help explain how what we are looking at is possible," Andreas argued. "I need a simple explanation. What. Is. Happening?"

"But how could you understand if you don't listen? Fourth dimensional models suggest…"

"Zoe!" Andreas roared. "Enough!

Zoe's eyes went wide in response to the scolding. He was loud and scary and treating her like a child again.

"I don't care about any of this quantum fourth dimension garbage. I need answers. I need action. Get me that. I don't want to hear from you again until you do," he roared further, his face going red in anger before he stomped out of the conference room.

Tears welled in Zoe's eyes before she could stop them, and she covered her face.

"Are you okay, Zo?" Kai asked.

She sniffed and nodded before walking out of the room and down the hall to her office, the daylight blurring with her tears until everything around her seemed watery and beautiful and… and hopeless.

She hated him. She hated Andreas so much. He was in a position to be the only one who would ever show her love, and he routinely denied her that at every opportunity.

She accepted that he would not take her as his mate like he was intended, which was fine because she would rather choke on her own vomit than mate someone as ancient and ignorant as him. But he also denied her the love that he could have offered her as a father figure. Not only that, he scolded her and berated like a child. And he kept her hidden in here like a prisoner.

She was left with nothing but this clinical, professional relationship in which he still stifled her ability to perform at her highest capability. He didn't understand anything, and yet he expected everything. She was only a tool to him.

Zoe collapsed heavily in her chair and buried her head in her hands. This was such an exciting discovery yesterday—it was completely unexpected and unprecedented, she had literally spit out the lemonade she was drinking when she saw it—and yet Andre still couldn't see the beauty and promise in it.

That familiar heavy, hopeless feeling welled larger in her throat, spilling the tears from her eyes, and she hated that too—that he could make her feel this way. This was no way to live. She should be out there exploring all the fascinating, thrilling parts of this magnificent world, but she was trapped. Forever trapped to be Andre's slave for whatever he needed.

A quiet sob escaped, but she slapped a hand over her mouth and squinted her eyes shut. The office door was closed, but what if someone heard her? She had an appearance to maintain—how could an emotional teenager without a wolf lead such an important team?

With those thoughts, she bit the finger that was in her mouth, and that small pain brought some relief. Physical pain was easier to deal with.

She sniffled and let the tears fall without wiping them, but her face turned somber. Slowly, her hand made its way to a drawer in her desk and slid it open. It opened too easily. She would have preferred it to open slow so that she had to put some effort into it—something physical she could struggle with and make obey her.

With her eyes trailing as emotionlessly as she could make them, her hand searched for the rough handle that she told herself she wouldn't turn to again. But here she was, feeling too many things and hating everything, and she just needed it to go away. If she could store it in her skin, she would. Maybe it would actually work this time.

The knife was rough and carved from bone. It was beautiful—so rustic and unlike the sleek, modern decor of this part of the pack house. Instead, it reminded her of the woods outside her window that she so desperately wanted to wander. But most people in the pack didn't even know she existed.

Another swell of tears escaped with those thoughts, and she let them continue sliding down her face without interfering in their path. They were free. She would allow those tears to be free.

She swallowed and brought the knife in front of her, turning it over in her hand and running her fingers over the deerskin wrap. It wasn't shiny. It wasn't sleek. But it was beautiful anyway.

The pointed edge of the blade rested against her wrist as she twirled the knife in her hand. She knew anatomy well. Even if it were possible for her, slicing her wrist would never work. People were often left with lifelong injuries and pain when they tried it. What she would give to be one of those people—to feel something… more.

Her grip shifted so that she held the handle securely in her fist with the blade point down. She gritted her teeth and pushed it straight down into her arm. That beautiful dark red liquid pooled around the carved bone before slowly receding back into her skin.

Her arm had healed itself around the knife just like every other time.

And then the tears came in force. She pulled the blade across the width of her wrist, savagely slicing the flesh open so that for the briefest moment it gaped grotesquely before healing back to her smooth, porcelain skin once again.. She looked at the blade, remnants of her blood sliding down its carved surface before she threw it back in the drawer in disgust.