Forever in the Past and Forever in the Future

Forever in the Past and Forever in the Future by Neener Beener chapter 1

Most people don’t even remember the packhouse has a dungeon. I do though. I have a little room in the back that used to be a solitary confinement cell. It smells of old piss, vomit, and blood. You get used to it. I have a cot and an old tattered blanket to keep me warm. I even scored a lamp out of the trash. It still works, so I have light to do my homework. Home sweet home and all that jazz, right? I mean, at least I’m not a rogue.

Oh yeah, I should introduce myself. My name is Iokaste Latmus, but I go by Kas. No one calls me Iokaste except for teachers on the first day of school. I’m a werewolf in the Silver Moon pack. Since I’m an orphan, I’m not

completely sure how old I am but pretty sure I’m sixteen. Also, I’m an omega which means I’m a servant. My job is to make the meals for the werewolves who live in the packhouse. Between making breakfast and dinner for over a hundred wolves, cleaning up after them, and

restocking the pantries of the ranked members’ apartments on the third and fourth floors, I do normal teenager stuff. Except, I don’t really have a lot of spare time to do normal teenager stuff. So homework, homework is the extent of my normal teenager stuff.

Right now, it’s eleven-thirty at night. I’m putting the finishing touches on my English essay when I hear the door of the dungeon slam open. Great. Now what did I do? It doesn’t take much. Alpha Graham Connors is an alcoholic. It’s really difficult for werewolves to get drunk,

which means you have to drink really heavily to feel the effects. Which means he probably had a fight with Luna Caroline about his drinking. Which means she locked him out of their room. Which means he has come down to take out his anger on me. Just an average Tuesday night in the packhouse.

The sharp smell of whiskey hits my nose well before he appears in front of my door. I know the drill. I’m already on my feet waiting for him.

Oh crap oh crap oh crap. I’m thinking in my mind.

“Alpha Graham, what can I do for you?” I ask with my eyes looking at the floor. I keep my hands clasped in front of me, trying to look as small as possible.

Without a word, a whiskey bottle whizzes past my ear and smashes against the wall above my cot. I flinch and can’t help but start to tremble and hug myself. We’re beyond ‘Oh crap’, we’re in ‘Oh shit’ territory now.

Whatever is about to happen it’s going to be worse than usual.

He lunges forward and grabs me by the throat with both hands. I feel tears coming to my eyes as the lack of oxygen turns the edges of my vision dark. I desperately claw at his hands, trying to escape his grip but it’s no

black indicating his wolf Ruckus is

from the lack of oxygen. Without warning, he throws me across the room as if I weigh nothing. My body slams against the wall and I land on my back on the cot. The shards of the broken bottle pierce the skin on my back through my thin t-shirt. The whiskey makes the cuts burn. I try to muffle a scream as the pain sears through me. He comes across

grinding deeper into my back. I can feel blood soaking through my shredded shirt. I don’t dare move and make him even madder. I feel my ribs snap when his foot makes contact. One of

has been using me as his personal punching bag for years, but this was way more intense than it has ever been before. Usually, he slaps me a few times, then whips me until I’m bleeding and raw. In the past couple of years, he started dipping the whip in wolfsbane, which makes me heal

is small and garbled between the broken jaw and blood pouring out of my mouth. He abruptly stops and walks out of the room. He comes back a moment later with the whip and starts lashing my

whip is dripping

with the glass shards still in my back, combined with the wolfbane

turns blurry and I

have to feed the pack. Oh dang, I didn’t get a chance to turn in that English essay. It was a good one too. The constant soft beeps

in a brightly lit, clean room. This is the afterlife? Maybe this is some sort of waiting area, but where’s the lobby? Is there a receptionist? My mind slowly becomes more clear and I realize I’m

to panic, making the beeps in the room become faster. Oh, I’m hooked up to a bunch of machines. I try to figure out how to unhook them so no one hears the noises. Too late, I hear people in the hallway getting closer. I try to sit up. I need to ignore the pain. I have to escape. I slowly slide off the side of the bed. My legs were wobbly. The tubes and wires sticking out of me preventing me from getting

with a nurse. The doctor is an older man. He has black hair that’s turning gray on the sides. The nurse is young with blond curly hair pulled back into

awake. Let’s get you back in bed, shall we?” The doctor says gently. He and the nurse come to either side of me and reach out to hold my arms. A deep growl escapes

and raw and my mouth feels like

you here. We’re trying to help you heal. Let’s get you back to bed and get you a drink of water,” the doctor raises his hands

bed. The nurse hands me a cup of water with a

bed as the nurse checks my vitals and starts messing

reset some ribs, your jaw, and you had a lot

the doctor

that last part, doc? I think

prepared, Beta Tate went to get you and found you