Behind Closed Doors

POV: KAELIA

The moment Lorna and I stepped onto the school grounds, the social divide was impossible to ignore. The student body parted like the Red Sea, bodies pressing against lockers to give us a wide berth. Conversations dropped to hushed whispers as we walked down the central corridor. Everyone kept a very deliberate, fearful distance from us. We were the daughters of the Alpha and Beta, two men infamous for their terrifying, unhinged tempers and ruthless authority. No one dared to mess with us or even attempt casual conversation.

For us, this enforced isolation was preferred. We only had each other, and that was fine. The further we stayed away from the probing questions of other people, the less likely they were to uncover the horrific physical and emotional abuse occurring behind the closed doors of our respective homes. We didn't want their pity, and we certainly couldn't risk their interference.

We navigated the halls and retreated to the very back row of the geography classroom. I slumped into my seat and pulled out my notebook. The teacher's voice droned on at the front of the room, pointing at a map on the chalkboard. I tuned out the lesson. I dragged my pen across the blank pages, the rhythmic scratching sound echoing in my ears and pulling my mind backward in time to a traumatizing morning.

I was only six years old. I woke up jolted by the sound of smashing glass. My twenty-six-year-old mother and my forty-eight-year-old father were screaming at the top of their lungs. We lived in our old house back then, long before we moved to the packhouse. I stayed in bed for a long time, my small frame frozen under the heavy blankets. I couldn't find the courage to get out of bed and see what was going on.

Then I heard a sickening smack. It was my father slapping my mother, his deep voice booming through the thin walls in a furious roar.

Trembling, I crept down the dark hallway. I peered around the corner of the kitchen doorway. My mother was collapsed on the linoleum floor. She held her face, blood trickling from her nose where my father had just struck her. He loomed over her like a towering monster, his fists clenched tight at his sides.

She saw me standing there. She scrambled to her feet and wiped the blood away with the back of her hand, forcing a strained, terrified smile to comfort me.

"It's alright, sweetie. I'm alright. Why don't you go get dressed and then you can go outside and play with Lorna? How does that sound?" she asked, crouching down to my level.

I just shook my head. I stared at my father, shrinking back from his dark gaze before I turned around and closed my bedroom door. I started getting dressed, my tiny hands shaking while I buttoned up my shirt. Their fight wasn't over. I could still hear them screaming at each other.

When I managed to get dressed and walked back to the kitchen, my father was storming out the back door. My mother was standing by the sink, holding a bloody rag to her face to stem the bleeding.

"Why does daddy get so angry all the time?" I asked.

"I don't know, sweetie. He just does. Hey, are you all ready? I think Lorna is outside. I saw her playing in the playground earlier. Why don't you go and find her while I clean up this mess and all the broken glass?" she replied in a soft tone.

"Okay, mummy." I hugged her close before walking out the front door.

I fled to the playground and found Lorna sitting on the swings. She looked at me with sad, knowing eyes, then glanced back toward my house.

"I could hear your daddy screaming from here," Lorna noted in a flat tone.

I just nodded my head, swallowing the hard lump in my throat. She knew that meant I didn't want to talk about it.

"Do you want to go annoy Thorne? He's with his friends," she offered.

I smiled at that and nodded. We jumped off the swings and ran off to bother an older Thorne just to distract ourselves and cheer up. It was something we loved to do all the time, a brief escape from the nightmares waiting at home.

A sudden, sharp nudge to my ribs snapped me back to the present. I gasped, a soft hiss escaping my lips. The pain flared hot and sharp through my bruised torso. I looked to my right. Lorna was staring down at my desk with wide eyes.

I looked down at my notebook and my blood ran cold. Without realizing it, I had drawn a massive, snarling wolf. The beast was viciously attacking a defenseless woman and a child. I slammed the notebook shut and turned the page to hide the dark manifestation of my trauma. I sat up straight and tried hard to focus on the chalkboard, forcing my mind to concentrate on school.

Once the final bell rang, Lorna and I dragged our feet exiting the building. We took our time getting to our lockers to gather our things, dreading the mandated return to the packhouse. To our surprise, Thorne was already waiting out front. He leaned casually against his gleaming black BMW.

"Thorne, what are you doing here?" Lorna asked.

"I'm giving you guys a lift home." He flashed a beaming, charismatic smile.

Panic flared inside me. I took a step back from the car. "It's alright. We can walk. It's not that far."

"Too bad. Get in." Thorne ordered, leaving no room for argument.

We climbed into the backseat. Instead of driving back to the oppressive packhouse, he maneuvered the car downtown.

"The Alpha told us to get home straight after school because of that party tonight," I told Thorne, my anxiety spiking with every block we drove away from the pack territory.

"Don't worry. Dad and the Beta know that you girls are with me. I told them before I picked you guys up. You won't be in any trouble," Thorne assured us, keeping his eyes on the road.

He pulled up to a local ice cream shop and parked the car. We followed him inside and took a booth near the window. The atmosphere shifted into an interrogation the moment we sat down.

"You do know that we're not ten years old anymore, right?" I asked, sliding into the vinyl seat.

"I know. But I thought we could all sit down and talk." Thorne grabbed a menu.

"A coffee shop would have been better," I muttered.

Lorna and Thorne ordered ice cream, but I declined. I just wanted this detour to be over. Once the waitress dropped off their bowls, Thorne dropped the pleasantries.

"So Kaelia, how are the ribs going?" Thorne asked without hesitation.

His intense gaze locked onto mine. My heart hammered against the very ribs in question. I kept my face blank, refusing to give him a reason to dig deeper.

"Pretty good. I think they're just bruised. They'll be back to normal soon," I lied with a straight face, forcing my breathing to remain even.

"Yeah. Thank goddess for werewolf healing." Thorne took a bite of his ice cream, but his eyes never left my face.

Then his gaze snapped to his sister. "So Lorns, how has dad been since I left? Has he gotten any worse?"

Lorna shifted in her seat. She side-eyed me for guidance, her spoon hovering over her sundae.

"About the same, I guess," she muttered, staring down at the melting chocolate.

Thorne caught the silent exchange between us. He didn't push the issue right now, but a heavy, sickening feeling settled deep in the pit of my stomach. He was asking way too many pointed questions. He was fishing for the dark information we had spent years burying. He wanted to know about our physical and emotional well-being, but his investigation would only bring down the wrath of our fathers.

I retreated into total silence for the remainder of the outing. I just stared at the table while Thorne and Lorna reminisced about old childhood times. They talked like everything was normal, but my mind was spinning with paranoia, lingering trauma, and an escalating sense of dread. The constant, looming threat of the abusive fathers regulating our every move was a suffocating weight on my chest.

When we pulled back into the packhouse driveway, the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The imposing structure of the main house loomed over us.

"I need to go run some errands for dad before the party starts," Thorne announced, putting the car in park.

He left us at the front steps. Lorna and I watched his taillights disappear down the winding driveway. We stood in silence for a moment, the dread pooling in our stomachs.

I took a deep breath. Lorna mirrored my action. We pushed open the heavy front doors and walked into the foyer.

We froze.

Both of our fathers were sitting together in the dim living room. Their dark, furious eyes locked on us the second we stepped inside. They were waiting in complete silence for our return. I knew right then that this could not be good.