Chapter 1 1

The Abused Wolf

Chapter One

The Night They Came

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I'm six years old.

My tummy is full from the summer dinner Mom made-her creamy potato bake with roasted chicken, and that honey-glazed pumpkin I always ask for seconds of. She laughed with Dad while they cleaned the dishes together, sneaking kisses and pretending they didn't think I was watching from the living room floor.

I was warm and happy, playing with my Barbie doll in front of the fire, laying on the rug with my cheek pressed against the soft fur. The flames flickered gently, crackling like they were telling secrets. It felt safe. It felt perfect.

I was getting sleepy.

Mom walked into the room, drying her hands on the tea towel, her long brown braid over her shoulder and her eyes shining with love.

"Alright, baby girl," she said with a soft laugh. "Time to brush your teeth and get to bed."

I sat up slowly, clutching my doll by the hair.

And then it happened.

Bang.

A hard, violent knock crashed against the front door like thunder.

My heart jumped. My hands tightened on the doll. I looked at Mom.

Her face changed. In one breath, she went from smiling to terrified. Her eyes widened and darted toward the kitchen. I'd never seen her look like that before. Like something terrible had just arrived.

She didn't speak.

She scooped me into her arms and started running.

Her breath was shaky, her steps rushed. She opened the pantry door in the kitchen-where we kept the canned peaches and flour and sometimes chocolate hidden on the top shelf-and shoved me inside. It smelled like onions and old wood. I didn't understand what was happening. I wanted to ask.

"Hide in here, honey," she whispered, crouching down to my level. "Don't come out. No matter what you hear."

Her hands shook as she cupped my face.

"Okay, baby? No matter what. You stay hidden."

She kissed my forehead, over and over.

"I love you. So, so, so much. Always remember-Mommy and Daddy love you more than anything in this world."

And then she shut the door.

Darkness.

I sat on a sack of potatoes, holding my doll tight, trying to understand. My heart was beating too fast. My hands felt cold. I could still hear the fire crackling in the living room. I could hear the front door creak open.

And then the yelling started.

Men's voices. Harsh. Loud. Angry.

My dad's voice shouted something I couldn't understand. Then Mom screamed. Glass shattered. Something heavy hit the wall-maybe the table, maybe the chairs. It sounded like our whole kitchen was breaking.

I clamped my hands over my ears, but it didn't help. I could still hear the screaming. A man shouted. Then my dad. Then-nothing.

Just silence.

Not the quiet kind. The scary kind. The kind that feels like something is wrong. Very wrong.

I stayed curled in a ball. My knees were pressed to my chest. My cheek rested on my doll's plastic hair. I wanted to cry, but Mom told me not to make a sound.

So I stayed still.

And I waited.

I don't know how long I was in there. Maybe minutes. Maybe hours. My legs hurt. My back ached from sitting still. My mind kept whispering things I didn't want to hear-things like maybe they were gone. Maybe something bad happened.

Then I heard footsteps.

Soft ones. Cautious. Just one person.

The pantry door creaked open.

I blinked up at her. A woman. Not my mom. She had dark hair and cold eyes. She didn't smile. She didn't kneel down. She didn't ask if I was hurt.

"There you are," she said, like I was nothing.

She reached in and grabbed my wrist hard. I tried to pull away, but she yanked me out.

"Stop it. You're done hiding."

She dragged me through the kitchen. The floor was wet. There were broken plates. A smashed chair. Something dark smeared across the tiles.

I looked for Mom. I looked for Dad.

But I didn't see them.

Outside, the cold air hit me like a slap. The night smelled like snow, smoke, and something else. Something metallic and awful.

There were people everywhere. Men in dark clothes. A truck parked near the tree line with its doors open.

The woman pulled me toward it.

I didn't scream.

I didn't ask where we were going.

I just clutched my doll in one hand and stared at the house as it disappeared behind us.

I didn't know then that I'd never see it again.

I didn't know that from this moment on, my life would be pain.

But I felt it. Somewhere deep inside.

Something had ended.

And something even worse had begun.