Chapter 11 Nightmares
On the desk sat a framed photograph of two girls, their laughter frozen in time.
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One bore a resemblance to Michael, while the other was an uncanny mix of Lucy and the receptionist.
The realization struck them at the same time–those must be Michael’s sister and mate.
Take a seat. Michael instructed, his brow furrowed as he settled onto the couch. “If you’re willing to join, head to reception
to handle the paperwork. Someone will guide you through the job. If you’re fine with it, sign the contract.”
For the past three years, anytime Michael saw someone who looked even slightly like Lily, he would keep them close.
But they were never lovers.
They were just a way to keep her face within sight, as if that alone could trick him into believing she was still here. Maybe then, the nightmares wouldn’t come. Maybe then, sleep wouldn’t feel like a battleground.
Michael didn’t concern himself with what others thought of him, nor did he care to find out.
Since the day Lily died beneath that bright sky, the Bluemoon Pack had been shrouded in a never–ending gloom. The sun never fully emerged from behind the thick clouds, and the air carried more than just mist. It held a suffocating weight, pressing down on him like an invisible force.
He felt as if he was drowning, unable to take a proper breath
Louis‘ bloodshot eyes haunted his memory, glaring at him like two burning coals, always watching, always judging.
For three years, his nights were filled with tormenting dreams. He would see Jessica sobbing, asking. “Why didn’t you save
me?
Then, Lily’s swollen body drifted in the water, and she smiled as she whispered, “Congratulations on your Luna. I wish you happiness.”
Regret and sorrow consumed Michael like an unrelenting fire, keeping him awake night after night. Weary, he lit a cigarette and stood by the window.
The homes of the wolf pack’s mates glowed with warm lights. But there was no light left for him–no light from Lily.
After the Bluemoon Pack’s reforms, his parents no longer questioned his decisions, and Melanie had left in disappointment.
Michael had also abandoned the Alpha Manor, choosing instead to move into the house where Lily had once lived.
It was a place filled with memories of their past happiness.
Everything in the house remained unchanged, as if at any moment, Lily would appear beside him, smiling as she took his cigarette, saying, “Don’t smoke. His sister would follow, holding a deck of cards, urging, “Michael, let’s play!”
Now, the house was empty. The two women who mattered most to him were gone
The cigarette burned down to his fingers, the sharp sting snapping him back to reality. But he didn’t put it out. He let the heat scorch his skin, branding a small red mark.
The phone rang. AT this hour, there could only be one person.
“Are you okay?” A soft voice, gentle as the first leaf of spring, came through the receiver. “Your last check–up was three months ago. You should be free now, right?”
“Yeah. Michael crushed the cigarette into an ashtray, speaking softly, “Let’s meet tomorrow afternoon.”
I assume you couldn’t sleep again. Are you out of sleeping pills?”
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7:21 PM
Chapter 11 Nightmares
“Yeah. Can you prescribe more?”
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Charlotte said softly, “Have you forgotten what happened before? You can’t take more than the prescribed dose. You need more than medication, Michael. Be there tomorrow afternoon.
After the call ended, he went to wash up. He removed his watch, revealing an old, ugly scar on his wrist.
“Goodnight, Lily,” he murmured to the empty room.
But sleep never came. Instead, the nightmares returned.
A figure appeared beside his bed–a woman, her face bloated from water, her eyes black as night, with blood–red tears trailing down her cheeks.
Her lifeless lips moved, her voice unmistakably Lily’s. “Michael, why won’t you look at me? You knew I was poisoned with wolfsbane, yet you still gave me wine. Why? Did you want me dead, buried alongside your sister?”
“Yes.” His voice was steady, unafraid. “I’m sorry, Lily.”
Her cold hands wrapped around his throat, tightening. His breath shortened, his face turned red, yet he managed to smile.
“Lily, do it,” he gasped. “Kill me. Let me pay for what I’ve done.”
The next day, Michael arrived at Charlotte’s office
She barely looked up before her sharp eyes caught the faint bruises on his neck.
With only a glance, she knew it was another episode of self–harm.
When Michael had been hospitalized after his suicide attempt, the medical team had stripped his room of anything he could use to hurt himself. Charlotte had been assigned as his physician.
He was the first patient she took responsibility for.
That night, even after completing her rounds, an uneasy feeling had drawn her back to his room.
It was past midnight and Michael wasn’t in bed. He was crouched in the bathroom, dragging the jagged edge of a broken shower head across his wrist–slow, deliberate motions against his škių.
After that, he was placed under constant observation, A camera monitored 1m 24/7. Any object that could be used for self- harm was removed from his reach.
Charlotte routinely checked the monitors, and one evening, she spotted him again–his eyes shut tight, both hands wrapped around his own throat.
He wouldn’t die from it. As soon as the lack of oxygen made him lightheaded, his grip would naturally loosen. But the sight still sent a chill through her. For a moment, she couldn’t bring herself to look away.
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Chapter 12 Memories.
