3 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

6:37 am

Pedro woke up with a start, his eyes snapping open as he jerked upright in his bed. His head was pounding from a hangover-induced headache, but his brain was working overtime, putting together puzzle pieces that his drunk mind had been too inebriated to notice the night before.

“Pedro? What’s wrong?” Valerie asked from beside him, presumably woken up by his sudden movement.

Pedro got out of the bed and started pacing the room as things became clearer. “Last night… At the bar. Th-that… that man I spoke to, he started acting strange as soon as the topic of Roxy came up. I was already tipsy so I didn’t think much of it at the time, as he mostly just seemed to be sad about the situation, but that wasn’t it!”

“What was it, then?”

It clicked. Pedro slowly looked up at Valerie, shame and horror building up inside him. “He… he was guilty. He was guilty about something, something to do with Roxy, which… wh-which means…”

Valerie’s face flashed with understanding. “...He knew where she was… and how she was being treated.”

Pedro ran his hands through his hair in panic. He missed it. His one shot. Because he was drunk. “God DAMMIT!” he yelled, kicking his bed frame out of frustration. “I COULD HAVE FOUND HER! I’M SO FUCKING STUPID!”

Pedro fell to his knees and let out a roar of pure rage and self-loathing. Roxy was going to suffer for longer, and it was no one’s fault but his own. If he’d just been sober enough to pick up the man’s signals, he would have noticed his guilt. He could have followed him and found the outpost. It would’ve been so easy. But no. Poor Pedro just had to have a drink to drown his sorrows.

Gentle arms embraced him from behind and he realised he was crying. How pathetic.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. If you hadn’t gone to the bar, you wouldn’t have even seen this man in the first place. At least you have some sort of lead now, right?”

Pedro took a deep breath and stabilised himself. Now wasn’t the time to be breaking down. Valerie was right. “You’re right. I’ll… I’ll go down to the station and put out a call for someone matching his description. Someone has to know something.” He placed a hand over the arms around his torso. “Thank you.”

She kissed the back of his shoulder. It was warm. “Any time, mon beau.”

—

3 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

11:06 am

Roxy laid in her cell. The only things that existed in her world were cold, hunger, and pain. She was already done with her training for the day, as well as her subsequent punishment. She’d been expecting something as creatively cruel as her previous punishments, but instead, he had just beaten her, plain and simple. It wasn’t as bad as being waterboarded or having every square inch of skin on her back torn up, but that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt. It was hard to breathe, her barely healed nose once again filled with blood from being smashed in. Her chapped lips were split, her whole body felt like one giant bruise, and she was pretty sure one of her ribs was cracked. Her stupid handcuffs were chafing her wrists, too, prompting her to frequently rub them to soothe the discomfort. People kept using them to pull her around, which couldn’t be helping the issue. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had permanent marks around her wrists should they ever be taken off. The doctor hadn’t talked to her much today, which was a shame. He was usually the only person who would treat her like an actual human being, and not some punching bag or piece of meat to gawk at. She really missed having clothes.

Her stomach growled in protest at its lack of sustenance. Aside from about a mouthful of egg yesterday, she still hadn’t eaten since before being taken. She never thought being hungry would hurt so much, but it was taking up almost every inch of her attention. It was painful and uniquely nauseating. That part confused her. What was her stomach planning on throwing up if it was already empty? Why would being hungry make her nauseous?

Well, either way, she hoped that it didn’t come to that, regardless. The bucket in the corner, just as she’d predicted, had already started to smell something fierce. It seemed like they changed it once a day, at the very least, which was a small mercy. She couldn’t imagine it would be very hygienic to just leave it there to fester, especially with as many wounds as she had. There was a very big risk of infection there.

The constant crushing boredom was also torturous, in its own way. She expected to find herself relieved to be thrown back in her cell at the end of a training session, but instead it was the opposite. While yes, she could just lay there and be relatively undisturbed and safe for a few hours, it was also quite literally mind-numbing. At least when she was taken out she had things to look at, faces to examine, and sights to see, even if the faces were those of her captors and the sights were those of brightly lit hallways and Emmerich’s office. In the darkness of her cell, she was alone with her thoughts, and her thoughts, as it turned out, could be quite depressing. She didn’t want to consider the fact that it was entirely her own fault she ended up here, but what else was there to do when locked in a dark room with not even a single defining feature for her to stare at? After all, if she had never let her curiosity get the better of her about Sam’s eyes, she never would’ve been a target. Unequivocally her own fault.

Besides, the other situations her no-doubt already slightly crazed mind came up with were only amusing for as long as it took to think them through to fruition, which wasn’t long at all. What would have happened if she’d never saved Sam from that trap? What if she’d been saved or gotten out on the first day? What if Leif had been taken instead? What if they’d been taken together? What if Blaine was still alive? What if Emmerich tripped over and ate shit and died? And so the cycle continued, spiralling down into a hole of nonsense. Hell, she was even already holding fake conversations with herself about those hypothetical scenarios. It hadn’t even been a week yet since she’d been taken and she was already talking to herself. Or had it? Honestly, Roxy had no idea, the passage of time was a complete mystery to her in the ever-unchanging darkness. She was just assuming that she was taken for training once a day, though she had no real way of knowing for sure.

Eventually, the door opened and Emmerich walked in, once again carrying a tray with a bowl on it. There was something else on it, too, but Roxy couldn’t make out what.

“Dinner time, Roxanne. I do hope you’ve learned your lesson from yesterday.” He placed the tray on the ground and stared at her silently. She stared back, eyes flitting back and forth from him to the tray, too scared to move in case she did anything that got her food confiscated again. Seconds ticked by and nothing happened. Emmerich checked his watch. Roxy felt like she was losing her mind, just sitting there and waiting while the cure for the agony in her stomach was right there. It was a test of her obedience, she knew, and while a part of her wanted to spite Emmerich and show him that he couldn’t control her, the larger, more sensible part of her knew that she just had to swallow her pride and wait like a good little soldier. She was just glad he wasn’t looking at her like he had yesterday.

He looked away from his watch. “Alright, you’re a fast learner. You may eat.”

Roxy immediately dashed forward and started shovelling egg into her mouth like it would disappear if she didn’t do it quick enough. It wasn’t an irrational fear, to be fair. Emmerich laughed darkly above her.

“Look at you, crawling on the ground and eating with your hands like some sort of animal. You’re pathetic. Just what would your friends and family think of you if they saw this? They would think you’re disgusting. They’d probably give up looking for you altogether. After all, who would want to be friends with something so pathetic and useless?”

Roxy paused, humiliation burning on her cheeks. Was… was that true? It probably was. She knew she wasn’t exactly… very put-together at the moment. God, what was wrong with her? Had she really become that desperate already?

She sat down properly and began eating much slower, embarrassed by her own actions. Emmerich chuckled again. “Oh, by all means, don’t stop on my account. I’ll be back to collect the tray later, but you can keep the bible. You might learn a thing or two from it.” With that, he left the cell, closing and locking the door behind him.

Roxy glanced at the other thing on the tray. She’d completely forgotten about it in her desperation. Sure enough, it was a bible. If it had been given to her on her first day, she probably would have ripped it up out of spite, but as it was, she would gladly take it. Regardless of whether or not she agreed with the contents, it was an entire book. That was entertainment - or at the very least, stimulation - for hours. She almost cried tears of joy at the thought. She didn’t, though. She tried not to cry if she could help it. Crying made her eyepatch gross, and she didn’t want to increase the risk of outright losing her eye because she’d been careless and gotten it infected. She only got to see the doctor after punishment, after all. Best save her tears for then.

—

4 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

1:16 pm

Leif stared up at a bright blue sky, slightly obscured by a canopy of leaves above her head. She was lounging against Sam, who was resting in her wolf form. The girl needed a break from constantly worrying about Roxy, so Leif forced her out here, into the woods. There was nothing they could do right now, anyway. It did make her a little sad to know that she was doing something that Roxy had probably done hundreds of times; resting in the underbrush on top of her giant golden wolf. Wherever she was, she couldn’t imagine that Roxy was getting much sunlight.

A shuffling noise filtered out from between the trees. Leif sat up and tried to see if she could find the source of the sound, but nothing stuck out. She turned to Sam and ran a hand through her mane.

“Who’s out there? Do you know?”

Sam just sighed depressedly in response. The poor thing really wasn’t doing well. She’d graduated from anger and frustration to depressed moping, not that Leif could blame her. She wasn’t doing well herself. She was trying to stay strong for everyone, but she’d burst out crying at the dinner table last night, after her mom tried to get her attention and broke her out of a dissociative trance. Her best friend was being tortured. Every time she remembered that fact it almost stopped her heart. It was impossible to believe. Things like that just didn’t happen to people close to you. And yet, the truth remained steadfast.

A familiar man stumbled into the clearing before coming to a sudden stop, staring wide-eyed at the scene before him. He was probably the source of the noise, Leif realised. She wondered what Damien was doing out here.

“L-L-Leif…? Wh-what is th-th-that?” he asked, pointing at Sam, the gargantuan golden wolf. Yeah, that reaction was probably warranted.

“Oh,” she started, sitting up off of her packmate. “This is… A-Artemis,” she explained, barely remembering the name Roxy had told her. “Don’t worry, she’s harmless. Come say hi.”

“H-harmless? Are… are you sure?”

Sam just huffed another sigh. “Yep. I wouldn’t be sitting here if she wasn’t,” Leif promised.

“A-Alright then.” Damien carefully made his way over and sat down next to the two. Sam sniffed his hand before gently placing her head down on it, looking up at the man with those puppy-dog eyes of hers. “How on earth did you tame a wolf?”

“Well, she isn’t… mine,” Leif admitted. “It was actually Roxy who first… uh, found her. Saved her from a bear trap. They’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”

“Huh. She never mentioned her,” he said, stroking Sam under the chin, much to the wolf’s apparent satisfaction. He’d grown comfortable in her presence incredibly fast. Probably where Roxy got it from, Leif considered.

“Well, how would you have felt if your daughter told you she was going out to go hang with a giant wolf?” she shot back with a friendly smirk.

Damien chuckled in response, but there was a sadness to it. There was a sadness to everything, these days. “You make a good point.”

“So, what are you doing out here?” Leif asked.

He sighed. “Well, I know Roxy likes to hike through these woods. We used to do it together a lot when she was younger. I just… wanted to be close to her in some way, wherever she is.”

“Yeah,” Leif admitted. “That’s why I’m out here, too.”

Damien was silent for a moment before he next spoke. “I just… wish I knew why she was taken. The more I think about it, the more confused I get. These past few months… Roxy’s changed a lot. So have you, for that matter. You both started working out all of a sudden, disappearing together all week. I never really knew the reason, though. I just… can’t help but feel like she was hiding something from me, something that might have to do with why she was taken.”

Leif thought about what she could possibly share with him that could ease his suffering without revealing too much. There wasn’t a lot that came to mind. There was one thing, though. “...Do you remember when Roxy and I got mugged?”

Damien looked at her curiously. “Yeah.”

“That… wasn’t actually a mugging. Roxy had… she noticed she was being stalked. She asked me for help and we confronted the guy. Turns out, he was actually some crazy cultist who wanted to recruit her for whatever reason. I didn’t really catch a lot of the crazy stuff he was talking about, but he threatened to kidnap her and kill me, so we fought. He really kicked our asses, but we made it out of there, just about.”

Damien looked shocked. “So… you think it’s this cult that took her?”

It wasn’t a theory, it was a fact, but Leif didn’t share that. “I wouldn’t discredit the idea.”

“Why… Why didn’t you tell us? O-or the police?!”

Leif winced. “Roxy never wanted to make a big deal about it. She was really scared by the ordeal, she just wanted to forget about it. An attempted kidnapping would get a lot more attention than a mugging.”

“That could be useful for the investigation!” Damien all but shouted.

“Pe- uh, the lead detective already knows. I already told him everything when he questioned me.”

“...oh,” Damien deflated. Leif took his hand.

“They’ll find her. I can’t say if she’ll be unharmed, but they will find her. We’ll get her back, Damien.”

His mask reformed. He sighed. “I do hope so. I just miss her.”

Leif looked down. “So do I.”

Sam whined.

—

5 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

10:32 am

“Sam? I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.”

Sam looked up from where she was sorting books back onto the shelf. Her boss, an older, grandma-like woman named Delilah, was looking at her with concern written all over her face.

“Yeah,” she responded, her voice hoarse. “Hi.”

“I told you you didn’t have to come in today. I know things must be hard for you right now, you look like you’ve barely even slept! Go and take the day off, alright?” Delilah ordered in that half-scolding, half-worried tone of hers.

“I-I’m fine, I promise. I just… need to keep active. To try and… distract myself, I guess,” Sam replied. As if it was possible to distract herself. She could feel every bit of fear, depression, and loneliness that Roxy felt. She didn’t want to think about what all of the pain she’d felt last night could mean. She just wished she could talk to her. She missed her so, so much.

“Well, if you say so. Just… let me know if you need anything, okay sweetie?” Delilah patted her on the arm comfortingly. Sam forced a smile in response.

“Sure.”

Delilah left and Sam got back to her duties, wheeling her little cart between the shelves and returning books to their rightful place. She liked the library. It was quiet, the people were nice, and the smell of books was soothing. Best of all, there weren’t any TVs anywhere reporting on Roxy, reminding her that the love of her life was suffering. She sent a smattering of love to her girlfriend, even though the girl seemed to be asleep. She hadn’t woken up since whatever horrible torture she’d been put through the night before. Sam hoped she was at least given somewhere comfortable to rest.

After a while, Delilah came and found her again. “Sam? Someone left a letter for you in the book return slot.”

Sam turned to her. She was holding the envelope in question. Her heart jerked as memories surfaced of the last time she got a letter addressed to her. She quickly walked over and took the letter out of the older woman’s hands. “Who put it in?”

“I’m not sure, I didn’t see. What is it?”

Sure enough, her full name was on the paper. No scent of blood this time, so that was something, at least. Whatever was inside wasn’t any thicker than a letter should be, either.

Sam was hesitant, but her curiosity won over and she tore the envelope open. Inside were… photos, it looked like. She pulled them out and…

Oh god.

Sam dropped the photos onto the floor as she instinctively backed away, but it didn’t matter. The gruesome and horrible images they held had already branded themselves into her mind permanently, ready to haunt her every time she closed her eyes.

Roxy. Restrained spread eagle on a table. A duct tape gag over her mouth. Naked, her whole body covered in purple and yellow bruises and welts. A look of pure terror and agony in her one visible eye, the other covered by a medical patch, a long, thin cut travelling down her face seemingly bisecting it. The arm closest to the camera was also covered in cuts, but these were fresh and bleeding. A disembodied pair of hands held a scalpel and was contributing to the mutilation. It didn’t look like they were making it quick.

From what little she’d seen of the other photos, they seemed to depict a similar thing happening to each limb, as well as one of the finished product; Both of Roxy’s arms and legs, covered in short, thin, bleeding cuts, her gaze blank and distant, not entirely there. There was a smattering of cuts across her stomach and chest as well. No part of her body was sacred to them, nothing was left unmarked. Bile rose in her throat. Hatred for people she’d never met burned in her gut, more than she’d ever felt before, even for the man who took her parents from her.

There was a gasp. Sam’s eyes refocused. Delilah had seen the photos. She knew now. She knew that Roxy was being tortured. How long would it be before the whole town knew?

Sam sprinted to the bathroom just in time to throw up.

—

6 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

2:25 pm

Pedro drove down the road towards Sam’s house. He was exhausted, he hadn’t slept all night, but still he was pushing through. The photos that had been sent to Sam yesterday were now proof to the investigation team that Roxy was still alive, albeit not in a good state. They hadn’t been released to the public, nor would they ever be, but news outlets had reported on the fact that there was now evidence regarding her condition. The librarian who’d seen the photos had promised not to share anything about them for the benefit of Roxy’s privacy. Pedro had been forced to inform her parents of her treatment, however, at the request of his boss. Damien had demanded to see the photos and, as much as Pedro tried to refuse for the man’s own good, he eventually acquiesced. The horror and pain on his face was something that would haunt Pedro for the rest of his days, as if the contents of the photos wasn’t already enough for that. No one should be subjected to that kind of torment, least of all a kid. He tried to ignore the feeling at the back of his mind, reminding him that it wasn’t just any kid. It was his kid, his ward, the girl he’d sworn to protect, and, if he wasn’t mistaken, soon to be his packmate. He couldn’t stop himself from sharing his scent with Sam whenever he tried to comfort her, and it seemed to go both ways. She wanted him in her pack, and he would gladly join it. It should’ve been done a long time ago, anyway.

He pulled up in the Walkers’ driveway. He was worried about Sam. He still hadn’t checked up on her since yesterday when he picked her up at the library, and as far as he knew she was home alone today. He was off work for the rest of the day, so he thought it prudent to keep an eye on her, given her current mental state.

When he stepped out of his car, a familiar scent immediately stung his nose. Alcohol. He could hear crying coming from the house. It seemed he was too late. Pedro sighed and quickly made his way onto the porch, unlocking the front door with a spare key he knew was hidden under the mat. The sight before him when he entered was almost enough to break his heart.

Sam was lying on the floor of the kitchen, sobbing and rocking back and forth limply. There was an empty bottle of whiskey lying next to her, a few drops of it spilled onto the tile. The bottle would have worried him if it wasn’t for the fact that that was the same one he and Carol had shared the night of Sam’s stabbing. There hadn’t been much left, but for a werewolf who likely had minimal experience drinking, it was more than enough to get her absolutely wasted, which was likely her intention.

“Oh, kid. What have you done to yourself?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. Sam gurgled in the middle of a sob and Pedro had about half a second to step out of the way before she spilled her guts. It wasn’t a pretty sight. At least it was on tile and not carpet, he supposed.

“I-I… wan’ R-Roxy…” the girl sobbed, seemingly to no one. Pedro sighed. He couldn’t just leave her like that, but he wasn’t super sure what to do. Her clothes stunk of booze and now vomit, but he wasn’t comfortable with the idea of getting her into some fresh ones, especially not when he couldn’t ask for permission. Resigning himself, he went and grabbed a fresh towel and laid it down over the couch. Returning to Sam, he scooped her up off of the floor and onto the island counter, wiping her clothes down the best he could with a wet paper towel. She didn’t protest. He wasn’t even sure if she was entirely aware of his presence. Once she was as clean as he could hope to get her, he picked her back up and carried her over to the couch, laying her down over the towel and pulling a blanket over her. After that, he quickly grabbed a bucket from the garage and left it on the floor near Sam’s head.

“Alright, Sam, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you need to hurl again, do it into this bucket, okay?”

“Mm’kay…” she muttered quietly.

He squeezed her shoulder gently before stepping away to clean the mess in the kitchen. Right as he was about to leave, he heard something that stopped him in his tracks. It was quiet and slurred, but impossible to miss in the otherwise perfect silence of the house.

“Thanks, dad.”

Pedro turned back around. Sam appeared to have drifted off. He smiled gently, a warm, unfamiliar feeling in his chest.

“No problem, kid.”

—

7 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

9:06 pm

The heavy silver collar clicked shut around Roxanne's neck. Emmerich smiled. Preparations were complete. He stepped back and admired his handiwork. Roxanne was on her knees, chained to the floor by silver shackles around her wrists, ankles, and neck, locked up in standard werewolf containment procedure. There was fear and confusion in her expression, but she knew better than to talk without permission by now. She really had come a long way from the stubborn, foul-mouthed, headstrong teenager she’d been just a week earlier. She was obedient for the most part, but she still had a habit of hesitating on certain instructions, which was absolutely unacceptable. She would learn in time.

Her body was covered in bandages, heavily insisted upon by that irritating doctor after her punishment a few days prior. That particular affair had been Harrison’s idea; usually Emmerich wouldn’t choose something so physically scarring as a simple punishment for disobedience, but his superior had insisted, as part of the plan to make the direwolf desperate. Well, Emmerich would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy it, regardless. All of those enticing sounds the girl was making, the way her body would twitch and writhe under his scalpel, desperate to get away but completely unable. There really was no feeling like it in the world. She’d earned herself a day of rest and a full night in the comfort of the infirmary for her efforts, so she shouldn’t be complaining.

He eyed her body up and down, ignoring the sinful thoughts that rose in the back of his mind in response. That part of him wished that she was simply bait and not a trainee, so that he could do whatever he wanted to her without consequence, but alas, that was not the case. He knew he wasn’t the only one thinking about it. He could see it in the eyes of all of his co-workers, yet they all knew better than to act on their thoughts. He was the only one in a position to do so, should he so choose, but, to be honest, he found the idea to be quite distasteful. He would much rather she come to him for it than to force it upon her. If he did so, he would likely lose what little ground he had made towards her obedience, which wouldn’t be worth the meagre satisfaction he would gain from indulging himself. He buried those thoughts away. If she did come to him, it would simply be a good milestone in breaking her homosexual tendencies, nothing more.

Comparing the girl before him to the girl who’d woken up in his office a week prior, he could see she was already a shadow of her former self, at least physically. Her once impressive musculature had started to waste away, along with most of her body fat. Her ribs were clearly visible and her cheeks were hollow. Maybe he should start feeding her more than once a day, but as far as he was concerned she had done nothing to earn it yet. She still wasn’t even fully obedient, after all. Still, he had to commend her restraint. The anticipation in her eyes was palpable, and he was impressed that she hadn’t broken the rules and asked a question without being prompted. Not that her obedience would change what was coming.

“I can tell you’re curious, so go ahead. Ask away.”

Roxanne swallowed thickly before speaking. “Wh-what is this ab-b-bout? Y-you’ve already p-punished me today.” Her voice was rough and broken, barely even audible. Honestly, with the amount of screaming she’d done in the past few days, Emmerich was surprised she could speak at all.

“This isn’t a punishment, Roxanne. I’m simply… curious about something, and I’d like to test my theory.” He picked up one of the two syringes on his desk and held it up to the light. Inside was a dark, opaque liquid. “This is a little drug we like to call DX-47. Don’t ask me what the name means. That’s for the scientists to know and for me to not care about. I do believe you’re familiar with its effects, however.” Roxanne stared at him blankly, so he elaborated. “Does the name ‘Blaine’ ring a bell?”

Immediately, her whole face paled. It seemed that she’d put two and two together. “Yes, this is what turned him into the mindless monster that attacked you that night. Stronger, faster, practically immune to damage from non-silvered sources. The perfect predator. Now, its effects have been tested on humans before, to mostly minor results, but I have a theory about you, Roxanne. I believe that, due to your extended contact with werewolves and, specifically, a direwolf, the drug may have a greater effect on you than it usually does on regular humans. Wouldn’t you like to find out?”

“Wh-what?! N-no, no I wouldn’t! P-please don’t! Please j-just let me go back to my cell!” she begged, as if that would do anything. She should know by now that begging would get her nowhere.

“Silence! I’m sick of your whining. Honestly, how did any of your friends put up with you? Annoying little wretch. They should be thanking me for taking you off their hands.”

Roxanne immediately clammed up. She looked hilariously sad. It seemed like she was truly beginning to believe his words, his constant affirmations that none of her friends really cared for her, nor her family. The quicker she dropped those meaningless connections, the quicker she would accept her new place. He walked up to her, syringe in hand, and injected the drug into her neck before she could protest further.

For a few seconds, nothing seemed to be happening, until Roxanne’s whole body suddenly jerked. She gasped in pain, her muscles all spasming and flexing like she was having a seizure, strangled grunts of exertion slipping from her throat. She strained against her shackles to no avail, her one visible eye bulging out and locked straight onto him. So far, so normal. She started frothing at the mouth and her gums started bleeding. So did the beds of her nails, though that might have just been a coincidence, given that her finger and toe nails had been torn off for her punishment earlier that day. Her sclera slowly turned red as the blood vessels in her eye burst. Thick, dark blood fountained out of her nose and spilled onto the floor. Her body jerked once again and she let out an agonised scream that quickly descended into a rageful roar, directed right at him. He grinned. Still nothing out of the ordinary for a human injected with DX-47, but fascinating nonetheless.

Her muscles bulged to their maximum size, impressive for a girl of such small stature. He would probably have to grant her another rest day after this, as he doubted she’d be able to move much afterwards. She screamed again and her iris suddenly started glowing amber, revealing pinprick pupils. Finally, something abnormal. Her eyes were glowing as if she was a shifting werewolf, yet she was definitely a human, as proven by her lack of reaction to the silver shackles. That was very interesting. Emmerich watched in fascination as a patch of her hair above her right eye turned stark white. Marie Antoinette Syndrome, it appeared, although it was impossible to know whether it was caused by the stress of her situation or some unexpected side-effect of the drug. If it was simply stress induced, he wouldn’t have thought the hair would immediately change colour, but would grow out white instead. In that case, the drug must have had something to do with it.

The change appeared to be complete. Roxanne was thrashing against her bonds, frantically trying to attack him as pure, unadulterated, animalistic rage flooded her entire system. She was hissing at him and arching her back as she tried to break free, flecks of spit and drool spraying across the room and dripping down her chin. Honestly, she was acting more like a feral cat than any sort of wolf. He wondered if it was just due to her personality or some other factor. It was also curious that her eye was glowing like that. It had to be due to the direwolf’s influence in some way, but exactly how, he couldn’t be sure. Well, as fun as it was to watch her repeatedly try and fail to get to him, he couldn’t just leave her in that state. He grabbed the other syringe off of his desk and carefully approached her, not eager to get anywhere near her gnashing jaws. He got behind her, where she couldn’t reach him, and injected her with the antidote.

Slowly, her body returned to its normal proportions, her muscles deflating as they untensed. The girl immediately went limp and flopped onto the floor, unconscious. Blood was seeping through her bandages. He wouldn’t be surprised if she tore more than a few stitches during her transformation. He walked around and inspected her face. Her eye was slightly ajar, iris returned to its regular coffee-brown hue. Her sclera was still red and bloodshot, and that patch of hair remained white. He couldn’t imagine that not being permanent, to be fair. A permanent reminder of her servitude, of what happens when she disobeys. Her body was covered in reminders already, but there was always enough space on the canvas for more. Emmerich smiled. His pet project was turning out quite well.

—

8 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

10:58 pm

Roxy laid on the towel she’d been given, grateful for its relative softness and warmth compared to the cold concrete floor. The doctor had apparently advocated for it, due to how many open wounds she now had after… Well, she didn’t really want to think about that. Still, his argument had been compelling enough to earn her a more comfortable place to sleep, so she couldn’t complain. She still couldn’t lie on her back, though, and now that the rest of her body had been equally slashed up, there wasn’t any position that was comfortable enough to bring sleep. She’d just been relying on her body giving out after enough exhaustion set in.

Speaking of exhaustion, she’d been pretty much unable to move all day from whatever Emmerich put her through last night. The pain in her muscles made it feel like she’d done fifteen full-body high-intensity workouts all at once. It did mean that she’d gotten out of training for the day, at the very least, but that just meant being stuck in the silent isolation of her cell all day. She couldn’t even shuffle over to the door to read her bible in the dim light seeping through the cracks, that was how stiff she was. Not that she had much interest in reading it again, though. She’d already read the whole thing cover-to-cover three times and was getting quite sick of its abridged take on christianity. She was by no means an expert on the subject, but going to a catholic school meant she had enough background knowledge to know that certain parts of that book had been heavily edited to suit the hunter’s narrative. She was pretty sure Jesus never advocated for the extermination of werewolves, at the very least.

What the hell even happened to her last night? She remembered being brought into Emmerich’s office and being chained to the floor before getting injected with the same drug that apparently transformed Blaine, but everything after that was just a haze. She remembered feeling incredibly angry, so angry that it felt like her insides were on fire, but that was about it. Well, the fact that she could still form rational thoughts meant that there was probably an antidote, at the very least. She made a mental note to remember that. It would probably bring Pedro a lot of relief to know that.

With a great amount of effort and pain, Roxy forced herself up into a sitting position, bracing herself against the wall. Her bangs fell over her eyes and she remembered that little white streak that had appeared in her hair. Where did that even come from? Did Emmerich bleach it while she was out or something? She certainly didn’t take him for a stylist, so it had to be something else. It had been like that since she woke up, anyway. She briefly wondered if it was permanent, and then decided that she honestly didn’t care anymore. Her body was already permanently ruined in so many other ways, what did a little white streak of hair matter? She could always dye her hair, but she’d never be able to cover up the mess of scars littering her entire body. She’d never be able to pretend that she still had a little finger on her left hand, she’d never be able to hide the massive cut that was bisecting the left side of her face, ruining her eye and stealing her vision, perhaps forever.

Would Sam still have any interest in her if she ever got out? Sam was so pretty, with those sparkling blue eyes, her fluffy blonde hair, her sharp jawline and soft, pink lips. Roxy knew that she was already pretty plain-faced even before all of this happened, that’s why she was so proud of the strides she’d made with her body. Her eyes were dark and boring, her face round and slightly chubby. She’d been so surprised when Sam had shown interest in her, even before she’d started working out. But now? What could Sam possibly see in her anymore? Her entire body, once a place of pride for her, was now just a patchwork of ugly cuts that would no doubt turn into even uglier scars. Her left hand was disfigured. The nose that Sam had frequently called ‘cute’ was now crooked and bent from being broken. She was broken. A broken mess of a human being. Even if she got out, what would be waiting for her? Rejection and loneliness, no doubt about it. Sam was too good for her.

Roxy’s depressing thoughts suddenly paused as an overwhelming burst of love and adoration swam through her. Sam was still thinking about her, still sending her love. She frowned. How dare she let herself think like that? She had to have more faith, Emmerich was just getting in her head with all of his bullshit about her friends and family hating her, about her being worthless and useless unless she was serving him. Sam loved her enough to mark her and share her emotions. She loved her enough to let her meet her parents. Sam would still love her, even if her body was covered in scars. It was hypocritical of her to think she wouldn’t, especially after she’d comforted Sam about her own scarred face. The question was, would she be able to love herself? Would she still be able to see herself in the mirror and recognise the girl she saw? Would she still be able to see herself and smile, once this was all over? Roxy didn’t know. She would’ve liked to say that the answer was yes, but she knew better than to assume. She had no idea what she looked like now, she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror since before she was captured. Still, if Sam still loved her, that would be enough for her.

Roxy reminisced about a day they spent together, just a few days before her kidnapping; their three month anniversary. It had been an amazing day through and through. Roxy picked Sam up from her house and they headed to the mall to pick up some things in preparation for Roxy’s birthday, as well as just to do something fun together. They explored all of the different stores, had an unhealthy lunch from the food court, and almost got caught making out in the dressing rooms on a few separate occasions. Roxy didn’t think she could be blamed for that, though. Sam in a swimsuit was not a sight she’d ever seen before, but it was one she was sure she wouldn’t be forgetting any time soon.

After their shopping spree was done, they headed back to Roxy’s house. It was rare for them to spend a lot of time there due to Martha, but neither of her parents were home that day, so she was eager to take up the opportunity. They put on a little over-dramatic fashion show for each other, trying on all of the clothes they bought in increasingly hilarious and nonsensical combinations. Once they’d both recovered from their fits of laughter, they went downstairs to watch a movie. Die Hard had always been one of Roxy’s favourites, and Sam seemed to enjoy it just as much. Once the credits were rolling, Sam tried to scoop Roxy up so they could head back to her room for some much needed ‘alone time,’ but Roxy stopped her.

“Hold up, Sam,” Roxy said.

Sam stopped in her tracks halfway across the living room. “Hm? What’s up? You wanna stay down here?”

Roxy snorted at the thought. “Now there’s a bad idea. No, I was actually just curious about something.”

Sam gently placed her back on her feet. “What’s up?”

Roxy didn’t reply, looking Sam up and down and trying to figure out the logistics of what she was about to attempt. “Could you go and sit back down on the couch for me?”

Sam smirked curiously but did as she was told. Once she was sitting down, Roxy moved in close to her and slipped her hands underneath Sam’s thighs. Sam seemed to understand what she was trying to do and wrapped her arms around Roxy’s neck, pulling her weight in close. “Uh, Roxy? Are you sure this is a good-”

With a heaving grunt, Roxy shifted her weight and lifted with her knees. Sure enough, her hunch was right. Sam squeaked and held onto her tightly as Roxy lifted her up off of the couch. She could actually carry her! It wasn’t even that hard! Roxy laughed as success and pride filled her body. Sam clearly wasn’t used to the sensation of being carried, as she was nervously clinging to the back of Roxy’s shirt with her claws.

“Holy shit, Roxy! Y-you actually did it! You’re doing it!”

Roxy smiled widely and leaned back from Sam’s stomach, looking up at the other girl’s face. She was bright red, a look of utter amazement in her scarlet eyes. Roxy laughed again. “How does it feel to be the one being carried for a change?”

Sam blinked. “I have never been more attracted to someone in my life.”

Roxy raised an eyebrow. “Prove it.”

Sam smirked back, the hungry look in her eyes reverberating through Roxy’s body. “Take me up to your bedroom and maybe I will.”

Roxy wasted no time in that endeavour. She threw Sam down onto her bed and, making sure that she’d locked the door this time, climbed on top of her and got to work.

Back in the present, Roxy smiled gently at the memory. Memories were all she had to keep her going in her dark little box. Thinking about her situation always led to depressing thoughts, so it was better to fill her mind with happier times, and pretend she was still living them out. That day truly had been perfect, not even marred by her dad coming home earlier than expected and knocking on her bedroom door in the middle of their fun to ask what she wanted for dinner. Roxy’s mouth had been too full of a different kind of dinner to give him a proper answer, which led to a bit of an awkward situation when they had to come downstairs later, but it was still a happy memory, regardless. Roxy would take hundreds of awkward situations over her current reality, no hesitation. She hoped that, one day, once she was out of this shitty cell and all of her wounds had closed up, she would get to experience something like that again. Some dumb, awkward moment that they’d all be able to laugh about later. If Leif ever found out about it, it would probably be immortalised by her constant teasing. Roxy would complain about it, but she wouldn’t really mind deep down. She smiled at the thought of her friend, even as her heart ached with longing to see her again, and finally drifted off to sleep.

—

9 days after the kidnapping of Roxanne Kindley

9:01 am

Brooke sat on the couch, eating her breakfast and watching the news. As seemed to be the norm these days, it was another update about the search for Roxy. The van used in the crime had been found, but it had been scrubbed clean of any potential biological evidence and left in an empty parking lot, so it was practically useless. A lot of people were ruling it as a hate crime, given that evidence of Roxy’s condition had allegedly been sent to Sam, and Brooke couldn’t really blame them for thinking like that. From an outside perspective, it probably did seem like a reasonable motive for her kidnapping, but Brooke knew that the truth was far more complex. This was for Roxy’s own good. Sam was a werewolf and a murderer, and the quicker they could break the brainwashing that she’d inflicted upon Roxy, the better.

A slight twinge of uncertainty wavered at the back of Brooke’s mind. It had been there for a while now, sitting at the edge of her thoughts, slowly becoming harder and harder to ignore as time went on and the days ticked by. What did the news mean by ‘Roxy’s condition?’ It was never elaborated upon, which made her wonder. If she was fine, wouldn’t they report that? Brooke hadn’t been allowed to join her father at the outpost since the kidnapping took place, so she had no real way of knowing how Roxy was doing, which made her a little uncomfortable. She would’ve thought that a friendly face might be helpful for her rehabilitation, but her dad knew best, so she just tried to ignore the nagging in her gut.

She also wondered why Roxy was taken in such an aggressive way. She understood that, given Sam’s brainwashing, it was likely that Roxy had a negative view of the Sons, so it might have been necessary to apply a little bit of force to get her to the outpost. Still, because of their actions, the entire country was up in arms looking for her. Surely it would’ve been better to do it subtly and have it be nothing more than a missing person’s case for a few weeks? That way, once the brainwashing was reversed, Roxy could be handed back to her family with no one the wiser. With the way that things were, Brooke wasn’t sure she could see a way of Roxy going back to her family any time soon. Too many questions would be asked, people would still be searching for a culprit. That constant uncertainty continued to churn through her. Why couldn’t she just go and see how Roxy was?

She’d been watching all of the news reports about her. She’d seen all of the interviews with her mom, her dad, the detective leading the investigation. There was a little piece done a few days ago where all of Roxy’s friends gave these heartwarming little speeches about her. Sam had appeared briefly, looking haggard and unwell, as well as Leif. Brooke sighed. Leif still hadn’t really spoken to her since their argument last week. As far as she knew, the girl was still with Sam. Brooke really hoped she wasn’t brainwashed as well. Just how many people did Sam have a hold on?

It still spun her out to think about Sam being this evil, manipulative killer. She’d known the girl since primary school and, sure, she was a bit weird sometimes, but she never would have expected something like that. Sam always seemed to be this super caring, super protective person, but she wasn’t even a person in the first place. Brooke wondered if she was abusing Roxy. If she was evil, it would make sense, right? Still, Roxy always seemed happy around Sam. That was probably just the brainwashing, though. It still confused her as to why Sam would brainwash people in the first place. She’d always thought that werewolves were only interested in luring people in as a way to kill them and eat them. Roxy and Sam had been together for three months. Why wasn’t Sam just finishing the job? Maybe she didn’t know as much about werewolves as she thought. Roxy probably knew a lot, considering how much time she’d spent around one. Maybe Brooke could ask her about it once her brainwashing was cured.

She just wished she had some idea of how she was doing. Roxy had probably been really scared when she’d first been taken, and the knowledge that it was mostly her doing was really starting to eat at Brooke. She didn’t know how far along her cure was, but surely it wouldn’t hurt to just go and see how she was? Just a little peek to ease her curiosity, maybe talk to her a little bit as well. If she was doing good, maybe Brooke would be able to convince Leif to come along, too? It would no doubt make her feel a lot better to know where her best friend was. But… her dad forbade her from going to the outpost. She couldn’t disobey her father. He was home today, anyway, so he would notice if she went anywhere. He was heading to the outpost tomorrow, though. If she was lucky, and he happened to stay in his office the whole time, she could probably have a look around without him knowing, so long as no one reported her presence to him. If she got caught, she was sure to be severely punished. It had been a long time since her dad had pulled out the belt, but she still remembered its sting like it was yesterday, and she wasn’t eager to experience it again.

Would it be worth it to go and see how Roxy was doing? Would satisfying her curiosity and concern be worth potentially being beaten? She could handle it if it came to that. She was strong and disciplined, and she would take her punishment without complaint. What she couldn’t take was the uncertainty constantly swimming through her body and soul. Her girlfriend was suffering because of it. Roxy’s parents were suffering because of it. Brooke was the only one in a position to go and see if everything was alright. Wasn’t it her duty to go and make sure it was? Her responsibility? Being an outpost head came with many responsibilities, wasn’t this just an extension of that? An extension of her training? So what if her dad found out? It was her duty to those around her to do what she could to help.

And besides, what her dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt him anyway, right?