♡♡♡

"Wait, what the fuck is that?" Cole asks, grabbing my wrist to look at my wristband more closely.

"Is that a phone number?" His fire eyes are burning with a wild, angry flame. "Did that fuckface at the ticket booth write this on there? Why didn't you tell us?"

Right now, we're at home, resting on the couch after a long day at the fair. I had so much fun, and it doesn't at all have to do with what happend on the Ferris Wheel. Nope. Not at all.

Though my blush doesn't seem to pick up on the sarcasm, tinting my cheeks pink. I'd been sitting on Xavier's lap at one end of the large couch, Coco and Ash next to him with my legs resting across both of theirs. Xavier was playing with my hair while we watched TV, Ashton was rubbing my feet, and Cole was holding my hand, gently caressing the back of it with the pad of his thumb.

That is, until he looked down at the wristband I'd been wearing since the fair, refusing to take it off because it reminded me of how amazing today was.

Xavier and Ash's attentions snap to where Coco's gaze rests on, their faces growing hot with anger much faster than I could've anticipated.

"Avelyn, why the hell didn't you tell us that guy wrote his number on your bracelet?" Xavier's tone is clipped, the anger rolling off of it like a second language.

"Because," I sighed. "I knew you guys would get jealous. It's not a big deal. It wasn't like I was planning on calling the guy," I grumble. While their jealously is very much amusing and kind of hot, I don't want this to turn into a useless argument.

"What if that girl wrote her number on our wristbands?" Ash asks with a smirk evident in his tone, and I turn to glare at him on the other end of the couch.

'So close, but so far away. He's lucky I'm comfortable right now, or I'd probably get up to smack him.'

"I'd probably kick her in her lady bits," I answer completely seriously. But they seem to think what I just said was a joke, laughing at my answer.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" I question, lifting up the hand that Cole wasn't playing with and releasing some of my gold magic in the form of a golden spark. Their eyes instantly dart straight to my hand and Ashton's eyes light up with mischief, but there's also a slight glimmer of arrogance in his crystal blue eyes as he takes in the golden spark.

"And what exactly are you supposed to do with that?" His question pisses me off even more, so I don't hesitate to show him exactly what I planned to do with it.

I flick my wrist to send the golden flare towards him, and it lands on his shoulder. He immediately jolts off of his spot on the couch, rubbing his arm with a vigorous intensity.

"What the fuck, Avelyn! That shit really hurt!" He glowers at me.

I shrug in nonchalance, leaning back into Xavier's chest as the other two boys laugh at Ashton's expense. "You asked what I was gonna do with it, so I decided to show you. Besides, you shouldn't be such a baby. I barely even zapped you. Believe me, it could've been much worse, so you should think before you speak next time."

"Whatever," he mutters, but stops his pouting when Cole suddenly asks a question I was definitely not expecting.

"I wanna see your wings," he announces, making me jerk back in surprise, a voice worming it's way into my head.

"I wanna see your wings," she sneers from above me as I'm curled up on the floor beneath her, writhing in my own skin.

"W-what?" I ask, still unbelieving with the words that just escaped his mouth, shaking my head in an attempt to rid myself if the memories--to rid myself of her voice.

"I wanna see your wings," he shrugs casually. "Actaully, I've been wanting to for a while. You've never shown them before, and I thought about it after... y'know... you were taken. And once we got back, it was just never the right time to ask."

I clear my throat, readying myself for my next words. "I actaully, um, haven't used them or even seen them since I was about fifteen," I admit.

"You heard me, you freak! Show me your wings!" She screams.

Ashton, now seeming to have lost all of his anger toward me, raises his brows in confusion. "Why?"

I cringe once again at the memory, not able to control myself as it flashes before my eyes like a movie. It was one of the worst punishments I'd ever received from my parents. Mother asked--more like demanded--I make her some tea, so I did. I went to the kitchen, put a kettle on the stove, and made her some hot tea--just how she liked it. She was already in a bad mood that day, but it was only amplified by my mistake. My huge, terrible, pain-inducing mistake.

While I was reaching over her bed to hand her the teacup, filled to the brink with very hot liquid, my foot got caught on the rug by her bed, making me slip and spill the piping hot tea all over her.

"You bitch!" She screamed at me. "You did this on purpose you little whore!"

"I-I'm s-s-sorry!" I rushed out, trying to save myself from my horrid mistake, to no avail. "I-I didn't mean to! I p-p-promise!"

She sneered below me, not caring for my useless attempts at redeeming myself.

'Oh God. I'm dead. I'm so dead!'

She's going to kill me.

And this time I really do deserve my punishment.

'I'm such a fuck up.'

Her hand suddenly whipped out, latching onto my hair with a great amount of strength and shoving me away. For a moment, I stumble, trying to regain my balance from my abruptly lost footing.

She stands swiftly, stepping away from the bed and glaring down at me. If looks could kill, I'd be six feet under right about now.

And what would my tombstone say?

"Freak."

"Abomination."

"Monster."

"Unloved by many, and unwanted by all. Her only purpose was to serve her Given--a group of wolves that would never even know of her existence. She died the moment she was born. For that was the very moment her soul was taken from her--leaving her nothing but a shell of a once-living little girl."

I think it's safe to say that I'm royally screwed.

"Come with me," she seethes, not giving me a chance to reply before she's grabbing me by my silver hair again and dragging me down the stairs. She ignores my apologies, she ignores my cries of anguish, and she ignores my pleas for mercy.

She ignores me until we've reached the basement littered with tools of torture and pain.

"N-no! Please! I'm so sorry! It won't happen again; I promise!"

Again... she ignores me.

She doesn't speak a word as she drags me over to the middle of the room, shoving me down onto the floor. I fall onto the floor in a heap of a broken girl lacking a soul, curling into myself in an attempt to shield myself away from reality.

This isn't a dream.

This isn't a nightmare.

This is reality.

My shitty reality that I never asked for.

I didn't ask to be a freak. I didn't ask to be a monster, but I don't regret the day I got my powers, the day I got my wings. Because that was the day I got my Given. That was the day I finally received a purpose.

"I wanna see your wings," she sneers from above me as I'm curled up on the floor beneath her, writhing in my own skin.

"W-what?" I ask, unbelieving at her question.

'Why would she want to see my wings?'

"You heard me, you freak! Show me your wings!" She screams.

I suck in a sharp breath and cast my gaze back down to the floor, away from her disdainful, furious glare.

"P-please, I can't do that. I-it hurts," I plea, remembering just how much pain it brought me last time to let them free. I suppose it wouldn't be so bad if I did it more often, but I don't. So it hurts. Like hell.

"Do you think I give a shit? You're a monster. Monster's deserve pain. Now, show me your damn wings, whore!"

With a light yelp at her harsh words, I cringe, bracing myself for the pain I'm about to feel. I close my eyes, feeling for the wings that lie beneath my scarred skin, silently calling them out, beckoning them to the surface.

And just like that, I feel the loosely familiar sting on my shoulder blades, the feeling comparable to two poison-soked knives plunging into my back. I scream into my hand, trying to suffer in silence.

I don't want her to hear me scream.

I may beg. I may plead. I may cry. But I will not allow her to hear me scream.

That means she's won.

And I'm so sick and tired of losing all the damn time.

She walks all over me all the time, torturing me for her own amusement. They both do--my parents. And I'm so tired of always being used as a stepping stool for their own pleasure. They love seeing me in pain. They love seeing me grovel. They love hearing me scream.

But they don't love me.

Why can't they just love me?

I know I'm a monster, but I'm their child. Aren't parents supposed to love their children? It's not like I'd ever know the answer to that question.

The pain finally subsides, and I feel the pressure in my shoulder blades, the vaguely familiar wings sprouting from my back.

I hear Mother gasp above me, stumbling back for a moment, baffled by my monstrous being, but I'm too worn out right now to see her reaction. That took everything out of me, using up all of my energy and draining it.

"Y-you really are an abomination," she breathes out. And faintly, very very faintly, I hear her mutter something along the lines of, "Why didn't we take a normal child?"

But her words make no sense to me, and if I'm being honest, I'm not even sure I heard her right. It's the exhaustion that's making me hear things. I whimper quietly to myself.

I'm so tired.

"Up," she demands, but I'm unable to do as she says, having literally no energy left in me. "I said up!" She screeches as she grabs me by one of my wings, pulling me up forcefully. They're very sensitive, and it makes the pain so much worse.

It's excruciating.

I mewl quietly--pathetically--not having the energy to do much else at the moment. But damn it, the way she's pulling on my wing hurts like hell.

"Look at me, slut!" She sneers, but once she realizes I can't, she grabs a hold of my chin with a harsh grip, lifting my head up to meet her murderous gaze.

When my pain-filled ocean eyes meet her hollow brown ones, I see the sheer disgust she has for me. I gag silently when she spits on my face, it running thickly down my beaten flesh.

"You're nothing but a freak. No one will ever want you. No one will ever love you. You'll die alone, unloved, and cold," she ridicules, shoving me back onto the floor.

This time, I don't even flinch at her words or the way the cold concrete meets my battered skin and feathery wings. I don't make a sound as she kicks my wings as hard as she can, over and over and over... I don't move an inch or utter a word when she finally leaves, stomping up the basement stairs and slamming the door shut; leaving me alone, unloved, and cold--just like she said.

I don't make a sound because she's right, and I know it.

No one has ever loved me, and they never will.

"Avelyn!" A distant voice cries.

"Avelyn, princess! Come back to me!" Another one tries, but to no avail.

All I can see right now is her face, scowling down at me.

All I can hear are her words: "You're nothing but a freak. No one will ever want you. No one will ever love you. You'll die alone, unloved, and cold."

All I can feel is the stinging of the poison-laced knives stabbing me in the back. And someone shaking me.

Wait...

Someone shaking me?

"Aveylen, come back to me. Please, babygirl. Come back to us," a voice full of sorrow pleads.

I remember when I did that--plead.

I would plead for forgiveness. I would plead for mercy. I would beg pitifully for it.

But I would be ignored.

"No one will ever want you."

Yes they will. Someone will want me; I know it.

"Avelyn, you need to wake up. Snap out of it!"

"No one will ever love you."

Yes they will! Someone will love me! Right?

"Kitten," a soft voice cracks.

Wait. I know that voice. I know all of those voices.

"You'll die alone."

"Cole?" My voice shakes, unsure if I'm hearing things or not. My vision starts to blur, shifting in and out of reality, shifting from what's false into what is real.

But... I don't know what's real anymore.

"Yes, kitten. It's me." His face is hazy, an unclear picture of, what I believe to be, my reality.

This is real. He is real. They are real.

"Unloved," her voice whispers in my ear.

"No," I whimper, even though I know she's not there. At least, I think she isn't there. "I am loved. They love me," I whimper.

"Ava, baby. What are you talking about?" Ashton's voice is filled with worry and uncertainty. It's at this moment, my vision clears and all that's left is them.

My Given.

My purpose.

I'm still on Xavier's lap as he looks down at me with great sadness. Cole is still right next to him, leaning in to see me better, and Ashton is kneeling on the floor right next to me. They all look so broken.

"Cold."

I'm not cold, not with the heat radiating off of these boys.

I look at all of them, seeing each of their tear-stained cheeks. And I can't help but ask the only question that can heal me, the only thing I need to hear to possibly fix my insecurities.

"Do you love me?"

______________________________________

Like I said, this chapter was sad. Sorry if you were expecting something fun and happy. This ain't it, sis. I just wanted to clear up why she hasn't used her wings. I hadn't realized that I forgot to clear that up before, but I did now. So... I hope you enjoyed the chapter?

And just in case anyone noticed, I updated the book cover. I happen to like the new one much better. But anyway, as always, until next time...

Sincerely,

The Annoying Author Lady