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Chapter 21: Time and Trauma.

Kate's P.O.V.

The next three days were the longest days of my life, and, honestly

there aren't even words to describe what happened. Believe me, I've

tried to put the events that transpired over those three days to tongue,

but there are some things that are just beyond words, and I gave up

trying to make sense of it all years ago. All I know is that somehow,

some way, my husband defied the odds, cheated death, annnnnnnddddd

discovered that Flint's suicide was only one of many scars that my time

in A-School scourged upon my soul. With time, it's gotten a bit easier

to talk about what happened to me, but there's really only so much that

time can do for a wound like this. So I apologize in advance if this

becomes too much for me and I end up faltering, okay?

Okay... So...

Truth is, I had another friend in A-School. I was vaguely familiar with

Daniel before he and I shipped out to Pointe West. We had crossed paths

a time or two, and he was nice enough, but he was always a bit of an odd

duck, so we didn't ever really connect. However, when he was outed as

gay during Zero Week, that all changed. Contrary to what many may

believe, I struggled in A-School. In spite of my bloodline and in spite

of the countless hours that I trained, I avoided washing back or washing

out by the skin of my teeth more times than I'd like to admit. As I'm

sure you're aware, kids can be quite cruel and they love to prey upon

the weak. To them, I was a pathetic washout, and Danny, well...

Danny faced unrelenting hate and discrimination from the other students

as soon as his secret was revealed, so he and I quickly became the black

sheep in our class. The other students either shunned or bullied us on

the daily, and Flint, being the friend that he was, would defend us

every chance he got. This, of course, caused them to turn on him as well

and it wasn't long before we three were all each other had. I know it

sounds lonely, but honestly, we lived for it. Our shared ostracism bound

us together. We wore it like a badge of honor, and before long, we had

grown closer than any group of friends I had ever seen. When our trio so

suddenly and so tragically became a duo, Danny was my rock. He held my

paw at Flint's funeral. He was the only living soul to ever see me break

down. I trusted him more than I ever trusted anyone before, but it is

because of him that I will never be able to fully trust anybody ever again.

Danny was my best friend. I used to tell him all the time that if he

wasn't gay, I'd marry him. He would laugh his stupid, boyish laugh and

shoot me that goofy, crooked grin of his.

"Marry me anyway," he'd jest, "nothing says we gotta fuck."

"No offense, Danny," I'd reply with a roll of my eyes, "but ya girl

wants to get some dick at least once in her life."

"Dirty birdie," he'd tease.

And our conversations would go on like that. Fun, good natured back and

forths like that, but somehow we would always go back to the day that

they pulled Flint's body from the river and sadness would taint the air

between us. In these moments, the weight of the loss we shared would

begin to slowly crush me, but I knew that when things got too heavy for

me to carry, I could always find comfort in his soft, yellow eyes. Those

eyes that held me close and told me that everything would be okay. Those

eyes that prevented me from seeing the monster that hid beneath...

...

...

...

Excuse me.

Humphrey's P.O.V.

Ask me how I did it and I'll say that your guess is as good as mine. By

all accounts, I should be dead after what happened to me in A-School,

but somehow I survived and life went on. I won't say anything about what

happened to my mate. That's her story to tell if she even wishes to tell

it, but what I will say is that once those truths were brought to light,

a noticeable tension began to form between us. I couldn't even begin to

tell you why. It's not like a blamed her for what happened to her or

what she did as a result. She didn't ask for it to happen to her, and

the guy had it coming, but for some reason, seeing the darker side of my

mate's past made me deeply uncomfortable. If I had to take a guess, I'd

say it's because in that moment, I realized just how little I actually

knew her.

I grew up with her, I pined for her, I married her, and we shared some

of our most intimate secrets with each other. I thought I knew

everything there was to know about her, but that clearly wasn't the

case. Though I guess I couldn't hold it against her. There are worlds

inside of me that she has still never seen, and that she never will see.

Honestly, that makes me wonder just how well she actually knew me. I

guess it's true what they say: "You never truly know a person, only what

they show you", and honestly, I didn't want to know. Now that those

skeletons had been dug up, I shared in her pain. Ordinarily that would

be a good thing, but with how she handled trauma, I felt so helpless. I

knew that deep down she was suffering, and there was nothing I could do.

She insisted on carrying it alone, so all I could do was sit and watch.

I used to wonder if I should just break down and tell her the secrets

that brought me to her doorstep that fateful night, but once I saw her

ugly side, I realized just how lucky she was that she never had to see

mine. She didn't have to endure the disenchantment and the mounting

frustrations that I did. In her mind, she knew me and it was honestly

best for both of us to keep it that way.

Kate's P.O.V.

I'm sorry about earlier. I guess that wound hasn't healed quite as much

as I thought it had...

...

...

Anyway, as I was saying earlier: Danny was my best friend. I loved him,

but I pretty quickly discovered that what I thought was a beautiful,

poignant friendship was nothing more than an insidious scheme. First of

all, Danny wasn't gay. He deliberately planted that rumor amongst the

students so they would target him and he allowed himself to be

brutalized by the other pups. He assumed a life of misery so he could

get close to me and pose as my friend. He used Flint's suicide as a tool

to make me vulnerable around him, and then, as if all of that wasn't

enough, he raped me. Now, you might be asking yourself: "If he just

wanted to rape you, why would he go through so much trouble?"

Well, I'll tell you. It's because he was as smart as he was sick. You

see, Daniel was the type of guy who got his kicks from playing with

people's heads. He was handsome, charming, eloquently spoken, and he

always knew exactly how to get everything he wanted without consequence.

Personally, I admired that part of his personality and enjoyed watching

him spin various, tense situations to his favor. It allowed him to live

a life free of doubt, and I wished I could have what he had, but now

that I look back at it, I realize that he had me under his spell long

before Flint threw himself from the bluff. He made me believe that he

was my friend, that our bond was unlike any other, but in reality, he

had spent the entirety of A-School manipulating me into becoming

emotionally dependent upon him. He wanted me as his property and with

each interaction, I had unknowingly given small pieces of myself to him

until I was chained to him. Every day, I was at his mercy and I didn't

even realize it, but he made every single intention known the day that

he pinned me to the floor and took my innocence.

And what's worse? He had established enough of a reputation among the

students and instructors alike that if I tried to report him, nobody

would believe me. He literally rendered me powerless in every aspect of

my life, and he knew that he did, too. The next day, he acted as though

nothing ever happened, and once again under the spell of his silver

tongue, I believed that I had to do the same. Honestly, looking back at

it now, I can't believe that I was once so stupid, and, even though I

didn't ask for any of it to happen, I feel like Humphrey secretly

resented me for it.

Maybe I was reading too much into it all, but after he discovered

everything that had happened to me and saw what I did, he started

acting... weird. Even though the lead I got up north was not quite as

helpful as I'd hoped, we did start to make headway in the Elias

investigation, but Humphrey suddenly refused to talk about it. If I'm

honest, he barely spoke to me at all after it all happened and his

entire demeanor began to change. He became aloof, quiet, angry even.

Sometimes we would go days without speaking to one another, or even

really spending time together. Since he failed A-School, he was in a bit

of a temporary limbo while my dad tried to sort out what to do. He no

longer performed any of the alpha duties he'd previously been assigned,

and he no longer was my shadow. Then, with no more responsibilities to

keep him busy, he began to revert back to his previous lifestyle.

I went to work before he woke up in the morning, and he would stay out

all night drinking and doing whatever else with his friends, so by the

time he got home, I was already asleep. Or if on the rare occasion he

stayed out late enough to catch me on my way out in the morning, he

would be far too drunk or delirious to have any meaningful conversation.

I truly didn't know what to make of it. If it ever actually was me, he

never told me, and if it was what happened while he was under, he never

even mentioned it. Maybe it was a mixture of both, but come on...

I mean, even though I didn't ever see any of it, if Humphrey had to

relive his worst days while he was under like I did, then I'm sure he

had a laundry list of shit to deal with. So, in that sense, I could

understand wanting to numb himself, but in the process of numbing

himself, he phased me out. One day, I'll admit, I got fed up with it all

and that was when we had our second big fight.

Humphrey's P.O.V.

Looking back at it now, I can't believe how stupid we both were after

what happened in Pointe West. We both had to relive some serious

traumas, and rather than work through them and heal together, we

suffered apart. Kate buried herself in her work, and I burned the park

down every night with my friends. Kate and I barely saw each other

during those couple weeks after we returned, and if we did, I can't

really remember. That time in my life is a bit of a blur, but I do

remember the fight we had like it was yesterday.

Kate took two days of leave specifically to spend time with me, but for

whatever reason, I didn't want to spend time with her and, as I'm sure

you can imagine, she went absolutely ballistic. I mean, I can't say that

I blamed her, of course. I was completely in the wrong, but at that

time, my head was so clouded by everything that I was trying to deal

with that I couldn't see or care about anybody's needs but my own.

Completely blinded by rage, we argued and screamed at each other, called

each other names, even declared that we hated one another.

And then things got violent...

Kate's P.O.V.

I can't remember what Humphrey said that made me do it, but I remember

that at some point, I became so angry that I completely lost my head,

and that's when I hit him. My paw landed squarely upon the side of his

face and knocked him off balance, but before I could even process what

had just happened, he squared up and struck me back. That's when things

really got ugly. I leapt upon him and we rolled around on the ground:

snarling, snapping, slashing, tearing. Personally, once we were on the

ground, I thought for sure I could have him, but in the blinks between

our youth and that moment, I had forgotten how strong he was. I fought

valiantly to gain the upper hand as we so viciously snapped at each

other, but it wasn't long before he overpowered me and pinned me down by

the shoulders.

And after that, I don't know what the hell happened. One moment, he

towered over me and glared down at me with gnashed fangs and I returned

that hate-filled look in kind, but then in the next, we were lost in the

throes of passionate, angry sex. Our lips met in a heated, violent kiss,

and as we rolled together on the floor, our lust only continued to build

until we were both ablaze with raw, primal instinct. Like, I'm sorry to

be so crass, but when he climbed on my back that night, he fucked me

like he hated me, and I was in heaven. He took charge, pinned me to the

floor, and mercilessly dominated me from behind. Like, I'm talking paws

between my shoulders, biting my scruff and pounding me into the ground.

It awakened something in me, and it was then that I realized that this

was what I'd wanted from him all along. Sure, we had a few good moments

between our honeymoon and then, but as I said before: Most of the time

we fucked, it would inevitably leave me disappointed and I never quite

understood why. He did everything right- at least as right as he knew

how to do, but for whatever reason, it just wasn't ever enough to

satisfy me and it frustrated the hell out of me. That night, however, he

could do no wrong, and by the time it was all said and done, we were

both so satisfied and exhausted that we could barely move. So we simply

lied there on the floor, tail to tail with one another and breathed

heavily as we swam in the high that flooded our bodies.

Humphrey's P.O.V.

I can't even begin to describe the way I felt as I lied on the floor and

struggled to catch my breath. What we had just done was so ardent, so...

angry, and it awakened something inside of me that I had never felt

before. As I forced my mate's chest into the ground and rendered her

helpless against my desires, it all felt so wrong, but at the same time,

so right. I never thought I could bring myself to treat her like she was

my property, but in the heat of the moment, as she begged me to thrust

myself into her deeper, faster, to bite down on her neck until she bled,

I felt so... powerful. There was something about the idea of setting my

paws upon an alpha and making her nothing more than an object for my

pleasure that really turned me on, and as I stared down at her from my

position of dominance upon her hips, as I forced her chest into the

ground so I could take her as quickly and as deeply as I wanted, I

couldn't help but feel like that was how it was meant to be.

That kind of thought process obviously went against everything I had

been taught, but my mate liked it that way, and I got such a power high

from it that I never stopped to think about the damage I was doing to

her. I never considered just how toxic and deranged it was, given what

happened to her when she was young, or how those traumatic events may

have contributed to her insatiable desire to be defiled, abused and

subjugated by someone stronger than her. All I knew was it felt good,

and we finally connected sexually, the way I always hoped we would in my

many failed attempts to get her body in tune with mine, so I wasn't

about to stop. If extreme intercourse was what she wanted, then extreme

intercourse was what she got.

All it took was for us to continue to destroy our marriage one stupid

mistake and one petty fight at a time, because the angrier we were, the

more we despised each other, the better it was for us. Of course we

still loved each other, but we had lost ourselves so deeply in that

pernicious game of anger and spite that we lost sight of why we were

truly together. That all changed, however, when we received some rather

shocking news.