Page 14 of Ruined Wolfsbane

I don’t have time to contemplate the sheer stupidity of not being vigilant before a large hand shoves hard on my shoulder.

As I fall backward, it feels like everything’s happening in slow motion. It seems to take forever for my tailbone to smack against the white marble of the foyer. My shoulders thump against the ground next, and my head finally hits the floor with a sickening crack.

The pain makes my vision blurry as I stare dazedly at the two mahogany curved staircases. The intricate scrollwork on the banisters seems to dance the longer I stare at it.

“Watch where you’re going, you stupid bitch!” At his caustic words, I shift my unfocused gaze to my stepfather, Patrick Wynfield.

With his neatly styled brown hair peppered with gray at the temples, six-foot height, and trim physique, he’s handsome—or he would be if you could ignore the cold cruelty in his empty brown eyes.

I must take too long to reply.

“Get out of my sight!” Patrick roars, spittle flying everywhere.

I scramble up as fast as my foggy mind will allow me. I use the sleeve of my school blazer to wipe up the crimson blood sparkling against the marble. The only thing Patrick hates more than my presence is when I leave a mess.

I jog up the staircase and take a left at the top. With the way the world is spinning, it’s not the pain making my vision blurry. It’s a concussion. I’ve been concussed enough times to know the signs.

Stumbling toward my room, I let out a sigh of relief once I’m behind my door. I slide down the white door to land on the plush, beige carpet. The light blue walls of my room are moving like ocean waves, so I shut my eyes before I throw up.

Careful not to lean my injured head against the door, I take a few deep breaths to calm my stomach. My head hurts like a bitch, and the pounding in the back of my skull is spreading. My entire head feels like it’s getting attacked with a hammer.

I sit on the floor with my legs hugged to my chest until I don’t feel like my lunch is going to come back up. Once I can move again, I make my way to my whitewashed desk. I carefully slip off my satchel before glancing at the clock on my desk.

Shit. It’s almost six. I’ve been sitting on the floor zoned out for an hour and a half. I quickly check my reflection in my phone camera to make sure I didn’t get blood on anything other than my blazer sleeve. When I’m sure I look presentable, I call Ava.

I try my best to listen to her excited ramblings about her school, horse, and plans for the week past the pounding in my head. Ava doesn’t know her dad likes to knock me around. I plan to keep it that way until we can leave this godforsaken town. While he’s never hurt Ava, I’m still relieved to have her safe at boarding school.

Patrick allowed Ava to go to a boarding school as long as I attend Wolves Hollow University. My dreams of leaving this place for college are crushed, but all that matters is that she’s safe.

“Are you okay, Rosie?” Ava’s question snaps me out of my wandering thoughts. I guess I haven’t been hiding my concussion as well as I thought.

“I’m good, Aves. I just have a headache.” It’s not technically a lie, just an omission. I don’t want her to worry.

“Rosie! You should have told me! I wouldn’t have talked for so long if I knew you weren’t feeling well.”

“I’m really A-OK, Bun Bun.”

She eyes me skeptically. I don’t blame her. I probably look like death warmed over after bleeding everywhere from my head wound. “If you say so. I have to go anyway. Feel better, Rosie. I love you.”

“Love you too, Ava.”

After hanging up with Ava, I briefly debate going downstairs to grab dinner. I don’t know if Patrick’s home. Groaning, I know I can’t take another hit tonight. I’ll have to skip dinner. Luckily, I have an emergency stash of protein bars in my room for times just like this. I greedily inhale three double chocolate protein bars. They taste like ash, but I need to fuel to heal.

Along with needing to eat so much, I also heal much faster than normal. If I eat enough, I can heal broken bones in a week, instead of one to two months. I have no idea why I heal so fast, but I’m grateful for it with the frequent beatings from Patrick. I don’t know if I’d still be alive today if I didn’t have super healing.

Shoving that morbid thought out of my head, I toe off my Converse and climb into my bed. The natural white oak four-poster bed provides an illusion of safety with the gauzy wraparound curtains. I don’t have the energy to strip off my clothes or climb under the sky blue comforter. As soon as I’m settled on my stomach, I succumb to a dreamless sleep.

CHAPTER 8

BRIAR

At a blaring beeping sound, I startle awake. Groggily, I reach over and grab my phone. While I’m usually a morning person, today I feel like I could sleep in another few hours.

As I sit up, I notice I’m still fully dressed. After a moment of confusion, last night comes rushing back to me. Thanks to sleeping almost twelve hours, my vision is no longer blurry. I still have one hell of a headache, though. Today’s class and my meeting with Malachi Grimm are going to suck.

When I reach up to touch the back of my head, I encounter a chunk of hair matted with blood.

Gross.

---