Page 3 of Forever Mine

I had fallen asleep in the car. We were heading down to San Francisco. Jacob had a medical conference and I thought it would be fun for me and Oscar to explore the city. Out of fear I had chosen to homeschool him, but I often worried my son needed more than one-on-one time with his high school dropout mother every day. Sure, he was a great kid; I couldn't be prouder of him, but when the occasion presented itself, I tried to step out of my comfort zone and do what was best for him. He was so excited about the trip that even when my anxiety started to set in two days earlier, I just couldn't disappoint him.

Annie had given me a sedative of some sort for the ride, and for that I was grateful. It made things easier when traveling. I didn't do well in crowds. Not since the night it all happened.

I was sixteen years old. My best friend Jordan and I had gotten tickets to this concert for some big, popular boy band. They were great seats and we were so excited—so much so that I hadn't been able to concentrate on my chemistry test that day and though I tried to hide the resulting F from my dad, it had all snowballed on me and I'd been grounded.

Grounded? On the biggest day of my life? That was never going to fly. I snuck out and Jordan and I went anyway. The concert was really good, and some college boys near us had offered us some beer. I wasn't big on drinking, but they were college guys. I wasn't going to look like a baby and turn that down. Jordan had, and she'd gotten pissed when I hadn't. Just before intermission she had stormed out. I shrugged it off as no big deal and didn't go after her.

One of the guys started dancing really close to me and it made me feel a little uneasy. He didn't know I was a wolf shifter and could have snapped his neck in two with one snap of my jaws. I remembered giggling just thinking it. Of course, I was only sixteen. My wolf hadn't emerged yet, but the signs were there that she would soon. Most shifters didn't change till sometime between eighteen and twenty-one. My mom always said I'd be an early shifter. I was very excited about it and couldn't wait for my wolf to show.

By intermission I'd had five beers and the room was spinning. I was upset with Jordan for not joining me, but I was having the time of my life. Six college guys and all their focus was on me. They told me they had a club box upstairs and invited me to join them. Hell, yes. I was ready to party!

The small room was so cool. My dad was our Pack Alpha, so I was used to luxuries other shifters weren't, but this was just awesome. It was entirely soundproof. There was a private balcony of seats you could sit on for the concert, and if you opened the door you could hear the loud squeals and cheers as the band took the stage again. I opened the door and closed it three times, reveling in the noise to total quiet. The guys were fun and joined in with my excitement. One flicked on a button that suddenly had the concert mic'd into the room. We danced and sang along. It was the best night of my life—and then it wasn't.

I don't remember any of their names. Only in my nightmares can I even remember the vaguest details of them. I was so drunk, and then the room started spinning out of control as we danced and my body went limp. Someone caught me before my head hit the floor. I couldn't move. It was like I was paralyzed.

“How much of that shit did you give her?” I remember one of them asking.

“Enough,” someone else responded, laughing.

“I want her first.”

I could move my eyes frantically, but for some reason I couldn't make a sound, and no matter how hard I fought with my own body, it wouldn't respond. I could hear them and see them, though. Stuck in that awful state of awareness I watched and listened as they each in turn beat and raped me to within an inch of my life, as they cheered each other on. A heightened state of awareness allowed me to feel every second of it, too. At some point I had blissfully blacked out, only to awaken two days later stuffed in a bag in a dumpster behind the coliseum.

A homeless man had found me and I was rushed to the hospital. I was too embarrassed to tell them my name. Annie Winthrop was my legally assigned, state-appointed guardian while they sorted it all out. I wouldn't talk to her or anyone. They listed me as Jane Doe and I kept the name Jane as the years went by. I was broken beyond repair and somehow, I knew that my wolf had died that day, too.

I was assigned to a girls’ home, but continued to meet with Annie three times a week after they released me from the hospital. From the medical reports they had a pretty clear picture of what happened to me, but I never once told anyone, not even her.

The girls’ home was hard. The others could be downright cruel, but by then I was so withdrawn and depressed that I just didn't care. There was no life left in me. They had destroyed me. Twice I was put on suicide watch, and for good reason.

Six weeks after being released from the hospital I had withdrawn to the point I wouldn't eat, and when they forced me, I'd just throw it up. Annie had fought for me. She begged me to live. She begged me to talk about it. I didn't want to do either. Then it was confirmed. I was pregnant.

Sixteen. Pregnant by a vicious gang rape. I couldn't go home. There was no way I could ever face my family again. The thought of a lifetime of grounding wasn't what scared me. I would be an embarrassment, a failure, the joke of the entire pack, and I could never do that to my parents, or my brother and sisters. My scandalous behavior would not destroy them as it had me.

Annie and her husband Jacob took me in after the pregnancy was confirmed. They were granted permanent guardianship of me and the baby until I turned eighteen. I didn't want a baby. I didn't want a constant reminder of what had happened to me. I would never even know who the actual father was. It was too much for one small girl to handle.

Annie sat me down one day and told me, “Jane, stop sitting around feeling sorry for yourself. I know whatever happened to you was horrific, but that child you are carrying cannot be blamed for it. You have to eat to be strong for him. You have to sleep so he'll rest, too. You have to get up and start living again, for him. God doesn't make mistakes with babies, but we humans can. You are going to be a mother for a reason, child, now get up and start acting like it.”

I hadn't spoken in days. My throat burned when I finally asked, “How do you know it's a boy?”

She had smiled back at me like she had all the secrets of the world. “I don't, but there's a fifty-fifty chance I'm right.”

Six months later, making an appearance a little early at a whopping four pounds ten ounces, Oscar Jacob Winthrop was born. I had come back to life, for him. I had survived, for him. Seeing his little body stuck in the NICU those first few days had suddenly been the worst and hardest moments of my life as I watched my tiny newborn fight to survive. Not the rape. Not giving up everyone and everything I had ever known. Not a teenage pregnancy. Not even losing my wolf. That helpless feeling of watching my child struggle, knowing there was nothing I could do, that was the hardest thing I have ever been through.

I turned eighteen shortly after Oscar's first birthday and I prepared myself to leave the Winthrops and set off on my own course in life, but they had other plans in store for us. They had opened their home, their lives, and their hearts to me and Oscar, and we would forever be grateful. They were our family.

Six years later, I still struggled with anxiety. Annie, who specialized in child psychology, attributed it to post-traumatic stress syndrome. She never pushed me to talk about what happened, but has been instrumental in helping me with coping mechanisms. For the most part now, I'm fine, but changes in life, even little ones like a trip to the big city, are difficult struggles I push through for Oscar's sake.

He's a great kid. Super smart, serious, but very laid back, calm. He soothes me in a way I can't fully articulate. I honestly do not believe I'd still be alive today if it weren't for him.

Waking up groggy, I knew I shouldn't have fallen asleep in the car. I mean, I was grateful for the sedatives Annie gave me, but when I did finally wake after the usual flood of memories that haunted me, Oscar wasn't there. I still relied on smells more than a normal human. It's sort of a wolf thing and even though my wolf had never surfaced and I no longer felt the connection to her that had been starting to form before the rape, there were certain attributes, like smell, that I had never been able to fully stop.

One sniff of the air around me and I knew we were far from home, but not yet in the city. There were too many unfamiliar smells, and I knew before my eyes opened that Oscar was nowhere around. That set my anxiety on high alert and I started to go into a panic.

I jumped from the car and searching around frantically, I was surrounded by a much too familiar scent. Wolves. Where were we? I quickly checked around the area and I knew we must be in or near Westin Pack territory. I had grown up attending summer camp every year with Lily Westin and her siblings. We had been practically inseparable. I knew it was a long shot, but someone could recognize me. I had changed so much, but it wasn't a risk I was willing to take either. By now I knew my family would have celebrated my death, made their peace, and moved on. I wouldn't give them false hope that I was still alive, because the Madelyn Collier they knew wasn't. Jane Winthrop wasn't that same girl.

I spotted Annie sitting on a bench outside a restaurant we had stopped at. I didn't have to say a word; it was like she knew I was freaking out before I even reached her and she immediately began soothing me with confident, safe words. Sometimes Annie just seemed to have a way of knowing things she couldn't possibly know.

“Jane, honey, you're safe. I promise. We're not going to let anything happen to you.”

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