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CHAPTER EIGHT

Estella woke up slowly from her unconscious state and groaned in anguish as her lower body contracted in pain from the injuries all over her body. As consciousness gradually washed over her, she found herself trapped in a nightmarish realm of pain. Each labored breath she took now felt better than before, it had felt like a struggle against an invisible weight pressing down on her chest, and the air itself seemed thick with her suffering. Her groan was not just a sound but a raw expression of the anguish that had taken residence within her. It emanated from the depths of her soul, a primal cry of torment. It was as if her very existence had become entwined with the agony that now coursed through her. The pain in her lower body was a relentless, throbbing reminder of the injuries that marred her once-vibrant form. It felt as though a thousand shards of glass were embedded in her flesh, and every movement sent waves of searing torment radiating outward. Her limbs, once strong and capable, now felt like laden weights, dragging her further into the abyss of her suffering.

Estella's world had become a symphony of pain, each note playing a discordant tune that reverberated through her consciousness. In that moment, her emotions were a whirlwind of despair, fear, and a fierce determination to endure the unendurable. She had longed for relief, for the darkness to swallow her once more and grant her respite from this relentless agony. Yet, somewhere deep within her, a flicker of hope remained, a stubborn refusal to surrender to the darkness and it did, it brought her helper, the man whose face she is yet to remember. Looking around the room which was lack of sunlight due to the absence of a window, she could not find the man who had saved her nor any of the guards but an urge in her still screamed to her that it was just the beginning. Sound beside door made her look up to see three mice playing around the room happily making her remember when she and her parent would play around the house in happiness oblivious to the limited time they would spend together, even these mice have a better life than her right now and seems to wave it to her face how pathetic her live is

As she sat there, the cracks at the door seemed to symbolize the fractures in her own life, echoing with the emptiness that had settled within her since the death of her parents. Her eyes followed the playful mice as they scampered about the room, their carefree antics in stark contrast to the heavy burden of her memories. It was as if they danced through the ruins of her past, a past that had once been filled with joy and laughter ss the memories flooded her mind, like a bittersweet symphony playing in the recesses of her heart. She recalled the days when she and her parents would frolic around the house or when her father would shift to his wolf and take her on a rude to the woods as a father and a daughter, their laughter filling every corner, their happiness boundless. Back then, she had taken those moments for granted, believing that they would last forever. But life had other plans, and those days of innocence had slipped away like grains of sand through her fingers.

Now, as she watched the mice, it was as if they were mocking her with their unbridled glee. They seemed to revel in their freedom, reminding her of the cage rhey built around her. The rodents, with their tiny paws and twitching whiskers, had a life and a life untouched by sorrow and worry, a life she could only dream of now.

She couldn't help but feel a pang of envy, and a wave of self-pity washed over her. These mice, with their simple existence, were living a life more carefree and content than she could ever hope to achieve. Their tiny, oblivious world highlighted the stark contrast between her current reality and the distant memory of happiness.

In that moment, she the weight of her own choices, the decisions that had led her down a path of solitude and struggle. The mice, with their innocence and playfulness, served as a stark reminder of what she had lost and what she could never fully reclaim. It was as if they were taunting her, holding a mirror to her face, and forcing her to confront the harsh truth of her own existence.

Tears welled up in her eyes as she realized how far she had drifted from the carefree days of her childhood. The room seemed to close in on her, suffocating her with the weight of her regrets. She longed for the days when happiness was as simple as chasing mice around the house, but now, she was trapped in a reality that seemed devoid of such joys.

In that moment of reflection, she couldn't help but wonder if there was a way she had met her strange helper and how he had rescued you from the vicious guards. She stare around for anything that would give her an idea about where she is all to no avail. As she confines in her self-imposed prison and plans to her wolf about their missios, because she knows that to rediscover the happiness that had once been so abundant in her life, she has to get her parent killer to justice . The mice had unwittingly become a symbol of her longing for a brighter, more carefree existence, and she couldn't help but yearn for a chance to reclaim what she had lost, in which she knows she could never regain but at least she could bring make them regret all they have done to her.

The sharp pain from her injured hand made her stare at it to discover she had been holding her palm in a tight fist all this while.

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