Discipline

Acantha was grateful that the stranger had given her his shirt. She shuddered to think of what she would have done otherwise.

She would have walked home in nothing but her underwear.

"Ugh," she groaned as frustration bubbled inside her.

Veinnel's torment was becoming unbearable, and Acantha feared that soon, she might resort to physical violence or something even worse.

She tugged at the hem of the oversized shirt, hoping it might stretch to a more decent length. No amount of pulling could make it reach her knees. Her only hope now was to sneak back into the house without anyone noticing.

With her parents preoccupied with the visitors from the neighboring pack, Acantha reasoned they would be too distracted to notice her stealthy return.

Then, a chilling thought struck her. The stranger had to be from the other pack. She bit her lip nervously, considering her options. What if he mentioned seeing a naked girl in the stream?

Should she go back and beg him not to tell anyone? How would he explain his missing shirt?

"No," she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

"I need to get home." She leaned into the collar of the shirt, inhaling deeply, and hoped her luck would hold.

As she made her way back, she didn't run into anyone and felt a surge of relief. By the time she reached the back door, she was practically skipping with relief.

"Just where have you been, young lady?" her father's deep voice cut through her moment of triumph.

Acantha froze, her heart thudding loudly in her chest as she raised her head slowly to meet his gaze.

His eyes were filled with anger, making her fear what might come next.

"Are you deaf now? Answer me!" he bellowed.

The force of his voice made Acantha flinch. "I ... I went for a swim," she stammered, her head still bowed. She couldn't gauge his reaction, but she knew it wasn't good.

"You went for a swim?" he repeated with a sneer. The sound of his voice nearly made her whimper.

"Do you or do you not know that you are not allowed to do that, especially with visitors here?"

"Yes, da... I mean Alpha," Acantha said, her voice trembling.

"It was just, um, the weather was so hot, and I wanted to cool off a little." She tried to explain, her heart racing.

"And whose shirt is that you're wearing?" he asked, taking a menacing step closer until she could see his feet.

Should she mention Veinnel? Perhaps her father would admonish her and lessen her punishment.

But how could she explain the shirt's origin? Her father would instantly recognize it as belonging to one of the visitors.

"What happened to your clothes, Acantha?" he demanded in a firm voice that brooked no argument.

"While I was s.... swimming," she stuttered, "Veinnel caught me. For some reason, she was angry and went on and on about something. She stole my clothes even though I begged her to give them back."

"I'm sure you did something to provoke her. Veinnel is a sweet and obedient child," her father said dismissively, defending Veinnel and making it clear that her punishment would not be reduced.

Acantha swallowed nervously and continued, "A stranger, a man, saw me and gave me his shirt."

The silence that followed was deafening. Her father's anger was palpable, and it was clear he was far from pleased.

His face held resentment, and Acantha knew her father would not let her off lightly.

Her hands trembled as she braced herself for the punishment she knew was coming.

"Do you have any idea what you have done?" he said in a harsh whisper.

"Foolish girl."

He grabbed her hands and pulled her along. Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she tried to keep pace with him, her pleas echoing in the narrow staircase.

"Please, I'm sorry," she begged, struggling to keep up and avoid being dragged.

"I won't do it again. I'm sorry, Alpha. Please."

Her pleas fell on deaf ears as her father continued to drag her down to the basement where her room was. He kicked open the door and threw her inside, locking it behind them.

Acantha crawled backward, her heart pounding with dread as she tried to avoid the inevitable beating. She chanted,

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," as her father retrieved the stick from behind the door, the one he and her mother kept for her "discipline."

Father raised the stick and commanded, "In your front!"

He and her mother had always ensured that her punishments were discreet, hidden away from the prying eyes of the pack.

It was their way of maintaining their façade of being good people, though it did nothing to shield her from their cruelty.

Knowing from experience that begging wouldn't make a difference, Acantha pushed up the borrowed shirt, closed her eyes, and turned to present her back, steeling herself for the first stroke.

The anticipation of each stroke was almost as painful as the blows themselves.

"Whop! Whop!! Whop!!!" The sound of the stick striking her skin was a brutal rhythm she had come to dread. She counted silently, trying to relax her body with each stroke to minimize the pain and bruising.

After what felt like an eternity, her father threw the stick aside.

"This should teach you that the rules we've set for you are not to be toyed with. Stay in and don't come out, unless when asked!

Your mother expected you to attend the Luna festival, but you were nowhere to be seen, even Anel had no idea where you went to. "

His footsteps faded as he stormed off, and the door slammed shut with a finality that made Acantha shiver.

She lay on her side, the pain making it impossible to sleep on her back. The bed was cold comfort, and the straw beneath her felt like a bed of nails.

As she closed her eyes, Acantha imagined a different world, a world where her parents loved her, where she was a cherished child of the pack, and where she didn't have to make do with discarded clothes and meager meals.

But deep down, she knew that such dreams were futile. This was her life, her reality, and there was no escaping it.

Acantha huddled in her room as she moved stiffly toward the water basin in the corner of her room.

She knelt beside the basin, her back still sore from the beating. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she dipped her hands into the cool water, splashing her face and trying to wash away the traces of her tears and sweat. The water was a welcome relief, soothing her bruised skin.

"Why does it always have to be like this?" she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as she dabbed at her wounds. She could see the angry red welts forming on her back, She avoided looking directly at her reflection in the water, not wanting to see the bruises she knew were there.

As she worked to clean herself, the door to her room creaked open slightly.

Acantha's heart skipped a beat. She turned her head to see her mother peeking in, her expression a mix of disapproval and indifference.

"Still in here?" her mother's voice was cold, almost detached.

"Make sure you're ready to be up early tomorrow. We have visitors to entertain, and I don't want you causing any more trouble."

Acantha nodded silently, feeling the sting of her mother's words.

Once her mother left, Acantha continued her task, finishing up with a small, threadbare towel. She wiped her face and dried her arms, wincing at the pain,

As she stood up, she made a decision. The events of the day, the punishment, and the torment of Veinnel and her family had pushed her to a breaking point. She needed to escape.

"I can't stay here anymore," she said aloud, "I need to leave. I need to find somewhere I can be free."

She took one last look around her sparse room, taking in the peeling wallpaper, the worn-out bed, and the small window that barely let in any light.

"I'll leave before daybreak," she said. "No more of this. No more being a prisoner in my own home."