Accusations

Matilda was stunned.

Did they really believe she had snitched?

After spending years under Madam Tera's strict eye, how could they not realize that she didn't need anyone to tell her anything? She saw everything.

Or maybe...

Maybe they weren't looking for the truth. Maybe they just needed someone to blame.

As she made her way back to her room after another exhausting day, she could feel the weight of their stares, the murmurs that followed her like shadows.

And the moment she stepped inside, she was met with hostility.

Tina.

The one person in their room who had always treated Matilda like an unwelcome guest.

Now, she wasn't just irritated, she was furious.

"You really think you're something, huh?" Tina sneered, arms crossed as she blocked Matilda's way. "Thought you could make yourself look good by throwing us under the bus?"

Matilda barely had time to react before Tina stepped closer, her posture aggressive, almost challenging.

Nora tensed. "Tina, back off."

Lynda moved between them, a hand raised in warning. "This is getting ridiculous."

"Ridiculous?" Tina scoffed. "You would say that. You two weren't the ones scrubbing floors during break!" She turned back to Matilda, venom in her tone. "You're the reason we got punished."

Matilda swallowed hard, gripping the hem of her worn-out dress. "I didn't tell Madam Tera anything."

"Like hell you didn't!" Tina barked.

"I didn't," Matilda repeated, quieter this time. "She found out on her own."

"Right." Tina's laugh was sharp, mocking. "And I'm supposed to believe that? You're just a pathetic little pet trying to earn favors."

Matilda flinched but held her ground.

Lynda exhaled sharply. "Tina, enough. You're acting like a child."

"Shut up, Lynda."

"I mean it, Tina."

The air between them was thick with tension. Then, with an angry huff, Tina shoved past Matilda, making sure to slam her shoulder into hers before stomping toward the door.

BAM!

The entire room shook as she slammed the door behind her.

Nora let out a long whistle. "You better not break that door, ooo, or you will fix it."

Silence settled in the room. Matilda remained standing, fists clenched at her sides.

"You okay?" Lynda asked, her voice softer now.

Matilda wanted to say yes, but the words wouldn't come.

Because, truthfully, she wasn't.

The accusations didn't stop.

Every glare, every scoff, every passive-aggressive remark... it was suffocating.

Matilda never responded. She never fought back.

She just endured.

And someone was watching.

From the corner of the pack house, Madam Tera observed, eyes narrowed in silent assessment.

She saw the way Matilda shouldered the burden alone, how she swallowed every insult, how she never retaliated.

To the others, Matilda looked calm, unaffected.

But Madam Tera knew better.

She knew the signs of someone who was being broken.

If Matilda had been any weaker, she would've collapsed already. She would've shattered under the pressure.

But she didn't.

And that, perhaps, was more concerning.

That night, after finishing her tasks, Matilda didn't return to her room.

She needed air.

She needed space.

The garden near the forest was quiet, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the suffocating tension of the pack house.

She stood there, letting the wind caress her face, her hair dancing gently with the night.

For a moment, she could breathe.

The distant chatter of pack members filled the air...families, children laughing, parents guiding their pups through the pack's game reserves.

A perfect life.

A life that had been stolen from her.

She barely remembered her parents now. Their faces were hazy, voices lost in time.

But she remembered the feeling.

The warmth. The safety.

Back when all she had to worry about was eating, sleeping, and basking in the love of the family she no longer had.

A hollow ache settled in her chest.

Because that life was gone.

And she wasn't sure if she would ever get it back.

A child's loud cry shattered the quiet night, pulling Matilda abruptly from her thoughts.

She turned toward the sound, her eyes landing on a small pup wailing in his mother's arms.

The woman...frazzled and anxious, gently rocked him, whispering soothing words while rubbing his tiny back.

Matilda's heart clenched at the sight.

There was a longing in her eyes, deep and unspoken.

How many times had her own mother held her like that? Whispered soft reassurances? Calmed her fears?

She swallowed hard, gripping the edge of her dress.

If only…

If only she could turn back time, erase that tragic night, rewrite her story.

She wouldn't be here.

She wouldn't be an orphan.

Her parents would still be alive, and so would her uncle. He would still be the strong, steady presence in her life, guiding and protecting her.

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the ache away.

But the past was unchangeable. And no amount of longing could bring them back.