It was way too early for that, not knowing what could be waiting in the depths of the woods, blending in with the night. That was also sure to draw her parents' attention, and that was the last thing she needed at the moment.
She forces her feet in the direction of the bathroom, still wheezing but trying to do it as silently as possible. She bends over at the sink, splashing some water on her face, but that only looks to make things even worse.
This was why she'd cut herself off from the pack in the first place. She felt like she was dying and didn't want to share that feeling with them because it would rile them up and make them feel way worse with worry.
But the nightmares were getting worse, and their effects had grown alongside. This was the weakest she'd ever felt after surviving another night of terror. Her legs wobble, and she finally drops to the floor. Terrified, she crawls back into the room.
Was she really dying?
The worst part was that she had yet to figure out what exactly was leading up to her seemingly imminent death. Still had no idea what it was that visited her in her dreams, leaving her with just enough anxiety and fear to last until the next night. She was in pain, everything hurt, and her wolf that'd been struggling and growling to break free was now whimpering pitifully in her head.
Her heart squeezes in fear, every ragged breath feeling like the last, finally has the reality of the situation dawning on her. She couldn't die like this. This would be too unfair, to her, to her parents and to the future she wanted for herself.
Realizing she needed help, she tried to reach out with the scattered remains of her strength, trying to reconnect to the pack bond, but the result of her own stubbornness and the repercussions of her actions chose this exact time to catch up with her as the desperate calls for help seemed to bounce off the very walls she'd put up herself.
For the first time in a long time, she wanted her parents, wanted to be seen and heard. She screamed for them in her head, but nothing was getting through.
Having finally drained the very last of her energy with the futile attempts, Marisol finally collapsed onto the floor.
^
Marisol cracks her eyes open but is greeted by bright lights that force her to shut them right back. Behind her closed lids, flashes of her nightmares haunted her senses. Beads of perspiration adorned her forehead. Her chest ached, burdened by the weight of the lingering fear that refused to dissipate for months now.
She greedily takes in long drags of air, grateful for the ability to breathe again. Unconsciously, she traces her fingers over her neck, half-expecting to feel the pain or lingering scar of the imaginary wound. Her nightmares had begun to feel so real that they'd started to blur with the real world, creating a disconcerting blend of fear and disorientation.
Of all her nightmares, that one was the most terrifying. She still couldn't decipher if she'd dreamed about the second part or if it was real.
She digs her head deeper into the fluff of her pillow, the weight of her exhaustion only now settling in.
'It was just a dream.' She chants, willing her muscles to relax until her eyes fall on the bathroom door. It was open.
Her heart jumps at that, and she springs to a sitting position, checking her body and the pieces of scratched wood from where she'd been gripping the window in her second dream, confirming her fear. Had it been real?
But how had she gotten back into bed? She remembers everything fading into darkness after she'd dragged herself back into the room. In her panic, she rushes to grab a mirror from her bedside drawer and check her neck. There was nothing there other than the dampness from sweat.
She falls back, her chest rising and falling rapidly. She felt tears brimming in her eyes again, her nose stinging. Marisol felt like she couldn't keep this hidden any longer; the facade of strength was crumbling.
She closed her eyes for a while and allowed her heart to settle as much as it could. There were still a lot of unanswered questions, but she forced them to the back of her mind.
She would wait until after the ball. She didn't have any other option.
The Dark Moon Pack had become a formidable force in the supernatural world, their strength and unity unparalleled. The annual ball, a testament to their growth, was a gathering of werewolf dignitaries from far and wide.
It was a celebration of power, diplomacy, and unity among the pack, with Marisol's birthday serving as an additional cause for revelry. It meant a lot to everyone in the pack.
Marisol couldn't bring herself to ruin it. She knew that if her parents found out about her dreams, they would call it off immediately, too, on edge to even think of celebrating, much less hosting a celebration.
With a determined sigh, she rose from the confines of her covers, steeling herself to face the day. Her responsibilities awaited. She was planning the intricate details of the ball that would host werewolf dignitaries from far and wide.
Her mother had done it perfectly for so many years now, and she shouldn't be any different. Maybe she would strive to be even better, but there was no way that would be possible with how messed up her head was as it stood.