His footsteps drew closer, I prayed for the floor to swallow me whole. The familiar scent gave him away before I even saw his face — my so‑called father. He stopped in front of me, his features twisted into a snarl.
"What are you doing just standing there?" he spat, eyes narrowing.
I stammered, desperate for an excuse. "I‑I was just… headed—"
He cut me off, his voice dripping with venom. "I don't care. Head toward the bridge and jump, for all I care."
I flinched, biting back tears. He turned away, only to pause and glance back, suspicion flickering across his expression.
"Why were you laughing earlier today?"
Terrified, I shook my head. "I‑I wasn't laughing."
he demanded, his voice dripping with malice.
I stammered, "I-I wasn't... I wasn't laughing," I whispered, my voice shaking.
Smack!
"You don't deserve to laugh, you worthless bitch," he spat.
I crumbled, tears streaming down my face.
Smack!
"Stop crying, you worthless slut! You're nothing but a useless whore! Get out of my sight!" My father's voice was laced with venom as he stood on the stairs, vodka bottle in hand, his face twisted in disgust. The amber liquid sloshed in the bottle as he swayed slightly, his eyes blinking slowly.
I cringed, the burning sensation on my cheek barely registering as I stumbled back to my room. My vision blurred with tears, and I tripped on the edge of the carpet, almost falling. I caught myself on the doorframe, my knuckles white as I clenched it tightly.
"Nae?" A soft voice wrapped around me, followed by warm arms enveloping me in a hug. My sister Kesha's familiar scent of lavender and vanilla enveloped me, and I let my sobs pour out. I buried my face in her shoulder, trying to muffle the sound.
Kesha held me tight, her body shaking with rage. She gently guided me to the bed, sitting down beside me as I cried. When I finally pulled away, her eyes locked onto my bruising cheek, and her expression turned cold. "Who did this?" she growled, her voice eerily low.
I gave her a weak smile, trying to brush it off. "It's okay, Kesha. I'm fine."
I tried to brush it off, shaking my head. "It's okay, Kesha. I'm fine."
But Kesha's face was set in a determined expression. She stood up, her eyes flashing with anger. I shook my head again, trying to stop her. "There's no point, Kesha. There's no use."
Her face softened, and she sat back down beside me. "Is there anything else you need to do?" she asked gently.
I nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "Just the dishes..."
Kesha's expression turned stern. "No worries, I'll cover them up for you. Go to bed, Nae. You've had a long day."
She helped me under the covers, tucking me in like I was a child. As she turned to leave, I caught her eye. For a moment, I saw a flash of fury, but it was quickly replaced by concern.
As Kesha shut the door behind her, I let out a slow sigh, closed my eyes, feeling the frustration build up inside me.
"Yay me," I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I sighed, the sound heavy with frustration, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold, hard mattress felt like a slab beneath me as I opened my eyes again, staring blankly at the ceiling as I reached for my homework.
Guess I'll have to stay up all night finishing this, I thought, trying to stifle the bitterness creeping into my mind. I wish my life was easier.
The words echoed in my head like a broken record. Who ever said life was fair, anyway?
* * * * * *
The chirping of birds pulled me from sleep. I didn't need an alarm clock — the constant fear of being unprotected among my pack made me a light sleeper. Who knew what they might do if I let my guard down?
'Nice thoughts in the morning, Lynae ' I grumbled to myself. Dashing into the bathroom, I took a quick shower before throwing on a pair of black sweats and a blue sweatshirt. I combed my fingers through my hair and grabbed my bag. Walking downstairs as quietly as I could in a Packhouse full of wolves, I retreated to the kitchen to make them breakfast.
In a house full of wolves, silence was survival.
I retreated to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the pack. Soon, the table was covered with platters of pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, toast, cereal, smoothies, and orange juice. They ate like pigs more than wolves, I thought bitterly. But I was truly envious. All I ate for breakfast was a piece of fruit or toast and a glass of water
As I washed my hands, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. I shut off the water and pressed myself into the corner. Kitchen clean, food cooked, bags ready in the foyer, I ticked off silently on my mental list.
My father appeared, and it took all my willpower not to flinch. His presence alone set my wolf on edge. He grabbed an aspirin and a glass of water, then left without noticing me. Relief washed over me — I didn't want to be the first face he saw after a hangover.
Glancing at the stairs one more time, I went back towards the kitchen counter, cleaning up the mess he made. Suddenly, the loud voices of my fellow pack mates floated to my ears. Scurrying back towards the corner once more, I stood still, eyes to the floor and hands clasped behind my back.
his footsteps drew closer, I prayed for the floor to swallow me whole. The familiar scent gave him away before I even saw his face — my so‑called father. He stopped in front of me, his features twisted into a snarl.
"What are you doing just standing there?" he spat, eyes narrowing.
I stammered, desperate for an excuse. "I‑I was just… headed—"
He cut me off, his voice dripping with venom. "I don't care. Head toward the bridge and jump, for all I care."
I flinched, biting back tears. He turned away, only to pause and glance back, suspicion flickering across his expression.
"Why were you laughing earlier today?"
Terrified, I shook my head. "I‑I wasn't laughing."
he demanded, his voice dripping with malice.
I stammered, "I-I wasn't... I wasn't laughing," I whispered, my voice shaking.
Smack!
"You don't deserve to laugh, you worthless bitch," he spat.
I crumbled, tears streaming down my face.
Smack!
"Stop crying, you worthless slut! You're nothing but a useless whore! Get out of my sight!" My father's voice was laced with venom as he stood on the stairs, vodka bottle in hand, his face twisted in disgust. The amber liquid sloshed in the bottle as he swayed slightly, his eyes blinking slowly.
I cringed, the burning sensation on my cheek barely registering as I stumbled back to my room. My vision blurred with tears, and I tripped on the edge of the carpet, almost falling. I caught myself on the doorframe, my knuckles white as I clenched it tightly.
"Nae?" A soft voice wrapped around me, followed by warm arms enveloping me in a hug. My sister Kesha's familiar scent of lavender and vanilla enveloped me, and I let my sobs pour out. I buried my face in her shoulder, trying to muffle the sound.
Kesha held me tight, her body shaking with rage. She gently guided me to the bed, sitting down beside me as I cried. When I finally pulled away, her eyes locked onto my bruising cheek, and her expression turned cold. "Who did this?" she growled, her voice eerily low.
I gave her a weak smile, trying to brush it off. "It's okay, Kesha. I'm fine.
I tried to brush it off, shaking my head. "It's okay, Kesha. I'm fine."
But Kesha's face was set in a determined expression. She stood up, her eyes flashing with anger. I shook my head again, trying to stop her. "There's no point, Kesha. There's no use."
Her face softened, and she sat back down beside me. "Is there anything else you need to do?" she asked gently.
I nodded, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me. "Just the dishes..."
Kesha's expression turned stern. "No worries, I'll cover them up for you. Go to bed, Nae. You've had a long day."
She helped me under the covers, tucking me in like I was a child. As she turned to leave, I caught her eye. For a moment, I saw a flash of fury, but it was quickly replaced by concern.
As Kesha shut the door behind her, I let out a slow sigh, closed my eyes, feeling the frustration build up inside me.
"Yay me," I muttered, my voice dripping with sarcasm as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes. I sighed, the sound heavy with frustration, and swung my legs over the edge of the bed. The cold, hard mattress felt like a slab beneath me as I opened my eyes again, staring blankly at the ceiling as I reached for my homework.
Guess I'll have to stay up all night finishing this, I thought, trying to stifle the bitterness creeping into my mind. I wish my life was easier.
The words echoed in my head like a broken record. Who ever said life was fair, anyway?
* * * * * *
The chirping of birds pulled me from sleep. I didn't need an alarm clock — the constant fear of being unprotected among my pack made me a light sleeper. Who knew what they might do if I let my guard down?
'Nice thoughts in the morning, Lynae ' I grumbled to myself. Dashing into the bathroom, I took a quick shower before throwing on a pair of black sweats and a blue sweatshirt. I combed my fingers through my hair and grabbed my bag. Walking downstairs as quietly as I could in a Packhouse full of wolves, I retreated to the kitchen to make them breakfast.
In a house full of wolves, silence was survival.
I retreated to the kitchen, preparing breakfast for the pack. Soon, the table was covered with platters of pancakes, waffles, bacon, sausage, toast, cereal, smoothies, and orange juice. They ate like pigs more than wolves, I thought bitterly. But I was truly envious. All I ate for breakfast was a piece of fruit or toast and a glass of water
As I washed my hands, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. I shut off the water and pressed myself into the corner. Kitchen clean, food cooked, bags ready in the foyer, I ticked off silently on my mental list.
My father appeared, and it took all my willpower not to flinch. His presence alone set my wolf on edge. He grabbed an aspirin and a glass of water, then left without noticing me. Relief washed over me — I didn't want to be the first face he saw after a hangover.
Glancing at the stairs one more time, I went back towards the kitchen counter, cleaning up the mess he made. Suddenly, the loud voices of my fellow pack mates floated to my ears. Scurrying back towards the corner once more, I stood still, eyes to the floor and hands clasped behind my back.
I could feel their presence as they sat in the dining room, feeding off the breakfast I made them. "Eww! What the HELL is this crap!?" Tiffany, the main pack slut-and alpha Drayton's girlfriend-screeched. '
Uh oh,' I gulped, 'what did I do wrong? Oh god, I'm so dead,' All too soon, I felt a large hand swipe across my face, throwing it towards the right. I looked down, biting my lip and holding back tears that were threatening to spill out.
What the fuck is this crap?!? I want breakfast for my girlfriend, not garbage! Now go make her something else you useless bitch!" Drayton screamed, causing my wolf to whimper in pain.
Why does she hurt so much? It's not like this hasn't happened before, I thought numbly.
I nodded mutely at him. My cheek burned from the impact; it probably left a bruise there. At least my werewolf healing would help with it. I quickly made a substitute breakfast for Tiffany before heading out the door after the pack. They all got into their expensive cars, leaving me to walk to school. Of course they would.
Of course they left me behind. Walking to school was my burden — they couldn't risk me tarnishing their perfect reputation.