"Please stop!!"
The most she can remember is her fight being met with a mind-numbing blow to her head which makes her fall back on to the bed that lost its warm soft layer of comfort. All she could hear was the ratchet rapid fearful beats of her heart and something apart from the grunting and slapping. The rain, she turned her head to face the rain. She remembers hearing the pitter patter as it hit her window.
She felt a heavy rough had grip her face then got rewarded with another angry blow to her face. This one did it, her stomach quenched in pain and nausea. Her head spun and she stares up at the ceiling of her room, a familiar darkness. The rain drowned out her pain and misery. She focused on the blur of the rain all hope and purpose gone. She remembers the nothingness as her eyes closed, she remembers the stubborn hands abusing her limb body and she remembers the lies he made up.
.
She shot up her bed. Thank the heavens it was all a dream. Again, she felt the uncomfortable pang of nausea, and she ran to her small bathrooms. She was too late to reach the toilet, but she was closer to the sink. Her body heated with sweat, discomfort and the fire made its way out her mouth and some her nose. Usually, she heals faster than this but due to her multiple injuries and the frequency of the amount of time she fractures or break something... she's a constant amount of pain.
That is her daily routine. She cleans up the vile fragment of her haunting dreams and now sat in her shower. The water is not hot, but every drop feels like razor blades urging her body to react. She did. More heat escaped her eyes; she stared at the empty wall and her fingers turning red. She started sobbing holding herself close. There's no such thing as time in the mornings. Her days and nights were routine but there's something about today, today does not feel like any other day. She gets ready for school trying to ward off the eerie feeling from playing games with her mind.
She gets out one of the large luxurious cars without facing the driver. She shivers even thinking about her driver who thankfully speeds off with no regard for the students crossing the street. His scent twists her stomach, and her blood pressure spikes by his mere presence. She sucks in a deep breath holding back tears, healing slows down the more hope she loses. She's wearing her blue school skirt and a white short-sleeved shirt, white short socks and black shoes.
This is another day she stands in front of the ginormous gates, and she turns her head to face the pedestrian's selling food or walking past. She is the Lunas daughter and most importantly a teenager who does not deserve the black bruises around her neck. Every day she exits the car she shows everyone what they are turning a blind eye to. This pack has no shame... the sins of the father cannot possibly be the sins of the daughter.
Eyes looked away or they barely even saw her. She cocks her head to the side, it's funny... if it was their children they wouldn't be silent. Her pack watched as her life was sucked out of her. Yes, they are part wolf, but they lost their humanity. She nods deciding there is nothing she can do but walk in. Even her peers avoided her as if her misfortune could be spread. As if her life cannot get any worse, she gets bullied. It's either she's baring punishments for her parents or envy that colours their faces.
Why would anyone be envious of her life? Do they not see the bruises? Are her lips not chirped enough? Is her constant wince when she moves not evident? Do they not see the torment she bares for her parent's history? Don't they think having a photographic memory suck for her?
She remembers everything in great detail which includes the good and the bad. She used to cry out for help, beg for pity and she was ignored at every turn. She was continuously broken down and disappointed by everyone around her that she became silent. She stopped speaking, no one heard her speak for years now. She maintained her image, excelled beyond record in school and forcefully survived every day.
She sits uncomfortably at her seat and her entire body protested that decision. She felt the familiar hot emotions making its way down her cheek. Tears, that's how she knows she's still alive. She does not know who left a mirror on her table, she looked around and everyone looks disinterested, but their eyes were on her. They were blatantly staring at her encouraging her to look in the mirror. The irony, the only people that see her only want to mock her. She brings her hand on her surely bruised cheek and the moment she turned the mirror around she burst into tears. Her face, her eye, her lips she looks how she feels. The longer she looks the more she found it strange that her body wants to taste how miserable she is.
The moment she heard laughter from people that celebrate her pain she got up and left the class. No one at least pretended to be worried, why should they? No one walks the halls which mean no on revel in her pain. Fate is clearly mocking a joke by writing her existence. All of a sudden, she felt her hair being pulled then yanked. Her hands instinctively reach out in defence until she placed the scent to the violence, the principle. What the hell is pack law when no one follows it unless it regards omegas?
The principle dragged her by her hair. She didn't fight it, she let herself be pulled, shoved, thrown against a hard surface. The room was dark. So, she closed her eyes. Behind her lids, she saw herself standing above everyone here in Umbriel, she saw her lager than the average wolf crushing skulls with a single bite. She's stronger, confident and odd. She feels it, it's like a fog and a loud roar calling for her attention. She hesitates to turn around, but the pull is strong finally after a second, she submits to the call... A slap pulled her back to reality. She reeled not from pain, but from the reminder of how vast and empty nothingness could feel like.
"The rules are there to be followed. I don't care how smart you are, you will not ruin the name of this school. You should also pride yourself with discipline and grace. If you continue to carry yourself like this, which alpha will want you?"
She started blankly at the fierce looking woman. She's not angry at her, probably something her father did but his not here to atone for his sins. She stares at her, time was not kind to her, her hair is styled in a strict bun, her facial lines harsh as if time wished to age her like her rotten personality. Rules? Those still exist. Alpha? Who would want to subject themselves to an alpha in this society?
She curls her hands and legs closer to her person, her only defence to protect her organs. She says nothing in response. Everyone gets mad when she refuses to talk to them and usually make their displeasure known. How can you force yourself to be disciplined in a graceless world? She got pissed at her silence.
She felt sharp nail pierce her bruised skin, she winced at the sting, but she could not focus on the bitter ache. She got yanked to her feet and pushed against the table. She wanted to curl up again, but she knows to stand still. Again, she will get punished for her silence. Resigned to her fate she turned held on to the desk and waited for her punishment to start.
"You are not a mute. Say something!"
She bowed her head. She heard the wind as it got sliced before she felt her bottom burn in humbling pain. A damn broom sticks to discipline children for being disruptive. Yet, she is receiving punishment for her tears and silence. Where is the justice in that? The more she swings, the more her bottom numbed. At first, she winced at the multiplying combining pains but now she numbed to it all.
"Speak! That is an alpha command."
She felt like laughing. Fortunately, those commands don't work on her and when the mistress saw that... She got more furious and landed an additional five over the ten that humbles her. She can see her tears but no one in this pack deserves to hear her voice. It's not pride; It's discipline. The irony of it all. Her voice is the one thing she can control right now. Why would she want to lose that? She did but why should she cry, scream and beg if nothing comes out of it?
"Get out before I hurt you."
She walked of of the comforting cold barely acknowledging the pain. She walked to the bathroom to evaluate the blows she vaguely feels. The principle has a way to skilfully target her thighs and bottom to cover her extent of abuse and miss conduct. She splashes water on her face and head to class not saying a word.
"Sit down Marx."
She nodded and went to her desk. She sits on a thousand of hot, shards of ice and needles. The pain moved from the tip of her toes and rushed though to her head. She fought against every demon to not say a word. The internal struggle makes her experience every ounce of pain her body and mind ignored.
Here a almost sixteen-year-old senior forced to sit through five more hours of school. Her body protests at her tolerance. The intercom beeped an annoying sound that introduced a migraine to the party. Happy days. She knows tears probably escaped as she tried to control the pain radiating throughout her body.
"Can Alexandria Marx please make her way to the office with your bag."
That beep rang again. Completely miserable she made her way to the one place everyone fears. She walked in but did not bow at any teacher, principals or alphas. In her mind they don't deserve an ounce of submission and respect from her.
"Alexandria, your cousin is here to pick you up."
What is her life? How does she deserve this life? She looks at her step cousin who grins as if he should be appreciated or worshiped. She followed him, he looks to be in a good mood. He pulled her closer and he kissed her unmoving lips.