Mates with the Alpha

Chapter 14

POV: Rose

After the wolf left, I couldn't help but notice the loneliness in heart grow three sizes.

I've seen the wolf before, I can't remember where. I want to scream, cry out, yell, anything to keep the wolf from leaving me. But the stinging in my throat as I hold back tears, reminds me that I can't call for help.

I'm all alone. I've always known this, but I always had hope. Had hope that maybe that angel I asked for would come- they would come and save me. But as the realization, that no one is coming, I felt the fight drain out of me.

What's the point in fighting, if there is nothing to fight for? There is no safe haven. No angel. No escape.

I quickly run up the porch steps before Michael can hurt me again. As I race to my bedroom, I take notice of my blood-dry now- on the wall and the floor. I like to think he enjoys leaving it there, he says its a reminder of what happens when I disobey him. But I don't need a reminder, what he did to me, I will never forget.

I turn away from the large dark spot and quickly make my way into my room before I can get sick.

-----

By the time I wake up the next morning my throat throbs with the soft sound of my beating heart.

Not for the first time, I think how easily it would be to stop that little pitter-patter that comes from my chest, and sounds throughout my whole body. But again, like every other morning, it's the same. I can't do it. I can't help but feel it's cheating. People come face to face with death everyday in such heroic ways, like fighting for our country. It just seems to easy, and shameful-not to mention selfish- to just take my life away without doing anything useful, or something to help someone else.

Like always, I decide I won't do it today. I swing my legs to the side and gently push myself out of my small and uncomfortable bed. The pain from my throat is so bad that my eyes start to water.

I race into the kitchen and start to make Michael's breakfast: homemade waffles with syrup, fresh cut strawberries and bananas, and freshly squeezed orange juice from the orange tree outside. I quickly look through the cabinets for salt, before he could come down and catch me, when I finally find it, I pour it a glass of room temperature water and gurgle. The salt water was bitter and disgusting, but it was the only thing to keep my stitches from reopening.

I was supposed to be on pain medication, to help me heal physically. And anti-depressants, to help me heal mentally, although I'm just like Michael says worthless, stupid, a mistake, fat, ugly, and that's all I will be. Nevertheless, I don't get either pill because he wants me to remember the pain.

The consequence that comes with disobedience.

Sometimes I feel like I am the dog, and he is my master. He craves control, power, and submission which he reflects on me.

I hear his feet loudly pad into the kitchen where they abruptly stop when he sees me. I immediately drop my eyes to the ground and hang my head in shame at interrupting his breakfast.

Last time I did that I got 34 strokes of the belt, my back was cut and bruised so bad that it never healed right and the scars covering my back could split open at any type of movement that is to sudden. Of course no one ever found out because we moved the next day.

Instead of stomping over to me and grabbing my hair an dragging me deeper into the pits of hell, he just stands in the entryway with amusement in his eyes. He must find it funny and satisfying to watch me shake in terror at just the presence of him. He suddenly moves from his place and walks towards his breakfast. I cringe and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as I anticipate the insults and the beatings to come at any moment...but nothing happens. I slowly open one of my eyes, and if my throat wouldn't have ripped open at the sound, I would've laughed.

He is quietly eating his food and reading the newspaper I brought in from outside and set up for him. He looks like something he could've been, an ordinary father. I cast my eyes downwards again before he catches me looking at him and the punishment is even worse.

"This is good today, Roselyn" he compliments, this comment was so shocking that it made me forget about the pounding occurring inside of my throat. "And as reward, I'll let you take one of these" he reaches into his pocket and takes out the orange container that has the medicine for my wounds and throws it at me.

I catch it before it can drop to the ground and spill all over.

I attempt to be discreet and quiet as I run back over to the cabinet and look back over at him to seek his approval for use of a glass. He nods slightly, amusement, and something unidentifiable now in his eyes as he watches me try and reach for the cups that are on the top shelf.

I feel my eyes start to prickle with oncoming tears when I realize that I can't even get a cup of water without his help. As much as I didn't want to admit it, my life depended on his, and I think he knew this and enjoyed it.

He gets up from his chair and I try and shrink back into the wood doors. He walks towards me I'm such a manner that reminds me of a video in my biology class of how a tiger stalks his prey. He pins me between the sink and his body as he reaches behind me to grab a glass from the cabinet. He then, with me still pinned against him, fills up the glass with water from the tap and puts it on the counter beside me.

I try and take the lid of the pills but the stubborn thing won't come off. Michael- for once in the last 6 years- gently takes it out of my shaky hands and opens it easily the first time with a smirk on his face. I calm myself down enough to take the large pill into my clammy hands and use the water to help me swallow. This was incredibly hard.

My throat barely allowed water to go down. Trying to force this horse-sized thing was a challenge. After my choking and coughing i got it down and not long after did I start to feel its effects.

I had forgotten what position Michael and I were in until he put his hand around my waist and used his fingers to push my chin up so I looked into his eyes. I started to feel very uncomfortable, and tried to get away, but he grip on me only got tighter.

"You are never leaving me. You are my blood. You are mine. Do you understand?" He whispers menacingly as an animalistic growl comes from deep in his throat. I just nod in response. It's not like could leave, where would I go? He just proved that I couldn't even get a glass of water without needing help.

I see and evil pride for himself flow through his eyes...and something else, but this time the emotion wasn't unidentifiable, I knew exactly what it was. And this made me feel a whole new type of fear and disgust. His eyes darkened a whole shade as they flooded with lust.

Without warning he leans in, but before he could do whatever he was going to do, the doorbell rang.

When Michael open it, it was the last person I ever expected to see...

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Sorry for leaving you guys on a cliffhanger😂😂 I made this one a little longer so, yay👍👍

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