Saving Isadore [MxM] (An Alpha's Fight Book 1)

Chapter 9

ISADORE ¤ POV 

-PAST-

I panicked as I was dragged away from my parents, my wrists chained in front of my stomach. They'd taken my clothes, given me a scratchy white shirt and thin shorts too big for my hips. I could feel them sliding down with each step I took and the thought of them falling around my ankles in front of everyone made me want to sob.

Tears ran down my cheeks already as I looked back and forth between the intimidating officer who held my hands and my parents who stood stiffly in front of the police station. My father watched me go, his dark brown eyes dull, his posture tired. My mother had her face buried against his shoulder, her own shoulders shaking as she cried.

I didn't want to leave, I didn't know where the officer was taking me. I was scared. "Daddy!" I called out to him, struggling, jerking my arms to break free. I just wanted to go home. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" It was an accident and if I could take it back, if I could make Tarlo come back, I would. I would endure his teasing, his bullying. I would endure it all if it meant my parents would let me come home.

"Quiet, kid." The officer grunted, his grip on the handcuffs never wavering. My chest seized, I couldn't breathe and the sight of my parents became blurred with my uncontrollable tears. Eventually they disappeared completely. The officer lifted me and shoved me in the back of a transit van. It smelled of fear, of anger and sweat, of other alpha pups. I heard the clank of the occasional chain, the grunt or growl of the other boys. Even more sniffling joining my own.

I fell into a seat, knowing that I was being taken away, missing my parents and terrified to the core. I was confused, though it was clear that I was in big trouble for killing my little brother, that I wasn't getting my ear twisted or being shouted at by my father this time. This was far, far more sinister trouble.

It took four hours to reach the institute and an officer had explained that the facility was for troubled young alpha's like myself. They were going to teach us how to control ourselves and function harmoniously in society. We were dangerous, a threat to the public. We were broken. The facility would fix us. That didn't mean much to me. I was only eight years old, I was hungry, terrified and needed to use the bathroom. I didn't understand the purpose of an anger management programme, I only dreamed of being back home with my parents.

I hadn't even been allowed to hug them before I was taken.

The institute was a cold, concrete building filled with a large dorm, a barren courtyard, bare classrooms and the 'activity' rooms. The first week had been bearable. I kept to myself, slept in a single room with a barred window, ate three meals a day at certain times and bathed with the other alphas. We weren't meant to speak with one another, though the hesitant, friendly glances some had given, had been enough social contact to get me through the days.

However, the prison-like way I had lived in that week was heaven compared to the long, pain-filled months that followed once the programme officially started. They explained the emotion, anger. The explosive, dangerous feeling and the violence associated with it. We were all there because we had broken the law due to our anger. I had been horrified when an officer called us by our names and exposed our wrong doings.

Blaire had drowned his pet dog in his family's pool after the puppy had bitten him.

Wes had stabbed his abusive father to death after the alpha had hit his omega dad.

Harley had thrown a chair at his teacher and broken six of her teeth when he hurled it across the classroom.

And Isadore beat his five year old little brother to death after an argument before bedtime.