My Alpha

The Beginning

A/N Hey guys. I just wanted to let you guys know that I hate authors notes so I won't be putting any in unless it is REALLY important. Also this is my first story so as expected it will get better over time. Thanks

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Finely's POV

I fell to the ground and spit out the blood in my mouth. He grabbed me again harshly and pulled me back into a kneeling position. Another blow to the side of my face forced me to the ground. This time he let me lay there. Eyes closed, clutching my face, I curled up on the wood floor. I heard nothing for a moment and prayed that he had gotten bored and would leave me alone, but a strong kick to the stomach told me that this was far from over.

"Look at me!" he slurred.

I couldn't. I hated to look at my father when he was like this. My lack of response to his words earned another kick to the side. I heard a crack as pain shot through me. This time he kept kicking me. The beating continued like this with his cursing and name calling in between blows. I faded in and out of consciousness.

It wouldn't stop. I layed there fading in and out of consciousness for what seemed to be hours. I wouldn't scream at the pain or cry at the abuse. I couldn't. I don't think that I would have enough tears or voice. And it only encouraged him. Even the slightest wince could fuel a whole night of beating.

I faded to darkness one last time thinking that it was over. I woke up again on the ground where I was last. This time he wasn't there. Slowly, I lift my head enough to see him passed out on the couch in the living room. I tried to get up by the slightest pressure only increased the already searing pain in my ribs. I knew he had broken some bones. More slowly than before, I got up. It must have taken me a least two or three minutes to stand up only to have to grab the wall for support.

This was bad. One of the worst beatings I have gotten. I started to creep along the wall to the back door careful not to wake him up. I closed my eyes and look the other way as I passed the mirror hanging on the wall. I wasn't ready to see myself all beat and torn apart.

I stumbled every couple of steps as a result of the empty beer bottles laying around. I try to keep the house as nice as possible. But there always seems to be some empty alcohol container.

I continued to walk to the door slowly wincing with every step. It even hurt to breath. I reach the kitchen and made my way around the counter and dining table to the door. The pain was almost unbearable as I slid the glass door open.

I stepped through the door and the cool air helped relieve my body of a bit of the tension. After absorbing the cool night air a little longer, I turned to close the door. As I closed it I felt safer now that there was a barrier between my father and I. I was able to walk off the patio and towards the only place I felt safe; the woods.