I'm the Alpha's Mate

Chapter 11

My time in the attic was difficult. Not only was I very young, but I did not understand why I had to be hidden away. All I knew was that my ability held me back in some ways. It held me back from making friends with the other children, it held me back from learning with others, it held my mind back and caused me stress. Communicating with the moon goddess was a shoulder for me to lean on when I shouted that I could not go any further. When the desert sun boiled my back, and the climb seemed too hard, she gave me a drink of water and threw me a rope. I counted on her, and for the most part, she answered my calls.

I remember some days more clearly than others. The winter months blend together, mix into one long day, while the summer months are chopped up by the hour. I watched the snow from my attic window, the rain, the leaves falling from the trees—I would watch the children dance in the white fluff, stomp into puddles, and toss bundles of browns, oranges, and reds into the sky. My memories faded, and I no longer remembered what it was like to scream, laugh, and play. No matter the season, the attic always had a shadow cast over it.

When I was not in the attic, I was downstairs with my mother and father. Mornings for breakfast and nighttime for dinner. My lunch was brought to me by my mother who regularly had the Luna over, though I never knew why. I do remember one day when I was playing with my dolls, and I heard loud voices erupting from downstairs. My feet scurried to the window, and I watched as a man came rushing out the front door. My mother followed quickly behind him, shouting that she had nothing to hide, but clearly, she did. She told him to stop coming here, that it was an invasion of privacy with no reason behind it. They could not prove anything. Although the scene confused me as a child, it makes too much sense to me now.

The next day we left for Grandmothers.

I did not understand for a long time. Why was I kept separate? Why could I not attend lessons with the other children? Why did I have to be utterly, terribly, and outright alone? I try to make sense of it all now, and I do. My childhood was stolen by a man whose face I have never met, a man so absolutely obsessed with seeking revenge. This stranger is turning my soul black with hatred. I hate him for snatching my early years, I hate him for ripping me away from my parents, and I hate him for making me jump every time there is a creek in the house. My mind is consumed by him, by this Alpha. Why can I not live in peace? Why can I not grow with my mate without interruption? Why can I not escape him? All of this because of my ability, an ability I did not choose.

I look out the window now and gaze into the trees. Night seeps around them as the sun drops west, replaced by the dim, dull moon.

When I lay back and shut my eyes for the night, my mind conjures all kinds of terrors, and I cannot escape them.

The forest floor is damp underneath my feet, like a sponge it sinks when I step, releasing a thick, dark liquid onto my toes. There is a dense fog engulfing the trees and brush, consuming whatever lay in its path. It sits in the air like a hefty smoke. I know it is here, I can feel it around me, I can smell the pungent stench that emits off of it. My nose scrunches from the foul reek and my eyes water.

I am tired of running, tired of screaming and shouting for my parents and my mate, for they never come. The moon casts the spotlight down upon me, and I hold my breath, waiting, waiting for the beast to appear and for the chase to commence. This time, though, I am exhausted from the running, falling, and stumbling back up again. Defeat is standing before me, and I want to reach out and give in.

What if I feed the beast, give it what it wants? What will happen? The worst outcome would be that I die in my dream and wake up.

A low, rough growl grabs my attention, and I spin around. The beast is here. My eyes squeeze shut, and I swallow hard. The beast is coming closer. My hands wrap into fists at my sides. The beast is running. The beast is running towards me—sprinting with pounding steps. I cannot do it, I open my eyes, but it is too late. The beast pounces and digs its long, bent claws into my stomach, tearing through my flesh.