Battle of the Ages

- f i f t e e n -

Grayson's POV

Lukas' hand left my back and I sighed as the relief faded away and the pain returned. I hate myself for seeking comfort in Lukas but the constant throbbing pain is pissing me off. It reminds me of my childhood.

I'm simply just using him.

Lukas left the room to go answer the front door and I waited on the bed on my stomach, staring at the wall. The stupid wall in Maine and not my wall all the way back in Oregon.

It's not fair I had to come here just because I'm mated to the asshole. Why does my whole life have to change just for his benefit? What am I gaining from this? A mate? A pack? Love? Who said I asked for any of that?

I never wanted a mate. I never wanted love. I saw what mates and love did to a person and what it ends in. I experienced the aftermath of it first hand.

My mother died when I was 3. She died giving birth to my little brother, Taylor. I don't remember her much since I was so young but I just remember things being good. My life being happy and filled with love and affection. I was the product of my parents undying love and they shared it with me.

My mother had a rough pregnancy with me and took a long time to recover from my birth but with a lot of time, she was fine. We both lived. I was their miracle child, the child they always wanted and were blessed from the Goddess above with.

After I was born, my mother was strictly advised to not have anymore children. She was too high risk, it was destined to turn out tragically. That advise was followed for 3 years before one drunken night when I was out with a babysitter, they conceived another child.

I was told my mother refused to abort the child. She didn't have the heart to take his life even though it meant giving hers. She carried him barely to the third trimester, her body couldn't handle the stress of a baby.

She went into labor unexpectedly and at the end, she bled out. She barely named Taylor before she died.

Taylor wasn't expected to live either, being pre-mature. His heart and lungs were weak and they thought he wouldn't last the night, even with all the treatment he was getting in the NICU. He stayed there for a few months to everyone's surprise and grew strong enough to come home.

I bet he wishes that he never did.

Things started to get rocky after my mother's death. My dad was struck with grief and vengeance. He wished Taylor was never conceived or born. He had no love for that baby. He only wanted his mate.

He turned to alcohol and drugs to numb his pain but it made him violent and cruel. He had no feeling of happiness anymore, only anger. He released that anger onto us. At first he would just yell, scream, and cry until he couldn't anymore. Then he got physical. It started with some hits and some slaps here and there then it progressed to using knives and whatever he could throw. Next came the rape. My body being sold for money to pay for his addictions.

I ran away when I was 11. I went out the window one night and never looked back. I couldn't do it anymore. My body was weak and used. I was in too much pain for a little kid to bare so I left.

How did no one notice our suffering?

I tried to take my brother with me but he got caught in the window by my father and I couldn't risk staying. I was desperate to escape even if that meant leaving him behind.