The Alpha Son's Sunshine

Memories

Miles

"You're gonna stay down there until you realize how disrespectful that little stunt you've pulled earlier was!"

That was the last thing I remember my father saying to me before I was back to the old cellar for my punishment.

I don't remember how long ago that was but it must've been past a couple weeks already. I remember clawing the side of the cellar wall each time I counted to 60 to make a minute. One out of the four dark walls surrounding me had already been fully clawed.

I remember my teacher taught us there was 1140 minutes a day. And if I recount each claw mark in total of the one wall I fully clawed, it had a bit more than 30,250. At least that's what I remember clawing one last time before I passed out from starvation.

Usually my father would only keep down here for one week without food and water. I vividly remember him telling me that was the same punishment his father did to him when he was my age, so usually when he did it I'd try to go through it just as he did. But as much as I tried to tough it out, my body at the ripe age of 6 when he started that method, would pass out no more than 3 days with no food or water.

I remember during those times, Kirsten our kind chef, would sneak down here during the nights my father was asleep or out drinking. I'd open my eyes to her trying to call my name out loud enough for me to hear but not loud enough for my father upstairs to hear.

She'd look down at me with tears in her eyes while shoving a warm cloth for me to wrap around my shivering body and sliding whatever food or bottle of water she can fit through the small slot on the cellar door. She'd only have enough time to do all of that before having to rush back upstairs in case one of the other guards that worked for my father would find out she wasn't in her room or in the kitchen.

In our pack house there were kind people that worked for my father who took pity in what my dad would do to me. And then there were others who wouldn't even glance at me when my father would beat me in front of them. It was mostly the guards who worked around the pack house for my father that didn't bat an eye when my father would do the things he'd do. It was either because they didn't care or because my father paid them too much to care.

Either way, I was only glad I had a couple staff such as Kirsten and a few other butlers and maids around the pack house that would care for me as if I was one of their own. They'd go out of their way to clean up my cuts and bruises after training sessions and when I'd be done with my punishment down in the cellar, they'd rush down to carry me upstairs if I was passed out. Then they'd bathe and took care of me till I was healthy enough to move and eat on my own. Or at least until my father found out and had me get out of bed earlier than I was healed to go back to training.

Now that's it's been more than 21 days, I'm starting to feel numb everywhere. My eyes are barely opening on their own now. It's been weeks since I've eaten anything now. Thinking back to what lead up to this, I remember my father yelling at me about bringing pigtails into our home. And after he finished yelling at me about it, he fired Kirsten and threw me into the cellar without a second thought. He must've punished the other maids and butlers as well seeing as they all were in the living room when my father fired Kirsten and berated me in front of everyone.

Now that he's done that, I knew for certain there was gonna be no way I was going to survive lasting any longer in this cell. It's been weeks since I've had any food or water. My wolf was the only thing keeping me going. My body as a human would have never lasted this long and I would've been long gone by now if my wolf didn't have alpha blood running through it.