Horrible Alpha

Glava Odin

"You're weak," he growls.

Fwip

The whip slashes across my back and this time I can't hold back my whimper.

"Pathetic," he mutters.

Fwip

"I feel sorry for anyone who would have ever gotten you as a mate."

Fwip

"Too bad you won't be able to find them," he says laughing, as he walks out of the room.

I lost count on how many times he'd whipped me today. Something must have happened in the pack. He usually only tortures me for an hour or two.

As these thoughts run through my head, I can't help but feel like passing out. Something I do almost every whipping. But only this time, it's worse.

No, don't pass out. Stay awake. Something's coming.

Even as I keep thinking this, I can't help but welcome the darkness as the pain becomes too much.

~~~

I awake to a searing pain in my back as I force myself to not scream out in pain. That would just alert people to me, and one thing that I've learned over the years of being beaten, was to never make people notice you. If you did, you wouldn't like the consequences. I'd learned that the hard way.

I kept screaming, trying to get someone to help me. I didn't really know what was happening. The guy said he was going to help me forget what happened with my mother. Now, he was hurting me? How is that suppose to help?

"MOM!!" I screamed, as tears streamed down my cheeks.

He continues punching me. Trying to get me to stop screaming. My stomach is sore and no doubt bruised by now, but all I can think about is getting someone to stop this horrible excuse of a man, from hurting me further.

"Help me! PLEASE!" I keep repeating.

"Stop screaming or you won't like the consequences," he yells at me.

I look him in the eye and say, "I will never listen to you. You are a monster."

At that, his face gets really red and I think he's about to whip me this time, when we both hear a faint knock on the front door. He quickly went to get it and I heard some muffled voice speaking until the door closes once again and he comes back.

I immediately start screaming again. Not wanting the people to leave me here alone with him.

Before I can even prepare myself, his fist hits me in the throat, successfully cutting off my screams. As I struggle to breathe, he punches me again--and again, and again and again. When he eventually stops, he turns to me and, as he's walking out, says:

"Now you wish you'd listened to me , don't you? Maybe next time you'll cooperate better."

After that, I couldn't speak, much less scream, without my throat feeling like it was on fire. Or, like I was getting stabbed, over and over again. I'd thought he'd prevented me from speaking ever again but after about three months or so, my voice came back.

All he ever gave me to eat was bread, which was extremely hard to eat after my throat had been manhandled. Even water hurt like hell for me to drink. I thought that was the worst pain I'd ever felt, getting punched in the throat multiple times. My mom used to tell me 'even if you think the pain is too much to handle, convince yourself you can handle more, so the pain doesn't seem too unbearable' when I would fall down on the playground, or stub my toe on the table from not watching where I was going. Gosh, I miss her. It's all I think about now. I wonder what would be happening if she was still alive. If I would be safe with her. Not having to get beaten--just because no one was there to protect me.

I'd stopped crying a while ago. When I knew that it was pointless. Only making my abuser feel like it was the right thing to do, even if I was hurting.

But he couldn't have been more wrong. Not only was my birthday coming up, it was also the day I would find my mate--or at least would have found my mate. It seems hopeless to actually think my mate would come for me. I'd stop believing I'd had a mate a long time ago.

Now, more than ever I wanted to escape, but I knew it was just a waste of energy. If I were to get caught, I'd be hurting well past the day of my birthday.

My abuser always whipped me less on my birthday. Probably only about an hour. I know that may seem like a long time to you, but I'm used to being whipped for more than 2. My birthday was always something I looked forward to but at the same time dreaded. I never got food the week of my birthday. I guess he was trying to weaken me so that it would seem like the beatings were the same. But I could still tell the difference.

The sad thing though, was that the pack knew what he was doing to me. Well, not the whole pack but more like the alpha, beta, and their mates. They recently found out about a year ago and when I heard about it I was so happy! But then the days passed, which turned to weeks and then months, and they still hadn't done anything about it. It was like they turned a blind eye to what was happening to me. Like they didn't even care.