The Twist of Mate

Part 1

"YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH!" I tried to start wiping up the spilled pot of chili but I was grabbed up by my hair and slapped across the cheek. I tried not to whimper in pain but I couldn't help it. I wanted to show them that I was stronger but I knew that I wasn't. I was a weakling. An omega. I had become an omega when my parents ran away from the pack to become rogues for whatever reason.

As a young pup, I didn't know that I was one of the lowest ranking in the pack and I was going to grow up to be the pack slave. The last Alpha was gracious and I served him well but he recently handed over the title to his son, Damien. Since he is trying to make a name for himself, he is ruthless. He is the Alpha so everyone follows suit. Well, the older people in the pack don't but they don't live in the pack house.

The pack house was basically the core of the community because it was the Alpha's headquarters. Of course it was huge. There were four floors and a basement, where the cells were. On each floor, there were about fifteen rooms, give or take. The first floor had less bedrooms because the rooms were made into more shared spaces like the Alpha's office, the doctor's office, the kitchen and the living room.

The pack house is reserved for younger weres in training. When they reach the age of twelve, they move into the pack house to start training in their human bodies. Depending on their puberty, they shift between thirteen to fifteen years. Some can even shift as late as sixteen- like me. That doesn't really matter because I'm not allowed to train or shift anyway. I shifted late in my sixteenth year when unfortunately, Damien had recently been given the title. He was twenty at that point and he wouldn't let me shift after that.

After Damien continued to rant at me, I cleaned up all of the chili and decided to just make a giant pot of spaghetti. It was filling and would take the least amount of time. The kitchen had a beautiful color scheme. The countertops were darker granite and the cabinets were cherry oak. The walls were white behind it and the floor was white tile. When the pasta was finally done, I quietly exited the kitchen and went to my room on the third floor. They should be able to smell that the food is done. I knew that if I went to let people know the food was done, I would be setting myself up for some form of punishment.

I went to my room and read. I wasn't allowed many things but one of the older females in the pack was kind enough to sneak me in some books every now and then. She taught me how to read when I was younger and let me stay with her when my parents decided that they would rather be rogues then stay. I had heard a few years later, after I had moved into the pack house that they were killed by other rogues over territory. I felt nothing towards them, well maybe anger.

I remember being very young having them around. All I could remember was them being in love, so deeply in love. I remember being happy. I couldn't have been more than three years old but I remember being happy. My mother would tuck me in and tell me how much she loved me and my father would kiss me on the forehead. I had gotten to the point that when I looked back on those memories, their faces blurred and I didn't remember what they looked like; just pieces. I knew that my father's voice was very stern and deep but he was a very loving and sweet. I remember my mother's long blonde hair being the softest thing that I'd ever felt. I could even remember being sad that I didn't get my mother's hair. Mine was a dingy brown that had no luster or volume but those feelings were long gone. Considering that I know that they left me, I didn't even try to remember anything else. They didn't deserve my thought or heartache.

I was half way through the book "To Kill a Mockingbird" by Harper Lee when Damien barged into my room. I jumped in fear and ended up against the wall. He looked around my somewhat pathetic room with disgust even though I liked it. Before it was bestowed upon me, it had actually been one of the rooms that unfortunately was trashed by a young shifter. The poor boy had gotten angry over one thing or another and shifted without realizing. He tore the room apart. There were leftover claw marks and the paint was old and chipped. No one bothered to clean it because it was given to me and not someone that was relevant. I'd only briefly seen other female's rooms but I was content with what I had. I would have preferred to stay with Helen but Damien wouldn't hear of it. He almost threatened to leave me down in the basement after I shifted. I know that because he often used it as a threat to keep me in line.