The Last of Us

2.

Some people would kill to be like us; hell, some even die trying, but the life of an Alpha isn't without pain. While I'll admit we have an advantage, deemed stronger by society and expected to uphold the status of the superior race, our lives aren't without our own inner turmoils. Since I was young, still considered a child yet held to such high standards by my parents, I was expected to be that perfect, Alpha boy. Never was I taught love, never was I taught faith, and never was I taught hope. No, those things were for the weak. I was taught that I was above everyone else and should act like it, I was taught never to trust others and to rely solely on myself, and above all else, I was taught to take. The way I was raised, I only received what I took. I fended for myself, and while I resent my parents for forcing those selfish, possessive and power hungry traits upon me, I also value those harsh lessons. It was tough love, as my mother liked to say, and the only right way to raise a strong alpha, according to my father. What some people, Betas and specifically Omegas would deem cruel was just my way of life, and it's the reason I am now one of the strongest volleyball players in my prefecture.

In school, some respected me and some feared me, but for the most part, I was hated. My team called me king. It wasn't until after they turned their backs on me that I realized the true meaning of that damn word. Yes, I was a king, but kings are lonely, angry and pathetic creatures. That's what it meant to them, at least.

My life as an Alpha wasn't great, but I'd take that status over an Omega's any day. If I was put down as someone of a high class, I couldn't even begin to imagine what my life would be like at the bottom. The bottom... That's where I would be starting again soon. High school was to begin this coming fall. I'd be attending Karasuno High and joining their team as a first year. While that was daunting enough as it stood, there was still the issue of my short temper, a habit that had exiled me from my old team.

I couldn't go through that kind of shit again. I refused to be humiliated by my own teammates, the people I should have been able to rely on. I thought they understood me, but I guess it was just proof that my family was right. Trust never ends well, so I planned on putting up a front around these new guys. I had to keep my guard up but allow them to believe I stood with them fully. Otherwise, the team would fall apart, and the last thing I wanted was to be responsible for another failure. Then again, what bigger failure was there than myself? As powerful as I acted, I knew I was weak. My father knew that, too. He knew how sensitive I really was, and ever since he found that out almost two years ago, he's made my life hell for it.

"Kageyama," I remember hearing my dad's voice suddenly from the front door, but I wasn't in the mood to see his face. I continued tossing the ball at the garage and catching the rebound, the rhythmic beat of it keeping me calm despite the weather. There was a storm coming, something Alphas were prone to be rather sensitive too. I'd be fine as long as it was far away, though, and thankfully it was about ten miles south of my home.

"Kageyama, there's a storm," my dad said in his usual, monotonous voice. I continued throwing the ball, furrowing my brows and mumbling a response.

"I know."

"Are you coming inside?" he asked, although, by the sound of it, he didn't sound anywhere near sincere. It was strange that he had told me about the storm in the first place knowing that I was just as capable as he was in sensing it, but something else was off about him, too. He sounded like he was keeping something from me, hiding his motives like the manipulative person he was.

"I'll be fine for now," I answered skeptically.

"And what about when it gets here? What will you do then?" he pressed, refusing to drop the topic despite how insignificant a little rain storm was.

"I'll come inside before then," I caught the ball in my hands and looked up at him quizzingly, "Why are you asking me so many questions?"

He didn't say anything, rather turned his back to me and shut the door behind him. I sighed and returned to what I was doing before, although, at that point, I couldn't quite focus on anything other than the storm. He had turned my attention towards it and I couldn't shake the impending feeling of dread. I could hear the wind and it was growing louder by the second. My body was cold and I could smell the rain, all of my senses working in overdrive to track it as it approached. I tried to tell myself it was just water, just friction in the clouds above me, but it was no use. I stared up at the gray sky. It was nothing to be scared up, but my primal instincts were stronger than logic.

I soon felt the first drop of rain and flinched as it fell on my cheek. More and more followed and my heartbeat began to race, pounding in my ears and making me feel almost lightheaded. I stood still with my eyes pinched shut, my chest heaving, and my hands balled into tight fists. I wanted to see how long I could wait it out, but as a crack of lightning lit up the sky and a wave of thunder boomed in my sensitive ears, I broke under the pressure of my fears and darted for the door in a pathetic panic.

I was breathing heavily. The sounds of rain pouring down on the rooftops and rolling thunder (heh lol) were overwhelming. I reached for the doorknob but it wouldn't turn. After realizing it was locked, I panicked and banged on the door as hard as I could.

"Dad! Let me in!" I cried out. I knew he heard me, he must have. Was this some kind of test? Some sick, twisted death to prove my strength? I didn't know. All I cared about was getting away from the noise and rain.

"Mom, please!" I yelled, hoping she'd let me in even if my father wouldn't. She didn't, though. No one did.

They left me in the storm for what felt like hours, shivering and shaking as I curled up my knees into my chest and sat crying on the porch. It was pathetic, but I couldn't help my natural fears. Every muscle in my body was screaming for me to run, but I couldn't. I waited there for my parents to show some sort of mercy, to show that they loved me in some form or another, but they never did. I fell asleep eventually to the sound of my heavy breathing and the horrible, crowding sound of wind. It was night time when the storm subsided. I had been leaning against the door as my dad pulled it open, causing me to fall back and wake up to the horror of his angry face.

"Your ancestors braved weather like this with no complaints, yet look at you, crying like you're still a child. I hope you're not so sensitive to minor things like this in the future. Otherwise..." he never finished his sentence, just shook his head, sighed, and left me laying there on the floor. I cried harder after that, and I guess my mom took pity on her weak, little pup. She wrapped a blanket around my shoulders and whispered an apology, holding my hand as we walked up to my bedroom with my hair still dripping with rain water. Looking back, it seemed so childish and pathetic as she tucked me in that night, but at the time, I needed my mother's love. I knew it would never happen again, but she made up for my father's harshness, and it was one of the few things that kept me going.

Although now, she had become conditioned to the tests he'd give me every once and awhile and couldn't bring herself to help me. I understood. My father was an intimidating Alpha with not many limits as to what he'd do to make sure I grew up like him. I didn't blame her for letting her son endure psychological damage, but just because I didn't blame her didn't mean I wasn't upset about it. Of course, I would be, but I could only imagine what would happen to me if I ever expressed that.