Alphas Damaged Mate

CHAPTER 1

Nothing is impossible. The word itself says 'I'm possible!'
— Audrey Hepburn

❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆ ❆

As i slowly limp home from a horrible day at school, i have to bite my lip to stop myself from crying as every time my foot comes in contact with the ground it sends a shooting pain though my ribs which are very badly bruised.

All because Todd Holms decided to punch me in the side for apparently not moving fast enough. He then continued to kick me several times to remind me to walk quicker next time.

I'm used to it by now, this is a regular occurrence for me apparently i am always in the way, don't walk fast enough, don't do their homework good enough and honestly just breathing too close to any of my classmates, results in them either beating me or calling me names.

Lucky i am a werewolf and have incredibly quick healing. So hopefully the bruising will be gone in about an hour or two.

I eventually make home, the lights are off and the front door is locked. Meaning my father is not yet home from the pack house.

I sigh in relief. Retrieving the house key form my bag i open the door quickly. Walking down the hallway, i make it to my room which is the last door on the left.

I ease myself down onto my mattress, which is by no means soft or fluffy, and try to not aggravate my bruised ribs. I lay there breathing though the pain.

30 minutes later

"OPHELIAAA", i jump awake to my father yelling my name. Groaning i crawl out of bed.

"Where are you bitch, why isn't my dinner cooked yet". I hear him walking down the hallway.

Shit, i must have fallen asleep, this is bad, this is really bad. I make it to the door just as it is swung open from the outside, almost hitting me in the head.

There in the doorway is my father. His face is beet red with anger.

I stand with my head bowed, not making eye contact and desperately praying he doesn't hit me in my already broken, but slowly healing ribs.

"Well don't just stand there, go make my dinner, NOW!!

"yyyyes sir", i stutter. Running into the kitchen being pulling stuff out of the cupboards and fridge. I turn towards the stove with a pot of boiling water in my hands and accidentally trip over my own feet.

Boiling water splashes all over the floor and stove, the pot goes flying towards the ground making a loud bang as it hits the tiled floor below.

Jumping out of the way to avoid being burn. I quickly hurry to pick up the pot and clean up all the spilt water before my father arrives.

But I'm too late.

"What have you done. How hard is it to make a fucking meal, fuck!". Yanking me to my feet he drags me towards the basement.

I kick and scream trying to pull my arm out of his grip but its pointless, his grip is too strong. Dragging me down the stairs, i stumble to not trip.

Dumping me in a heap on the floor, cradling my arm which is aching from his tight grip on it, I try catch my breath and prepare for whats to come.