Alphas *TO BE RE-WRITTEN*

Chapter 2: New Home

"Welcome to your new temporary home," Mr. Anderson--I mean, Micahel--said as he led me into his house. It was huge and way too perfect. I almost wanted to barf. "Your room is just upstairs."

I lugged my bag up the stairs behind him, suddenly hating how much clothing I had. The door on the right at the end of the hall led to my room, which was small and with walls that were blank with a small bed and an even smaller desk beside it. "Why is it so small?" I asked.

"It'll be easier for you to keep clean. By the way, you're going to need to get rid of some clothes for them to all fit in the dresser," he said.

"I am not getting rid of my clothes," I siad.

He turned and gave me a glare. "Yes you are. Now, while you're here, you're going to live by my rules. You break those rules or disobey me, it will not be pleasant," he growled.

I glared at him. "Now, my pack is coming over tonght for a little party. You will not speak unless spoken to, and you will certainly not be dressed like that," he said, giving a disgusted look at my clothes. I wanted to flip him off, but managed to just barely contain the urge.

I sighed and tossed my bag onto the bed as Michael left the room, shutting the door behind him. How did he want me to dress then? Like some little princess? I scoffed and flopped down onto the bed, which had a heavy, grey comforter and two matching pillows. This room was so blah. I wanted to throw black paint on the walls and rip apart the bead-spread and replace them with my own blankets and pillows. I wanted to cover the walls with posters and blast my music to drown out everything around me.

I stood up and began to go through my clothes. All I had were skinny jeans, either ripped or covered in marker or, and shirts that revealed my cleavage. I had no such thing as undershirts, and I didn't plan on buying some.

I looked around and saw no CD player or anything close to it, so I just started singing a song on my own. "Oh, well Imagine, as I'm pacing the pews in the church corridor and I can't help but to hear, no I can't help but to hear an exchanging of words. "What a beautiful wedding!" What a beautiful wedding says a bridemaid to a waitor. Oh yes but what a shame, what a shame the poor groom's bride is a whore," I smiled and then belted out the chorus, dancing around in my new room. I started to go through my bag and put away my clothes. Which, in fact, did fit in the dresser... Sure, it overflowed a little, but they all fit.

Soon, the sun had gone down and Michael was pounding on the door. "Are you decent?" he asked.

"Behavior wise or clothes wise?" I called back as I lounged on the bed.

The door opened and he stepped in, giving me a very fatherly-like glare.

"You do realize that I could have been naked, right?" I asked, glaring back.

"But you're not, so I'm good," he replied. "You still haven't changed."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with what I'm wearing."

"I'm sure my guests don't want to see your tits, and I don't approve of dark makeup and all of those chains," he said coolly.

I looked down at my chest, which showed just the right amount of cleavage. My chains mostly covered it, though. I looked back up at him, and then narrowed my eyes when I saw that he was wearing a wallet-chain similar to mine. "You have a wallet-chain, so why can't I?" I asked.

"Because girls don't wear wallet-chains."

"Fine then, what would you like me to wear?" I asked, growing irate.

His blue eyes wandered to the over-flowing dresser and then he walked over to it, opening the drawer with shirts pouring out of it. He began to pull out shirts, tossing some to the side, and setting the others by his booted feet. After a few minutes of this, he tossed a blue t-shirt that I almost never wore at me and then gathered the shirts by his feet and stuffed them back into the drawer. "I would like you to wear that, and to remove the chains and dark makeup. As for the shirts over there, they are too low cut and I am throwing them out," he said, and then walked over to the pile.