Pup Killer

Chapter One

Today's my birthday.

I'm eighteen now. I haven't celebrated this day in six years. I was scared, scared of what would happen to me. They're always looking for an excuse to exile me from the pack and now that I'm legally an adult, nothing is stopping them.

I treated the day like any other, hoping that no one would notice. I woke up before the sun touched the sky to help other omegas prepare breakfast and make sure clothes were out for the pups who attended the human schools. Even among other omegas though, I was treated as the lowest. The dirty jobs or the ones others were too lazy to complete were given to me. I did them without complaint, as I have for years.

Depending on others moods, there's days when I'm completely ignored and then there's days when I'm targeted as a easy way to release anger or frustration. Today was looking like one of the better days but I wouldn't get my hopes up.

Living in the pack house, most of the wolves were young. Most of the older wolves are mated and have their own homes around town within the territory. The Alpha family reside in the pack house, having a apartment on the top floor. The farthest I've been allowed was the second floor, and that was to clean up someone's vomit. If I was like the other omegas, I could have my own room on the second floor. The Alpha thought it was better for everyone to give me my own room in the basement. It was really just a closet with enough room for a twin bed and small dresser. I didn't mind. It was better then being attacked nightly.

That use to be a regular thing. I didn't blame the others for it. It was instinct for wolves to assert their dominance and I was the weakest. Not that I know much about instinct, I have kept my wolf blocked for many years. I couldn't trust him.

I'm not allowed near the pups, so I wait in my room until those old enough are sent to school or the pack daycare. The room has no personality, there's no small miscellaneous objects I've collected over the years. No one would think anyone has lived in the room for three years. There's only one thing I kept from my old house. It's the small framed picture of me with my mom. You wouldn't know it was me because the pup in the picture is smiling.

That was a good day. The sky was clear but I still wore my signature red rain jacket. No one could get me out of it, I wore it everyday until I lost it. It was found in the worst of places.

The door bangs open and Reida stands there with a scrawl and her hands fisted on her hips. She's one of the older wolves that still live in the pack house. I've heard other omegas say she'd found her mate but she's so ugly he went running the other way. I wasn't brave enough to question her about it. I think she'd look more approachable if she smiled some but what do I know.

"What are you doing in here being lazy? There's clothes to be cleaned." She barked, her voice had a smokers raspiness even though I've never seen her smoke. It could be from her always screaming. She didn't wait for a reply before marching out.

The basement was always warm from the big commercial dryers but I wasn't complaining, I was thankful in the winter months.

To keep the clothes separated and returned to the right wolves, the omegas collected the dirty clothes in individual bags with the room number pinned to it. We tape the room number on the washer and dryers so we know who's is who's. It was never good when clothes got mixed up, But it happens sometimes. Some wolves will send back the clothes that aren't theirs but there has been fights when a wolf notices another in their missing clothes. The omegas are punished for it. Personally, I think they should wash their own clothes and these things wouldn't happen.

Reida talks to herself. They say it's a side effect when loosing a mate, either from rejection or death, you slowly loose your mind. Sometimes she'll just glare at me, more then a few do.