The Lycan King

1

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Prison.

Another name for home, at least for me.

I live with my mom and the vile creature that makes me call him father everyday.  

He lost the privilege to be called a father after that night.

That night opened my eyes in many ways. And in this house, we do not speak of that night.

But I can not help to think about it continuously since the actions reoccur every day in this home.

That night consisted of profanities, screams, and blood.

That night my father laid his hands upon me for the very first time, breaking and bruising my tender flesh at the age of 6.

And every night since then it happened again and again. Every. Night.

My mother would try to speak up for me and then the same would happen to her but instead of hitting her, he violated her and even invited his friends over to join him.

Every night I wonder, doesn't this hurt him? Hurting his mate and his own flesh and blood?

The one person I wanted to tell to get help, I couldn't. I couldn't tell the Alpha because my father was his right-hand man and he would never believe me. Would he?

That's right, I'm the Beta's daughter. 

My mother's name is Rosalina Ramirez, she is from the neighboring pack in Mexico but after finding her mate she moved to his pack, BlueMoon.

My father is Ramone Ramirez, at the beginning from the stories my mother told me he was charming, loving, and overall a well-rounded guy. After I was born their love intensified and brought us together even more.

In my younger years, I remember being happy. Going to the park and getting ice cream to going to movie drive-thrus. But it all ended when I turned 6.

He became an alcoholic, smoking anything from a cigarette to weed that branched into doing hardcore heroin. He began to come home at different times at night sometimes in the morning. 

Then one night, I woke up to sounds of glass shattering. 

My mother ran into my room saying, "Por favor, quédate aquí, mi amor. No te muevas." (Please, stay here my love. Don't move)

Shaken I listened to my mother and ran under my blankets, repeating "Dios ayudame recordar es nada va a ocurrir para mí hoy que tú y yo juntos no pueden manejar." (God helps me remember nothing is going to happen to me today that you and I together can't handle.)

Hearing my mother scream from downstairs caused me to forget my mother's plea from before. I ran down the stairs to see my father's hand gripped around my mother's throat. I watched as the color drain from her face.