The Mark of an Alpha

Chapter 12

My feet had gone numb from the constant frosty ground, my fists raw from Mark's taunt grip. Yet the constant pain in my chest never faded away as time passed, never dimmed the slightest. It was as if it grew worse the farther away I became.

Mark had been dragging me for hours before he put a blindfold over my lifeless eyes, yanking it tight enough to lose any circulation.

"Can't let the princess see where we are going now, can we?" He had said. It hadn't been portrayed as a question, but a statement, a way to rub in my face that I had been caught, that I would not see the sun again.

Everything about me; my body, my emotions, my heart, were gone. The solitary thing that kept me present was the pain, but even that contributed in my lack of emotion, because every time the pain doubled I was reminded of him, of what he had said.

I don't want you.

When the words echoed in my head once again, nothing happened. I had given up, physically and mentally. I had blocked out the reality of the situation, blocked out the fear. When I arrived to my Uncle's he wouldn't stop in killing me. He wouldn't stop at anything to ruin me.

So when Mark shoved me to the ground, causing me to land face first into a thick goo which smelt strongly of mud, I didn't resist, I didn't try to run free because doing so had only led me here. I didn't know where we were but the sound of heavy medal squeaking opened had my body attempting to remind me how to run. I stayed motionless, focusing on the pain in my chest.

When rough hands grabbed my arms tightly once again I didn't thrash nor kick. He shoved me straight not bothering to mention the flight of stairs ahead. As foot met air my body involuntarily tumbled forward, only Mark's hands keeping me from falling.

His cackle filled the area, bouncing of the walls into my ears. I couldn't make out where I was. The stairs under my feet felt strangely of stone; cold and wet, making me believe we were going underground. The more stairs I fumbled down the more sounds reached my ears.

In the distance I could make out the sound of screeching; metal on metal. I could hear small droplets of liquid falling onto the ground.

Drip, Drip, Drip.

A shiver ran down my spine as the temperature plummeted rapidly. I barley picked up my feet as I walked, trying to find my barring, the shuffle of friction caused Mark to pinch my arms tighter. The air smelled strongly of decay, causing me to nearly gag.

"Shut up." It was an easy command, one I'd grown custom to over the years. My teeth started to chatter in the room, sending goosebumbs and chills over the span of my body. Several more minutes passed by before Mark let go of me, only giving me a seconds rest before roughly shoving my body to the solid ground with a smack. My body protested as soreness soared through the impacted joints. With my hands resting in front of me I was able to support my weight off the cement floor. The ground was damp, creating my hands to become sticky from the liquid. I didn't move, nor say a word even when my sight objected, wanting to be used.

Footsteps resounded in facade to my numbed body. The sound was daunting; threatening. In the back of my mind I knew, I knew those footsteps well enough to decipher them any day, even blindfolded. Yet in that moment with nothing but numbness swimming through my veins I couldn't find it in me to care. The slight smack to his step gave him away, then once he was close enough so did his scent; liquor filled my sensitive nose. I stayed at a halt, not moving, not caring, I wanted it. I wanted the pain, because I deserved it; I deserved to die.

Knee caps cracked from the weight once he squatted in front of me, a rough hand soon cupped my cheek, dry skin roughing on my pale face.

"I've missed you, princess." My Uncle's voice filled my ears, confirming my suspicion. Foul breath and alcohol washed over my face, yet my body didn't move from the threat I knew he held. His hands soon grew angered as he gripped my cheek harder.