Omega (Alpha & Omega #1)

{Chapter Fifty Eight}

I laid in the king sized bed, staring up at the ceiling as Theo took a shower. He'd gotten a suite, instead of a regular room with two beds. He told me it was because he preferred to be comfortable, rather than sitting in a cramped room with two beds forced in. The couch out in the living room turned into another bed, and he offered to allow me to stay in the room with the ensuite bathroom.

I took the offered room and locked myself inside. I hadn't been hungry when he came back with food. All I could do was lay there, thinking about how my father looked and tried, somewhat pathetically, to feel any remorse.

He was my father. But that's where it ended. He fucked my mother, made her pregnant, and that's where his participation stopped. Sure he tried to teach me how to be an alpha, but he'd never once treated me like a daughter. He treated me like a thing he needed to teach to obey. Like a dog.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the light of my phone flashing on with yet another call. Keon and Cayson had slowed down since Theo explained what happened, but I didn't think they'd be fully alright until I told them I was fine.

In retrospect, they probably thought I was angry at them. They'd probably been thinking that since I became quiet around them and left with Theo without letting them know.

I rolled out of bed, leaving the phone in the middle of the sheets, and went to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet in the whirlpool bathtub and watched as it rose, bringing with it more and more steam to coat the mirrors. When it was full, I turned on the jets, threw my clothes off, and stepped in.

The water burned my limbs, turning my pale skin pink immediately. But it didn't bother me. It never did. I could take scalding hot shower and come out with burn marks, and it still wouldn't have bothered me.

I allowed the jets to punch against my skin, massaging the tense muscles.

Did I blame Keon and Cayson for what they did to my father? No. I didn't. I ordered that disfigurement. Did I blame myself? No, it wasn't that either.

I blamed my father.

I sunk down farther into the tub and blew small bubbles, looking around the large bathroom.

I blamed him for the beatings. For the lack of unconditional love. I blamed him for trying to kill my mother. I blamed him for taking any chance I had in having a child for myself.

The part that bothered me was the fact that I didn't feel anything. Even if it was a random person, I'd feel something. But with my father, there was nothing. He just looked as pathetic as he did when he had all of his limbs in place and two eyes to see.

After about an hour, the water turned cold and my fingers and toes looked like my body was taken over by a ninety-eight year old. So I pushed myself out and wrapped myself in a towel.

Then I looked at myself in the full-length mirror.

I was tired, worn down. But I'd grown some body fat since living with the brothers. Before, I'd practically been skin and bones. In the beginning, they forced me to eat. Then I ate willingly, somehow finally enjoying the taste of food for the first time in an incredibly long time. There were days when I didn't want to eat, or didn't have any real hunger to speak of. But one look at me could tell that I'd been deeply cared for.

Keon and Cayson were good men. They were stupid at times, but every instance was something to learn from. And they did. They were learning who I was, just as I was learning who they were.

And the people I called mates were also two people that brought out a new emotion in me. An emotion so foreign, if it weren't for the fact that they'd shown it to me so many times, I wouldn't know what it was.