Tressandra ✓

3 ❥ Burned

Tressandra

"I can't believe he was with her!" Martha squawks like a possessed bird, throwing a pillow on the ground dramatically while she clenches her jaw. She's young and stupid, and she's getting on my last nerve.

"Ezra with Klepto of all people? Really? What was he thinking? Maybe it was an accident. Are you sure you saw them together, Tabitha?" Penelope wonders dubiously. None of us can really fathom that there are lycans here, or that one was seen gallivanting around the pack with our sister.

Why did he take an interest in her? I made myself more than available. I threw myself at their feet, and got nothing. Klepto is the doormat of the pack and he attacked Nathan for her? What is this?

Jealousy rears its ugly head. The things I would say to Klepto right about now, they would make a sailor cringe. Even if I know she's innocent, this moment has me seething. It's not fair.

My long nails dig into the skin on my arms as I clutch myself for some kind of comfort. They pierce my skin, and I can already smell the blood. Pain reminds me. It shows me. It leads me.

"I'm positive. Now Nathan's in the pack clinic. Who knows when he'll ever see daylight again." Then there's that beautiful bit of information. Ezra almost killed Nathan.

Nathan the pervert, my own personal tormentor. He's been overthrown it would seem. He pathetically lays in a hospital bed, barely able to feed himself on his own. The thought pleases me.

What doesn't please me is the image of Klepto and Ezra. Why would he want her when I've basically put myself on a silver platter for him? Mother taught me how to please a male, how to attract them. When I look in the mirror, I know I'm beautiful, but maybe he can see past that. Maybe he could see straight to my rotten core. That terrifies me.

I fluff my hair, watching my sisters talk endlessly while I tune them out. I love them, but they annoy me sometimes. They talk of trivial things, stuff that doesn't matter. Maybe if I was like them, I would think that stuff was important. But I've been through too much. I don't have to be a part of this conversation, it only brings me pain.

Those lycans should be mine. I should have them wrapped around my finger by now. Nathan and his gang always pay attention to me, as do a lot of other male wolves in our pack, but apparently I'm not good enough for them.

And I plan to find out why.

"Girls! Dinner is ready!" Mother calls from downstairs, halting my thoughts where they stand. I tug my long sleeves down to cover my bruised wrists. There's only so much concealer I can use to hide the abuse.

Her announcement sends a deafening stampede of children rushing to the kitchen in excitement. My parents are often overwhelmed with the house full of kids, but they're the ones who chose to bring 10 pups into this world.

With the way our Mother treats us, I'm surprised she voluntarily became a baby making machine. She hates most of us.

Passing her is terrifying, even if I know she won't openly hurt me in front of everyone. I'm walking on eggshells being near this she-demon. She could explode any second. I'm her favorite target.

The dining room table is already doused in plates, cups, and silverware. There's high piles of steaming food. The scents are delightful. A roasted turkey with green beans and big, fluffy dinner rolls. My mouth begins to water when I spot the chocolate cake in the middle of the table.

"Alright!" Says Teller in excitement, settling down in a chair and tucking his napkin into the front of his shirt. My Mother pinches his cheek like he's a little toddler. He absolutely beams at the praise, slicing into the turkey. She always did love her sons more than us daughters. In her world, females are second class.