Soulmated: Love me Alpha

The dream...

A young brown haired boy scowled at the girl next to him.

"Why do you have so much hair?"

"My mommy doesn't want to cut it," the little girl pouted. It flowed all the way down to her waist. She took a long strand in her hand and began to stroke, smiling at how it shined in the sun. "She says it makes me look pretty."

The little boy's face scrunched up, like he tasted something sour. "Pretty? I think you look like a dark woolly mammoth with all that hair."

The dark haired girl stopped petting her hair. She bit her lip, and began to pick at her nails. "I think I look pretty," she mumbled, looking down at her lap.

"You wish you were pretty," the little boy sneered. He stood up and put his hands on his hips. "Even my mommy is prettier than you."

The little girl bit her lip even harder, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. His words stung, even if she didn't know what his mommy looked like. She refused to blink or wipe the tears away. She wanted to be strong to show that his words wouldn't affect her. Sticks and stones, she thought. Sticks and stones . . .

"I don't care what your mommy looks like," she said, this time looking him in the eyes. "My mommy told me I was pretty and so did my daddy."

"Whatever you say." The little boy shrugged, as if indifferent, looking away from her. "But I still think you're ugly and worthless."

That did it.

Tears poured down the girl's cheeks, dropping into her hands. Her nose was starting to become runny but she refused to sniffle. She didn't want him to hear her crying. She didn't want him to think that he had hurt her.

The boy looked down, waiting for her to snap back. His eyes bulged. Her messy, moist-cheeked runny-nosed state was shocking.

"What the hell are you crying for?" he shouted at her.

"Y-y-you called me u-ugly." She hiccupped, unable to speak without blubbering. Her words were as thick and unclear as mud. "Y-you hurt m-my feelings."

He cocked his head to the side, looking both confused and innocent. "I didn't hurt your feelings."

"Y-yes you did!" she cried out, wiping her runny nose and eyes on her bare arms.

"But—but," he stammered, fumbling to get control of his words, wanting to find a way to make things better, "but Kyle told me to!"

"What do you m-mean?" she hiccupped.

"Kyle said that the only way to get girls to like you is to be mean to them so that they'll try really hard to get you to like them and so that they'll like you," he explained all in one breath.

"Well it doesn't work that way, you big dumby!" she snapped at him. Anger replaced tears. "Don't ever call me ugly again!" She stood up and poked him hard in the chest. The boy's eyes widened again, this time out of fear. "You're just a stupid boy with a stupid friend and you're mean!"

She stopped to give him a hateful glare, and then turned her back to him, arms crossed.

"I'm going home," she said haughtily, her still moist nose high in the air. Sweetly and lightly, she said, "Have a nice day."

The scorned boy watched her walk off in stunned silence.

Anger boiled in his veins, the sting of disappointed hot and burning. He ran into the woods blindly, not following any path. Kicking and stomping, he destroyed anything and everything as much as his five year old strength would allow. He yelled with each assault made on the unmoving tree trunks, blinded by furious tears.

"Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he yelled. Rage pulsed through every fiber of his being. The boy punched an innocent tree, tears falling. His energy started to burn out, his blows less intense. "Why am I so stupid!"

Then he stopped, the rising anger depleted. He collapsed on his bum, examining the damage. Nothing but scratches and bits of broken bark.

"I'm too weak," he murmured, examining his bloody knuckles, scarred with torn skin. The boy frowned and plopped onto the ground. He wrapped his arms around his knees and pulled them to his chin. Rocking back and forth, he stared off into space, wanting desperately to fill the void he felt in his stomach.