Big bad Damsel

CHAPTER [12] - Control.

That moment felt like the end of the world for Darren.

His ears were deafened like there was a cover prohibiting him to hear anything, the only thing he could hear was the siren of his ears, the noise simply became louder and louder,

it was like he was dissociating.

When all the gazes of the elders in the room shifted towards Darren, he felt like he was stuck in a glass box, like he was something up for show, something that was being exhibited. The eyes of the onlookers made him want to vomit out his breakfast, lunch, and dinner. But what twisted Darren's organs the most,

were the eyes of the alpha,

the eyes of his father.

the eyes of that cruel, cruel man.

Yes, it was that look in his father's eyes that chained Darren's limbs from when he was just a toddler, from the moment he could walk, he could only use his legs when his father permitted him to. And from the moment he spoke his first words, he was given a script to read out.

It was the eyes of his father that rooted Darren down to the seat that would be his fate.

Fate,

Fate. Fate is what controls our lives...or so some people think. Now, what is the actual definition of Fate? The supposed force, principle, or power that predetermines events; the inevitable events predestined by this force.

For others, the word is beautiful, fate would bring two people together, and as fate would have it, it could be the light in someone's day.

but to Darren,

the word was the muse of his depression.

Yes, his fate was decided for him, from his personality to the way he talked, everything was decided for him by somebody else, even his preference in food was pre-decided, his clothes, the shoes he wore, and the way he tied his laces. And in the decisions made for him, fate was not an exception.

He was living by the rules of someone elses game since he could remember, and when he tried straying, he was brought back, with bruises, or sometimes he would meet the darkness of his room, only hearing the sound of a whip clashing against his skin.

Yes, this was all the same.

Carter knew what he meant when he said to let Darren choose.

Darren could not choose, or better worded; Darren didn't know the meaning of choose.

Darren never had a choice to begin with, not when he had to choose between his younger siblings, and certainly not now. Because choices led to fear and guilt.

It was better to live by someone else's rules,

that was the first thing his father had tought him.

Free-will was a luxury, and to caged birds like him, it would simply have him killed.

The question he was asked, only had one possible answer, and it was his father's,

Darren's nails dug into the palms of his hands, he knew there was no chance, there was no choice, and they had no say in the matter to begin with; maybe Damsel was too stubborn to accept it, but that was how it's always been to darren. He always had to swallow his emotions, he had to swallow the words he wanted to scream out, and keep the hands he wanted to use to paint, to instead hold a pen over documents. He was a coward,

A coward that could not even protect his only reason to live.

His mate.

The idea of a mate was so addictive, it was anesthetic to him, a drug in his brain, he could get high at the fact that there was somebody out there tailor-made for him, a person, who he could merely graze knees with, that could rid him of all his problems.