The Alpha's Abused Mate

one

I've learned my lesson. He was a monster. One I could never escape from. My brother was the only person who could save me, the only one whom I cared for in my life, but one day, he disappeared, with only a note left to console me.

It didn't.

Every day, every night, every second that I was alive, I longed for him. To take me away.

To save me from the torturous nights.

Dad glared at me with bloodshot eyes. He was drunk, yet again. I let my eyes stray to the empty beer bottles on the coffee table. "Look at me when I talk to you, slut!" he screamed angrily, yanking my head to face him.

I gulped. Then, it began. The usual beating every night. I always wondered whether the neighbours knew what was going on. They probably did, but chose to ignore it. I must have deserved that. Dad grabbed me by my hair and flung me across the room. I yelped in pain when I crashed into the brittle glass window.

It shattered upon impact and a few glass shards cut into my back. I fell onto the ground, breathing raggedly as I heard my dad laugh sinisterly. But this was just the beginning. He picked up a piece of the glass shards and pierced it into my arm. The pain seared through me like lightning, forcing a horrified scream out of me.

That had just reopened my previous wound, which was now bleeding profusely. "Please stop, Dad. Please," I whimpered in agony. But all he did was smirk, and proceeded to throw things at me-the flower vase, the beer bottles, scissors, anything sharp or heavy actually.

Then he stormed out, leaving me on the ground, barely conscious.

-

I woke up on the floor of the living room, and forgetting about the incident last night, I stood up in a rush. My pounding headache and sore body immediately made me gasp and collapse against the side of the couch.

"Bitch, where's my fucking breakfast?" Dad bellowed from the kitchen. My eyes widened and I looked at the clock. Holy cow, I woke up late! The events of yesterday flashed in my mind and I winced. Taking a deep breath, I slowly went to the kitchen to face the music.

"I-I'm sorry, Dad. I-I'll prepare your breakfast now," I stuttered, scampering into the kitchen. I tried to be as quiet as possible, but apparently I was not timid enough. "How dare you! How dare you raise your voice at me?! How dare you look at me, knowing you didn't make my breakfast?!" Dad roared, massaging his forehead from the remnants of a hangover.

I flinched, tears welling up in my eyes. He slammed me against the wall, then took a deep breath. "I'll finish this when I get home. Watch out whore," he growled menacingly. My jaw dropped. He... growled?

I decided to ignore that for the time being and prepared his food as quickly as possible, but made sure it was up to his standard-nothing short of perfection. I placed it in front of him and turned around to go upstairs. Before I could, Dad grabbed my arm roughly and squeezed it tightly. I whimpered as he said warningly, "Don't you forget, ugly. No one is to know what's happening and no one is allowed to get close to you. You wouldn't want to know what will happen to any of your friends. But anyway, I have nothing to worry about. You're stupid, worthless, ugly, fat and disgusting. Get out of my sight now."

I raced upstairs trying to compose myself. Yes, it was true. I couldn't deny that I was everything my dad had said I was. I got in the bathroom and washed away all the dried blood, gasping in pain as the water hit me.

I stood in front of the mirror and sighed in self-pity. I could see my ribs, but I still felt fat and disgusting. My body was covered with scars, bruises, and cuts. I turned around, refusing to look at my reflection any longer.