Mending My Broken Heart

Chapter Four

Unfortunately, the absent seat Mason decided to fill, happened to be at the table Lizzie, I, and another girl sat at. She seemed to know Mason well, and instantly moved closer when he sat down.

I watched as she picked her hand up, ran it through his thick hair, down his spine to his waist and cling onto his belt, using it as an anchor to pull herself even closer. I've never wanted to rip a hand off centimeter by centimeter, painfully as possible, as much as I did at that moment. So that's what pure hatred felt like.

Mason stiffened, but didn't react otherwise to the obscene trash, feeling him up in front of his mate.

If glares could kill, she wouldn't just be dead, there would be two skewered holes going straight through the back of her head to the front. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath. But that was a bad idea. Worst idea I've ever had. The arousal emanating from Mason was in the air. I could taste it. In a bad way.

She was dead. In my mind I had savagely pounced, snatching her from Mason's seat and tackled her to the floor. The whole class had frozen and watched on in horror and disbelief, among the humans, as I ferociously ripped out her jugular with my nails.

But in real life, I only watched, holding a tormenting mask of utter indifference, while screaming in pain beneath it.

To be raped, as I had been, was complete pain, both physically and mentally. To be abused, was torture for your state of being. All I'd felt after was numbness and worthlessness. But I'd lived.

I didn't think this sight was something I could live through. Death was a mercy I didn't seem to be worthy enough to have been granted.

But nothing I had witnessed with the pair of them before me mounted to the pain that ripped through me when she landed her lips upon his. The excruciating tear raged across my heart, leaving it in shambles.

That's when my torso became engulfed in a pain I'd never experienced before. It was so violent I was blinded. I attempted gripping the desk to pull myself back to normalcy, but that was to no avail. I was lost in the flames enveloping me, devouring me from the inside, out.

And as I hit the floor, I was greaful for the cool black nothingness that I'd became so accustomed to after my previous alpha would abandon me, when he was finished.

I wasn't technically unconscious. I'd just been thrown into a numbness. Colors and sounds become alike and blended past me in swirling motions. I tried to focus, but attention wasn't something I could grasp and eventually I gave up. I thought about how I better tell my dad that. He teased me every time I let go of something easily because it didn't happen too often, usually my stubborn gene rang dominant.

It wasn't till much later, I'm assuming by the time on a nearby clock, that I came to. I was in a bed, or at least on one, a plush bedspread was beneath me and a warm quilt over me. The room was nearly empty but it smelled very familiar. But that didn't make sense, our house held on odd citrusy and musty scent to it, as if when it had been cleaned, it was daily, twice, with a lemon scented cleaner, everywhere. But this room though. I'm not quite sure how to explain it, but that it was warm, and I knew, without a doubt, that it was safe.

The door on the opposite wall from me opened and a woman came bustling in. She was the type who always had a rolling energy around her. I was sure even while sleeping she would have that illusion of constant motion. She turned off to the side to fix the fire I only now noticed blazing in a small, yet ornate fireplace. It's probably why I was so warm.

Just before the door shut, I caught a pair of deep, yellow eyes in the shadows. And then the oak reformed it's barrier. But they were still there, their soul-deep gaze unearthing me.