THE ALPHA'S TOY

Chapter 03: Dealing with trailer trash 101

You think life's being a bitch to me?...

Let me tell you about my mom's shit for disaster marriage. Don't worry; it will be very relevant in the story later on, just give me a second.

My parents were high school sweethearts who conceived me at prom. You get it. I didn't make my way into this universe in a glorious manner. It already starts out pretty horrendous for me.

They got married and I assume it was god-awful because my dad fell in love with a hooker not long after. I'm not sure what heavy psychological trauma prompted these extreme obsessive compulsive thoting tendencies but he got her pregnant and came back with a baby in his arms when I was 7 years old. My little half-brother. My mom accepted him and raised him under the condition that my dad was to never see the streetwalker again. He agreed.

SIKE!

Three years later, he took his son and married the harlot, leaving ten years old me behind with a broken mom to take care of.

I know, yikes, time for a new dad, amIright?

Be hella careful what you wish for, because five years later, my mom remarried this sleazy motel room jerkwad who does nothing but leach off of her and promptly enjoys sucking donkey ass.

It's like every time she decides to pick a life partner, she dives head first into the hillbilly garbage pool and fishes one off from the absolute bottom. 

But wait there's more. Turns out, after a few drinks he becomes the total package; Drunk, sad and sporting anger issues.

As hectic as today was, I would take dealing with Alexander and Mister Henderson over dealing with HIM any time.

When I turned 16, my boobs finally came in and although it didn't make me feel any more like a woman, he definitely noticed because, boy oh boy, did he give me his genitals as an offering on multiple occasions which I respectfully declined every time under the strict personal regulation I had of not mingling with child molesters that are married to my parent.

Didn't stop him from trying to grope me here and then. And since threatening to tell mom if he ever does it again didn't work, I just started avoiding being in the same room as him.

Why didn't I tell my mom you might ask? Well, here's the funny, twisted relationship between sexual assault and the dignity of the victim. 

The more people I tell, the more tainted my honor gets. Is it dumb? Probably. Won't change how I feel though. 

As utterly disgusting as being assaulted feels like, it's nothing compared to people hearing about it and suddenly giving me the dreaded "abuse victim" title. The weak, the prey, the soiled.

Free refills on my humiliation cup, coming right up!

 My pride is colossal and my mom's happiness with this douchlord is something I do consider because whether I like it or not, she loves him.

My stepdad, Markus Willer.

After I turn 18, I'm definitely moving out. Nobody will stand in my way. 

I shut the door of my house with my leg as I threw my bag on the couch. Rubbing my aching neck from having to look way up every time I had to talk to Alexander.

I made my way to the kitchen and jumped when I stumbled across him.

He's back? What is it, national jerkoff day?

Markus turns around from the counter and raises his eyebrows at me.

"Heyyyyy, look who's back from her little prestigious rich people school!, he manages while wobbling left and right, little miss ambitious!"

I look over the counter and notice two empty beer cans.

Marvelous!

He's been out of town for the last week. He does that sometimes, saying he has a big "gig" and although he doesn't come back with any more money than that. Those few days where he's not home are the best, most precious times of my life.

As for the gigs, I'm pretty sure he's sucking dick for cash and spending that same cash on blowjobs and the circle of life goes round and round while the STDs pile up like a stack of potion books at a witch's attic.

I stare but then quickly make my way to the fridge to grab a bottle of water without acknowledging him the slightest. He opens his arms wide and shakes his chin while he's talking, seemingly outraged.

"oh, sooo you're not gonna talk to me? Huh? You're too good for us regular people now? Miss big aspirations honor roll student"   he bitterly spits.

Can you step any lower than that? Being so insecure that you're mad at a teenager for working hard and wanting to get out of this life?

"I'm sorry Markus, I didn't see you there. How's the jobless market?"   I say as I turn around to face him and watch as the insecure overgrown sleazy douchlord is taken over by anger.

Do I enjoy making situations worse than they already are? Absolutely not.

Do I hate him and will take a stab at him even if it means things will get ugly? Yes.

Is that dumb? Yes.

Suddenly he's walking towards me with purpose and I panic slightly.

"you think you're better than me, huh, you cheeky bitch?"   he yanks my arm as he says those words and I push him away. My bottle falls on the ground. 

It didn't take too much effort to break lose as he could barely walk anyways and I figured a couple beers couldn't have gotten him this limp so he's definitely on something else.

That's where I get a little nervous. I don't exactly enjoy gettig shot by drugged up garbage people. 

Before I could head for the door he grabs my arm again and I flinched. He turns me around so I face him and he grabs my cheek. I'm ready to throw up the moment his moldy beard touches my chin while he talks. 

"what are you planning to do? Huh? Start fucking rich guys? Get payed? Save for your college tuition? Is that your plan?"   he says every world like it's coming out of the pit of his stomach.

As original as that sounds, I am aiming for a scholarship, excuse you!

"let go or I swear to god"   I finally snap and he puts his gross predator paw on my thigh, interrupting me.

"how about I teach you to maneuver a man's dick that way you can please those loaded fuckers and maybe they'll tip you like the expensive haughty bitch that you think you are.. " he barks and I'm about as ready to jam a knife in his throat as I can get.

I push his arm away and kick his leg so hard I'm surprised I didn't break it. He stumbles backwards until he slams against the tiles of the kitchen wall and falls on the floor grabbing anything on his way out and shattering the toaster before passing out.

I flip him off while he's on the ground, unconscious.

Shabby motherfucker!

To be clear, he didn't hit his head or anything, he passed out from whatever substance he took before I came home but even if he had a concussion, I wouldn't care. 

I grab my bag from the couch, make my way into my room, lock the door and I can finally breath out. Without realizing it, my heart was pouding like a sledgehammer. 

I need to get out of this life.

I need to graduate with honors, make it into valedictorian.

I need to get into the college of my dreams, far away from here.

I need to get a good job and finally be able to support myself and my mom.

Nobody will get in my way.

Nobody...