Man Or Monster

Play Stupid Games, Get Stupid Prizes

Callum

"WHERE'S MY BREAKFEST FAGGOT?" I woke to my brother's voice screaming. What happened to hello? What happened to how are you? What happened to my name?

Oh Goddess, I thought. What time was it? Had I slept in? Tears filled my eyes. This was anxiety inducing and overwhelming and scary and I had just woken up. I had to make breakfast! I quickly wiped my tears to protect the dignity I had left. It's all I really had, and they didn't deserve my tears anyway.

I startled when Ajax burst into the room, big brother and professional bully. I held my breath. His eyes were more intense than his twin brothers, Alex. It was funny to me, although I wasn't thinking it at the time that my father and pack had adjusted to the idea of two Betas but an Omega son was audacious. My brothers had loved me once and protected me fiercely but not now. Not today, not since I hadn't made their breakfast yet.

His hand was gripping my throat before I had the chance to stand up. He lifted me from my mattress that was lying limply, kinda like me, on the floor of our family attic and promptly slammed me into the plaster of the already cracking wall. This very same interaction had occurred more than a dozen times since I had turned thirteen, hence the sad, broken drywall. I tried to refrain from asking myself this as often as I could but it entered my mind before I thought better of it. What did I do to deserve this?

"Where's my breakfast, fatass? He growled at me and showed his shiny white teeth, pointed sharply at the end of his canines. I blinked.

Was I really fat? I didn't think so. I was 120 pounds soaking wet, tops. Not that there was anything wrong with being fat, but it was just another way I couldn't see who I was anymore. Enough of my tormentors has said it, there had to be some truth in it.

"No Beta, sir. I slept in. I'm sorry." I clenched my jaw to hold my tears at bay and the effect was a sad whimper. He slammed my head into that pathetic wall again.

"You worthless waste of space! Why don't we just throw you out to the rogues? You're not good for anything. I wish you were never born, and so does everybody else." A tiny sob slipped out. I detest this place. I almost wish they would. I had recently read a book about a young boy who had run away and lived off the land. He slept in a hollowed out tree, and I thought of it often. The words hurt more than the punches he was throwing at me.

"Worthless."

"Bitch."

"Faggot." I hadn't even told anybody I was gay. It was just synonymous with being weak.

"Waste of space."

"Die." "Die." "Die."

"I hate you!"

For every punch there was another barb. Another insult, another piece of who I was distorted. I was on floor and he was on top me, just wailing. All I felt was a dull ache and a ringing in my ears that seemed like it was going to reach a fever pitch, and I would combust. That would be nice, I thought.

"I'm sorry." I opened my mouth but nothing came out. I had no words, no way to form them. I was drowning.

He stepped back. I saw a wave of disgust pass over his features, his mouth twisting like a snarled branch, but he wasn't looking at me. He was looking at the mirror leaning against the wall, stored away, next to where I had collapsed in a heap. He snapped out of it and finished with a final kick to the ribs and a "pathetic" before storming down the stairs.

That's when the pain hit me. It felt like hot needles sizzling inside me and a heavy weight pressed to my cheekbones where he had struck me. I was paralyzed by the pain for a few moments. I slowly peeled myself from the ground and stumbled to the area where I kept my toothbrush, travel toothpaste, and bottled water to rinse with. I glanced at the mirror for a moment and grimaced at the imagine of my face. I wanted to scream and hot, angry tears slid down my face. I cried a lot.