Sprouting Lies

Clara’s pov

"You missed a spot, Clara. Or is your brain as dull as this floor?"

I didn’t look up; I didn't dare.

I kept my head bowed, my knuckles raw and red as I pushed the coarse scrub brush across the marble tiles. 

The sharp click-clack of Mira’s designer heels stopped right in front of my hands and immediately, the smell of her expensive vanilla perfume engulfed me.

"I’m speaking to you, servant," Mira sneered.

I would have jerked, but I was now used to this.

Suddenly, a splash of cold, sticky liquid hit the back of my neck, trailing down my spine. A gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it, my shoulders hunching instinctively. 

Looking down, I saw the dark, blood-red stain of pomegranate juice spreading over the white stone I’d just spent an hour polishing.

"Oh, look at that," Mira giggled, tilting her glass further until the last drops dripped onto my head. "Clumsy me. Now you have a reason to stay down there a little longer. Being on your knees suits you though"

My fist balled but still I couldn't dare unleash my anger at her, I knew the consequences better than any one.

My throat felt like it was filled with broken glass and I could only gripped the brush harder, my vision blurring.

“Just be quiet, Clara,” my mother’s voice whispered in the back of my mind. “If you are invisible, you are safe.”

My mother.

The only anchor I had in life, the only reason my life was worth being hopeful for… But now, she is gone. 

She had died three days ago, and the silence she had taught me felt less like a shield and more like a shroud. 

The memories I'd tried so hard not to remember began to bleed through the cracks of my restraint, so vivid it felt like I was just a child again.

I remembered being five years old, I'd woken up from a nightmare to find my bed bare, my mom wasn't beside me as usual.

Even though I was scared, I'd gotten out of bed and gone downstairs to look for my mom but was drawn in by my father's high pitched voice. Before I could stop myself I was heading for his study and pushing the door slightly ajar.

Standing right there at the door and hiding behind the heavy velvet curtains of the door, I'd heard those words that'd been inscribed in my memory ever since.

"A girl, Elena? And what use is your simp of a daughter to me?!" my father, Alpha Edwin, had roared, hurling a glass against the wall.

The cluttering sound made fear engulf me instantly, but I was more scared of even making a sound.

"I needed a son to lead this pack. I needed an heir with fire in his blood, not another weak, sniveling pup like you."

"She is your daughter, Edwin," my mother had whispered, her voice a fragile thread.

The sound of the slap that followed was one I would never forget. It was a dull, meaty thud. I had bitten my tongue so hard I tasted copper, and terrified that even my breathing would draw his attention. 

I’d stood there watching him hit my mother over and over again, without her defending herself and all I could do was cower at a corner. 

When I couldn't take it anymore, I raced back to my room with trembling feet, crying myself to sleep.

I didn't see my mom until the next morning when I woke up. Even though she'd tried to be ecstatic and pretend all was fine, I still couldn't stop myself from asking. 

"Why doesn't he love us, Mama?" I had asked, my voice trembling.

She had turned to me, her lip swollen, her eyes dull. "Don't say that sweetie, your dad loves you." 

“Always remember Clara, your dad is a good man, he is just... burdened by the pack. And that's why we must learn to be quieter, learn to not ask questions, learn to not make a sound because If he doesn't see you, he can't hurt you."

I had simply nodded.

I had believed her. I had even spent thirteen years perfecting the art of being a ghost, but she was wrong! 

Because, a few days later after she said those words, my so-called Father had brought in his Mistress, Lilith, home and her daughter, Mira, and ever since my mom and I were reduced to nothing.

Slowly, Lilith started taking over decision making, and whenever my mom said a word in opposition, my dad was always there to support Lilith and Mira. 

I was the real daughter of the Alpha but lived more than a slave. And we just had to adapt to living with that.

Not until my mom fell sick a few years ago and I pleaded with my father to get treatment for her, but Lilith intervened, saying It was a waste of resources, and my mother was deemed to die anyway.

I'd watched the light slowly drain from her eyes and yet I could do nothing but cry!

"Are you deaf as well as pathetic?" Mira’s voice snapped me back to the present. 

She kicked my hip with the toe of her pointed shoe, not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make me stumble. 

"I asked you a question. Where is my silk shawl for the party tonight? I know you were the one tasked with pressing it."

"It’s in your dressing room, Mira," I whispered, my voice cracking.

"Good. Make sure it stays there… and don't let your 'sadness' ruin the mood. Father says we’re finally getting the house back to normal now that... Well, now that gloom is gone."

Gloom. That was what they called my mother.

I looked at the red juice on the floor and remembered the burial. It had been raining—a cold, miserable drizzle that soaked through my thin coat and yet I was the only relative present to bury my mother. Well, with a few pack members that felt sorry for my mother.

My father hadn't even shown up, neither had Lilith nor Mira, not for anything important but because Lilith had thrown a tantrum and he'd taken Lilith and Mira for a tour in Paris.

He lavished those money on them, those money that could have saved my mother, those money that I pleaded for, those money that was termed to be a waste if used in my mother.

My mother didn't just die alone, my soul died with her. In order not to cry myself to stupor that night, I had tried to be brave and instead of writing a letter to my mom, I'd written it to… Damien.

Damien Grayson, the future Alpha. 

I had only seen him once, helping an old Omega during a blizzard, and I couldn't even keep the flutter in my heart down. Right there and then, I had convinced myself that he was different, he was the one for me and that he was kind.

But my delusions were soon cut short when after coming back from the vacation, Mira spotted my letter and immediately showed it to Damien, sprouting lies as she did.

I remembered the way he had laughed when Mira read my letter out loud in front of the whole pack.

"Clara Hale?" he had sneered, his eyes cold as ice. "The girl who smells like rotten eggs? I'd rather mate with a rogue than a girl who doesn't even have the pride to stand up straight. Stay in the shadows where you belong, Clara."

And that single declaration, put off every spark left in me.

I didn't care anymore about those past. I just wanted to just be free.

I closed my eyes, a single tear finally escaping and landing in the red puddle.

Tomorrow was my eighteenth birthday and the day the mate bond would finally wake up. 

My mother had always told me the Moon Goddess had a plan, that my mate would be my savior. 

That was my only hope out of here, that the goddess remembered me, cause if she doesn't, I might just end it all myself.