Slippery Eyeballs

I collapse onto my small bed, pulling Winston close. My stomach's growling and my skin still feels gross from where Mr. Thorne touched me. Part of me wants a shower, wants to scrub away his touch and smell completely, but I can't bring myself to face mom or Willow again tonight.

"Not really in the mood to socialize tonight," I tell Winston. "So what's the plan, Winston?"

I miss Nana so much. I miss her old house. I miss the way she used to cook. Coming home from school, there was always something wonderful happening in that kitchen, food simmering on the stove or fresh bread baking away in the oven, the smell hitting me the second I walked through the front door.

I've dropped a noticeable amount of weight since moving into the pack house. I'm hungry constantly. My cousin Corbin actually told me once that I eat like a total pig. Well, guess I'm on an involuntary diet now, whether I like it or not.

Honestly, I've lost count of how many times I've gotten in trouble since arriving here. Turns out I'm terrible at staying sweet and passive when people corner me, and they just won't leave me alone. Fighting back seems to be my default setting, and it keeps landing me in trouble, on top of being perpetually hungry.

I can't stop picturing the roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, and Yorkshire pudding they had for dinner tonight. I caught the smell drifting from the dining room earlier. Now I can practically taste it just thinking about it.

Trying to distract myself from food, I dig out my acceptance letter from West Virginia University, tucked safely under my pillow. Whenever I'm feeling hopeless or down, I pull it out, and somehow it always manages to spark a little excitement in me. Nana and I picked WVU specifically because it's only a three hour drive from here. We'd planned on visiting each other constantly.

Nana had been quietly saving money for my education since I was practically a baby. I picked up evening jobs during the school year and worked full time every summer to add to that fund myself. It's not a huge amount, but between her savings, whatever financial aid I qualify for, and working part time once I'm there, I figured I'd manage just fine.

"Not really feeling social tonight," I repeat to Winston. Right on cue, my stomach lets out another loud growl. Oh, seriously? You're not the boss of me!

This is genuinely what my life has become...arguing with my own digestive system. Impossible to fall asleep when you're locked in battle with your stomach.

====================================

It's ten in the morning and I've already tackled three washrooms, which honestly feels like a real accomplishment. Sure, some people might call me slow, considering I've still got eight washrooms and twenty five bathrooms left to go, but whatever, I'm pacing myself. This entire pack house has eleven washrooms and twenty five bathrooms total that I'm responsible for cleaning twice weekly. That's been my assigned job since day one here. Laundry duty too. They tried adding cooking to the list once, but we all remember how spectacularly that ended.

Honestly, thinking about it more, I'm not exactly skilled at washroom cleaning or laundry either. Just last week an entire load came out dyed purple. Well, more of a soft lavender shade if I'm being generous. Not sure why everyone made such a huge deal about it. Tough, muscular warriors showing up to training in delicate lavender shirts? Personally, I'm into it.

If I'm being fully honest, I have to admit I'm just not good at anything expected of me around here. Worst unpaid maid in existence, probably. Practically useless.

I let out an involuntary groan and full body shudder opening the men's washroom downstairs. Seriously, the men here are absolute animals. How hard is it to aim correctly? It's not like they lack daily target practice opportunities! Ugh, I despise cleaning that particular bathroom.

Chores aren't exactly my favorite pastime, but I get that I need to contribute something since I'm living here rent free. My worst nightmare is being permanently trapped as the pack house's unpaid maid forever.

Unpaid maid. I settled on that specific phrase because it sounds significantly better than the alternative word: slave.

"There you are," Clara announces. A satisfied little smirk plays across her face as she watches me kneeling there, scrubbing away at the toilet bowl. "My father wants to see you."

Ah yes, the Beta. My uncle, or Beta Jackson Hayes, as I'm required to address him. Last time I got summoned to his office, he was breaking the news that Nana's house was being sold and I'd be relocating here permanently.

The venomous look Clara's giving me makes it obvious she hasn't forgotten about last night's incident. That gleeful sparkle in her eyes suggests she's thoroughly anticipating whatever's about to happen to me next. I toss my rubber gloves onto the floor and resist the powerful urge to flip her off as I brush past her.

I happen to know Clara has never once scrubbed a toilet in her entire life. Sons and daughters of high ranking werewolves, meaning Alphas and Betas, are exempt from that kind of chore. That work gets reserved exclusively for lowly Omegas, or humans like me.

Clara trails behind me and pulls the door shut once we're both inside Beta Jackson's office.

"Finally, you tracked her down, princess," the Beta tells his daughter. Wow, what an achievement, locating me. Truly award worthy. I can feel every set of eyes in the room fixed on me suddenly. Wait, did I actually say that part out loud?

Madison, the Beta's mate, arches her eyebrows with obvious disdain. Her mouth curls downward disapprovingly as she takes in my outfit. Right, because I'm not decked out in designer denim or some expensive top like Clara. Everything I own came from Target or Walmart. At least I'm fully clothed. Ha!

The office looks exactly how I remember it, decently sized but pretty bland overall, honestly. Beige walls, mostly oversized dark leather furniture. No artwork anywhere except a handful of family photos and a massive map of their territory, the Night Shade Pack, hanging behind his desk. The Beta himself sits behind a smooth oak table in his office chair. Mom and Willow share a love seat nearby. Madison's settled on the big leather sofa. Clara crosses the room and drops down beside her mother.

I spot Corbin sitting alone in a chair tucked into the corner, keeping his distance from everyone else. Seems intentional. The instant our eyes meet, he quickly looks away, staring intently at his black boots instead. That alone tells me I'm not going to enjoy whatever comes next.

"Take a seat, Freya," Beta Jackson instructs.

I really don't want to be here, but I straighten my shoulders anyway and reluctantly lower myself into the only open chair, positioned directly across from him.

He flips through a stack of files spread out before him, pulling several documents free. "We're dividing up my mother's assets among the family, and since she never left an official will, I'm handling everything as executor."

Wait, they're just splitting up Nana's belongings between themselves? I could have sworn Nana actually left a will somewhere. Maybe I'm misremembering.

"Since nobody could locate you beforehand, Freya, we've already agreed that all assets, including proceeds from selling her property, get divided between my sister and myself," he continues. Fine, I figured most of it would end up with him and mom anyway.

"Now, my mother also had savings tucked away in a couple different accounts. One's under her own name and doesn't hold much, but I've decided to split that evenly between all four grandchildren, Corbin, Clara, Willow, and Freya. Three hundred dollars apiece."

"There's also a joint account between her and Freya," he continues. "Freya, given you're still a minor living under our guardianship, you won't require that money. It'll go toward covering your housing, meals, and general expenses here instead."

Wait, hold on. "Wait just a second! That money was supposed to fund my education!" I shoot up out of my chair. "And for the record, I don't want to live here in the first place!"

I earned half of that money myself, through actual hard work. Babysitting since I turned twelve, shoveling snow all winter, mowing lawns for humans every summer, picking up shifts at local shops...basically hustling any way possible, year round.

"I need that money for college."

"College?" His eyebrow shoots up. Then he starts laughing. Actually laughing! His wife and Clara join right in. "You mean this?" He grabs a familiar envelope off the table. My WVU acceptance letter, complete with the entire package that came alongside it. That letter was in my room. How did he even get his hands on it?

I glance over at Willow, who just smirks back at me, then toward mom, who won't meet my eyes at all. She never really does.

"Oh, Freya. Whoever put such nonsense in your head?" Madison asks, still chuckling.

"You'll never survive out there. You've never lived anywhere besides here. The outside world is dangerous, terrifying even. You have no concept of what it's actually like," Beta Jackson adds. "You should be grateful we're generous enough to shelter and protect you within these walls."

For just a moment, doubt creeps in. It's true, I've genuinely never set foot outside Night Shade Pack territory. Is the outside world really that frightening? And if it's truly so dangerous, why would Nana have pushed me to leave? She believed in me completely. These people barely know me at all.

"I still want to go," I tell him firmly. My voice comes out sounding surprisingly steady and confident.

His eyes narrow into calculating slits before he rips the envelope, contents and all, cleanly in half and tosses it into the trash can beside his desk. No, no, no!!!!

"I already told you, you're going nowhere, end of discussion," he says, layering that commanding tone into his voice. Blood rushes straight to my head and I can hear my own pulse pounding in my ears. My hatred toward this man intensifies by the second.

"You will not be leaving this place," he adds, voice hardening further. Does he seriously not realize his little Beta mind trick doesn't work on me at all?

"You're such a Beta asshole!" The words burst out of me before I can stop them. Gasps ripple through the room. I'm about to say something else entirely when his massive hand suddenly clamps down around my throat. Crushing pressure builds against my windpipe, cutting off the oxygen I desperately try pulling in. My heart rate spikes instantly. Panicking, I start clawing frantically at his hand.

Just as suddenly as it started, it's over. I'm free again, stumbling backward onto the floor. I gasp desperately for air, wheezing loudly, my hand flying to my throat, everything spinning slightly.

"You almost killed her!" Corbin roars. I glance up to find him standing there, feet planted wide, squaring off against his own father, hands wrapped tight around his father's arm.

Beta Jackson shakes Corbin's grip off easily and turns to snarl down at me. His eyes flash dangerously, a stark reminder of exactly what these people are. Werewolves. I don't trust a single one of them, not even slightly. "Somebody clearly needs to teach this girl a lesson. She should've learned her place ages ago. My mother did a terrible job raising her, apparently." He steps away from Corbin.

I keep my eyes locked on him, tracking every movement carefully, just in case he decides to finish what he started.

He circles back around his desk and settles into his chair. A cold, calculating smile stretches across his face. He picks the torn check back up off the table and rips it apart again, casually this time. "Three hundred dollars is far too generous for someone like you."

I press my lips together tightly and clench my fists until sharp pain shoots through my palms.

"You're dismissed. We're done here," he says, waving me off entirely.

===================================

I've kept myself locked away in the dark, stuffy confines of my room since this morning. I can still feel his hand wrapped around my throat. An angry red mark circles my neck now. Even swallowing hurts.

For the very first time in my life, genuine hopelessness and helplessness wash over me completely. Not even Nana's death hit me this hard. Sure, losing the only person who ever truly loved me devastated me, but it also fueled my determination to escape this place entirely. Now I don't even have enough resources left to get myself out of here.

Well, I suppose living permanently in the pack house isn't the absolute worst outcome when...who really needs college anyway when...when... Well, at least I'm still breathing. Maybe I'll think of a better silver lining tomorrow.

Whenever people or circumstances let me down, I default to making excuses constantly. Sometimes I actually believe my own lies, sometimes I don't. Doesn't really matter either way. This time though, my shoulders just sag in complete defeat. My own mother didn't even attempt to intervene while her brother had his hands wrapped around my throat. This time, I can't manufacture a single excuse for the stranger I'm forced to call mom.

These people, no, these werewolves genuinely want to break me down completely. Every single day I've managed to hold my head up and find some reason to smile. But today, I feel absolutely defeated. I can feel the trap tightening around me.

I miss Nana more than words can express. I pull Winston, my worn out old teddy bear, tight against my chest. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm not feeling sorry for myself. Nana never raised someone weak or prone to whining. Still, tears slip down my face anyway.

Nana always insisted tears weren't a weakness at all. She used to say sometimes crying helps wash the dirt from your eyes so you can see more clearly...just don't overdo it, otherwise your eyeballs get too slick and slippery, and eventually they'll pop right out of their sockets. I rarely cry, so my eyeballs certainly aren't at risk. Tonight though, I let the tears flow freely, no holding back.