I Can't Get A Break

Mika

As I finally arrived home, I noticed the lights were on, signaling that my father was already inside. Feeling a sense of unease, I descended the porch steps with cautious steps.

I fumbled in my pocket for my house keys, the cool metal reassuring in my hand. Pausing at the door, I took a moment to steady my nerves, inhaling deeply before inserting the key and slowly turning the lock. With a quiet click, the door swung open, revealing my father in a state of intoxication.

"Here the hell have you been, and where is my dinner?" my father yelled. I was; before I could answer him, he took a handful of my hair, yanking my head back.

"I clearly remember telling you that I expected my dinner to be ready and waiting for me on the table when I got home. It seems that you have not followed this simple instruction, so I will have to take the time to teach you how to do it properly," he told me with frustration.

He grabbed me forcefully, making all my belongings drop into the living room floor. He then began to pull me rather harshly until we reached the door that led to the basement.

Unlocking the door, and once it was open, he pushed me down the stairs. As I tumbled down the stairs, each step seemed to last an eternity. The impact as my body finally reached the hard pavement below echoed through the basement.

I struggled to shift and turn as I heard my father's heavy footsteps ascending the stairs. The pain that engulfed me made it impossible to move, and I lay there, helpless and in agony.

My movements were excruciating and short-lived as my father pressed his shoe into my back, keeping me in place. "My father raised his voice in frustration. 'Must I remind you of your place every single time you forget?'"

He lifted me by my hair as my feet dangled in the air. I knew all too well what my father would do to me. I was taken to the chains that hung from the ceiling; he locked the chains around my waist, burning me instantly.

As I was suspended in the air, he yanked the chains, causing me to rise higher until I was at eye level with him. "Please, Father, you don't have to do this; I promise I won't do it again," I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.

"I'm cutting you some slack this time, but only because you must be at the pack house in an hour. You better start praying to the goddess because that's the only reason I'm not coming down harder on you," he spat out venomously.

As I closed my eyes, I braced myself for the worst, anticipating my father's drunken state. I knew that when he was intoxicated, he became more volatile and unpredictable.

As the seconds ticked by, there was an eerie stillness in the air, and nothing seemed to happen. "Open your eyes, murderer; I want to see the tears streaming down your face," he coldly commanded me. I did as I was told, and once I opened my eyes, bang; he struck me across my face.

My father struck me repeatedly on my face and stomach. After he was finished with me, he unceremoniously dropped me onto the chilly basement floor. "Now, prepare yourself for work. You can't afford to be late at the pack house."

Struggling to pull myself up from the floor, I knew I had to prepare for work quickly or face the consequences. My father had already left me alone as I laboriously descended the stairs.

When I returned upstairs, I hurried to grab my book bag and went to my room to change my clothes. It was a struggle, but I wore fresh garments despite the pain.

I hurriedly made my way out of the house, taking careful steps to avoid causing myself any more pain. The night air's refreshing coolness relieved my burning, sore skin as I stepped outside.

Walking up the road, I glanced at my watch to check the time. When I finally reached the front door of the pack, a wave of relief washed over me, only to be replaced by a sinking feeling as I noticed Alexa standing there.

"You're late, you dirty omega, and now you must be punished. I'm gonna tell the Alpha and Luna how late you are," Alexa said with a devilish look. "I am not late; I'm right on time," I said, standing my ground.

"The dirty omega is talking back to her superior, and now you must be dealt with to learn your place, which is beneath me," she stated. At that moment, Alexa's friends came behind her and circled me on the porch.

I found myself in a situation where there seemed to be no way out. I looked around and realized that I was vastly outnumbered and surrounded. At that moment, all I could do was endure the physical and emotional pain, wishing for the ordeal to come to an end.

I tried to move out of the way but failed, and all three girls jumped me. I fall onto the pouch floor as they kick me endlessly until they tire themselves out. "That will teach you to ever talk back to me, omega," Alexa stated.

Once Alexa and her minions had departed, I wearily rose from my seat and entered the pack house to attend to my responsibilities. As I entered the kitchen, I was greeted by a disarray of epic proportions.

Dirty dishes and scattered utensils covered every available surface, evidence of a 5 o'clock dinner. It was clear that cleaning up this mess was going to be a time-consuming endeavor, and I resigned myself to the fact that I was in for a long night.

As I walked into the kitchen, I couldn't help but notice that Alexa hadn't notified the Alpha that I was running late, although I was well aware that I wasn't.

Wanting to ensure everything was in order, I headed to the dining hall before starting my kitchen cleaning duties. I wanted to check if any additional tasks needed to be taken care of or if any more dishes required attention.

As I entered the dining hall, a chaotic scene unfolded before me. The usual pristine cleanliness was nowhere to be seen, and it was evident that the maids had neglected their duties again.

It seemed that I was the one left to deal with the aftermath. The responsibilities of cleaning up after meals are typically divided among three people, but it's become a routine for me to handle everything alone after dinner.

Walking around the dining hall, I carefully gathered all the leftover dishes and neatly stacked them to be taken to the kitchen. Upon entering the kitchen, I was taken aback to find someone there, especially at such a late hour. To my surprise, it was none other than Alpha Malcolm himself.

"What happened to your face, Mika?" he asked with a concerned look. I hesitated, not wanting to tell him the truth because I didn't think it would make any difference. "It's nothing; I just tripped and fell," I replied, trying to brush off the concern.

Malcolm may come across as the most amiable among his brothers, but despite that, he never intervenes to prevent his brothers from tormenting me. It's perplexing why he even bothered asking about what happened to me when I know he doesn't genuinely care.

I carefully gathered the leftover dishes from the dining hall and placed them in the overcrowded sink, making sure not to break anything. The clinking sounds were almost deafening in the small kitchen.

As I began to organize the dishes, stacking plates and utensils neatly, I couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at the growing orderliness.

However, as I moved around cleaning, I noticed Malcolm still present, sitting at the kitchen table, his intense gaze fixed on me. His presence made me feel uneasy, as if I was being watched.

The atmosphere in the kitchen grew increasingly tense with Malcolm's presence. Despite my best efforts to concentrate on my tasks, his penetrating gaze made me feel uncomfortably exposed.

Frustration began growing inside me, and I felt the urge to address the situation. I turned towards him, meeting his eyes, and inquired, "What brings you here? Is there something you need?"