Offered to the Cursed Alpha

I heard it before I felt it.

The crack of the whip echoed through the backyard, slicing into the silence. I felt the sting of the lash on my back next, the searing pain licking me up like wildfire as I crumpled to the grass.

My vision blurred, and for a moment, I saw stars dancing before my eyes. There was a bloodcurdling scream, and it took me a few seconds to realize it had come from my throat.

"No, Derrick, please! She’s just a child," my mother's voice pleaded as tears streamed down her cheeks. Her words were filled with raw fear, a fear that had become all too familiar in our household.

I heard the sound of heavy footsteps as Derrick approached me. His breath reeked of cheap liquor and cigarettes, the stench making my stomach churn with nausea. "You're nothing but a worthless, wolf-less abomination," he spat, his words dripping with venom. His eyes gleamed with sadistic pleasure, his face twisted in a snarl.

My mother's cries grew louder, but I knew she was powerless, just like me. Derrick's iron-grip on our pack was suffocating, and there was nothing she or anyone else could do.

The memory of my father's brutal murder flashed before my eyes, the image of his lifeless body etched into my mind like a scar. It had been two years since that fateful night, and Derrick, his younger brother, had taken great pleasure in reducing me to a mere slave in my own home. And my mother, the once respected Luna of our pack? She was no more than his sex slave.

Derrick's eyes raked over me, his gaze lingering on my battered body. "You forgot to curtsy to me at breakfast. You forgot your place," he sneered, his voice filled with hatred. "You're nothing but a filthy, insignificant creature. You don't deserve to live in this house, to breathe the same air as me."

I flinched, anticipating the next strike. "I'm sorry, Derrick. It won't happen again," I begged, trying to keep my voice steady, and remembering to fix my eyes on the ground, “where I belonged”. But my words only seemed to enrage him further.

The whip descended again, and again, each strike making my body spasm. I screamed, the pain searing through me like a branding iron. My back felt like it was on fire, the flames licking at my skin with merciless intensity.

My mother's sobs grew louder, and I felt a surge of anger mixed with helplessness. Why couldn't she protect me? Why couldn't she stand up to Derrick?

But I knew the answer. Derrick's cruelty had broken her, too. He had taken everything from us – our dignity, our freedom, and our hope.

As Derrick finally stopped, I lay on the floor, my back a mass of raw, bleeding flesh. I couldn't even heal, couldn't summon the energy to mend my broken body. Without a wolf, I was no different from a weak human.

The last time my mother had helped me heal, Derrick had locked us up without food or water for three days. I'd vowed never to ask for her help again, never to put her through that pain.

Derrick's voice cut through my thoughts. "Get up, Ariana. You have a task to complete."

I struggled to my wobbly feet, my vision blurring. "W-what is it?" I stuttered, dread seeping through my veins.

"You'll be cleaning the pig pen," Derrick sneered. "You're not fit for anything else. That’s where you belong. You're not even fit to be a servant in this house."

I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I refused to cry. I wouldn't give Derrick the satisfaction.

Derrick's laughter echoed behind me. "You'll be sleeping with the pigs tonight. You're not worthy of a bed, and don’t even think your mother will help you because she’ll be too busy moaning all night to remember you,” he said with a sardonic smile that made me want to retch my gut out.

I stood in the pig pen, the stench of filth and decay overwhelming me. The pigs snorted and squealed, their beady eyes watching me in a way that made me skin crawl.

As I began to clean, my back screamed in protest. Every movement, every brushstroke, sent waves of raw pain coursing through my body. I bit my lip, trying to hold back the tears, but they prickled at the corners of my eyes like hot coals.

The pigs' enclosure was a mess, the mud and filth caked on the walls and floor. I scrubbed and scraped, my hands raw and bleeding, but the dirt seemed to cling to everything I touched. I felt like I was cleaning my own soul, trying to scrub away the shame and humiliation that Derrick had heaped upon me.

But it was no use. The pain and shame only seemed to deepen, seeping into my bones like ice.

Starved, dehydrated, and in intense pain, I stumbled and fell, and my hands sank into the mud. I couldn't do this. I couldn't keep going.

I felt like I was being devoured, consumed by the very filth I was trying to clean that now clung to my skin and every breath.

And then, the dam broke. I sobbed, great, racking cries that shook my entire body. The pigs scattered, frightened by my outburst, but I didn't care. I didn't care about anything anymore.

I curled up in the mud, my body wracked with sobs. I cried for my father, for my mother, for the life I once knew. I cried for the girl I used to be, the girl who had been broken and battered beyond recognition.

The night closed in around me, and I felt like I was drowning in my own tears, like I was being swallowed whole by the darkness.

I don't know how long I cried. Even time seemed to stand still, mocking me as my body shook with sobs.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me, and I fell into a fitful sleep. My dreams were haunted by Derrick's cruel laughter, by the crack of the whip, by the feel of the mud and filth clinging to my skin.

I woke up to the sound of my own screams, my body drenched in sweat. The pigs were watching me, their eyes gleaming in the dark. I was trapped in a life worse than a nightmare.

And as I lay there, my body aching, my heart heavy with sorrow, I knew I couldn't keep going. I couldn't keep living like this. Something had to change. Something had to break.