Claimed by the Alpha

My phone blows up as I adjust to the light streaming in from the window. I didn't expect anyone to call me this early in the morning, but whoever was calling me must have something important to say. Without thinking anymore, I try to lift my lids and fish for my phone in my pockets. My hands reach for it, and I pull it up in front of my face, and the name on the screen is my Uncle Jean. I let my eyes adjust to the morning light as I yawn and stretch into the lying position with the phone in my hands. I accept the call as soon as I see his name blinking on the screen for a minute too long."How are you feeling today, Neville?" he asks. "Are things okay with you?"I twist and turn abruptly, and the pain shoots from all sides, and the pain is so sharp that I close my eyes shut. I couldn't realise that I was in this much pain. Then, I softly open my eyes again and try to remember how I got here last night, and then it all comes back to me at the mercurial speed of time.The news, the par

NEVILLEMy phone rings again after I get off the plane with my baggage strolling behind me to get through sweaty bodies to baggage claim. I decline the call as I make my way through customs. They do a quick passport check and then stamp my passport as I walk around the busy airport trying to get out of it and head to my car brought here by one of my core trusted house staff. Uncle Jean texted me earlier, telling me that my driver was waiting for me outside the front main exit.My phone rings again when I locate my car, and my driver opens the door for me, and I slide inside the back seat.I check my phone screen to see who’s calling me now. It’s an unknown number. Nobody knows except my close family and staff that I’m heading back home. Arnold, my driver, adjusts the front mirror and then puts the car to drive.He speaks first when I silence my phone and pocket it.“I’m extremely sorry, Neville.” Arnold takes a hard look at me through the mirror that's aimed at the backseat. “I can’t

AMELIAWhat is wrong with him?Was I too harsh?Maybe I was.I shouldn't have said those things to him.I don't know what came over me."Get those frozen foods in aisle five cleaned up," Larry speaks into the small bluetooth that he has us wear at work. I have gotten so used to zoning out his voice half of the time I don't even realise I'm wearing it. "Why don't you take this, Amelia?"I roll my eyes.Of course, I would. The supervisor guy wants to punish me for what I said to the customer that came in earlier. What was I supposed to say anyway when the customer was the one who came in my way? I haven't gone out of my way to make things harder for anyone other than me since I started to work here.Argh.I sure hate working here.The things I make myself do for money.At least that guy wasn't all that bad.Maybe I had him pegged all wrong.He could have acted way worse, but he didn't.He was non-threatening in every way possible, but I still had to be cautious in my decisions."Clean u

NEVILLE The pain stays in my heart. I don't care for the funeral much, even though the pastor wants me to commit to my dad's final services. As much as he knew my father, he always told him he wanted the last day of his life on earth to be a celebration. My father's idea of a wake was something that resembles a happy gathering: being surrounded by close family and friends and bade farewell to all that he did on this earth with good music. Whenever my dad would bring up something like passing away in his conversations--I would mostly mum him out. We would never willingly discuss how things would be like when he was gone. My dad thought he knew the happy wake was the best choice, and he confided in our pastor about how things should look like after he was gone. So now I'm dealing with this unknown man here in my house who is trying to realise my dad's last wishes. According to the pastor who won't leave me alone, my dad was a pure man at heart. The man that the pastor knew wanted us t

NEVILLEAnother series of knocks at my door manifests itself, and I hide the envelope that my dad left me inside one of the old books in my bookcase. It's a safe space, and I know no one will look for it there. Part of me is dying to read what's inside, but part of me isn't ready to face what my dad wants to tell me. It has to be something important. I know it.I release my head from my hands as I get up from the edge of the bed and make my way to the door.Who wants to talk to me now?"Who is it?""Son, you can't hide in your room for the entire night." It's Jean's voice that I can hear as clear as day. "There are so many people downstairs who want to pay their respects to you and your family. And they can't do it if you are sitting scared inside the comfort of your room for the rest of the night." His voice is soft and mellow. "Some of them have driven hours just to see you because they aren't sure if they will be seeing you again.""I'm not going anywhere, Jean." My breath comes ou