Unwanted

"No, please, daddy!" the young girl screamed, tears streaking down her face.

The man glared at her, warning her to keep her mouth shut. She had no choice but to remain silent as she watched the other man drag her older sister away. Her father then grabbed her, dragging her elsewhere, stating her older sister wasn’t old enough to witness a criminal’s punishment. The small girl didn’t understand what her father meant by criminal. She hadn’t done anything wrong. At least, she couldn’t think of anything that would warrant such drastic retribution, she was barely five years old for god's sake.

"Daddy, please I—"

She never got to finish, for he roughly slapped her, the sound echoing in the rain-soaked forest. Her tears mixed with the rain, which now poured down, soaking them both. His eyes were black, accusing, and angry. They frightened her, that sadistic look would always scar her, even more than those she’d soon receive from her beating.

"You are going to regret what you did." he snarled.

She whimpered softly, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion, “What did I do?”

Her innocence caused him to become even angrier. He told himself that she caused this. That she told her mother what he had done and had forced her mother to leave. He shoved away the rational side of his mind, ignoring the fact that his daughter was just a pup, that she didn’t know what he had done. He grabbed her and slapped her hard across the face. He continued hitting her until a small trickle of blood formed from a cut on her cheek. Her large, terrified eyes peered into his, pulling the guilt from his heart. However, he lost control over his emotions and wolf, sinking into the darkness as his wolf took over.

"You are a mistake," he spat as her vision went black.

I winced as I pulled myself out of bed, trying to carefully move about my room without irritating my wounds. Letting out a small breath, I dragged myself to the bathroom, dreading what today would bring. I glanced at myself in the mirror, wincing at the dark bruises on my face and the dried blood that accented where I was cut with glass. Grabbing some tweezers, I plucked small shards from my cheek, wincing from the slight sting of each removal.

After almost fifteen years, I still struggled to wrap my mind around why my family and pack turned on me. I was just shy of five years old when my father had suddenly snapped, yelling at me that it was my fault my mother left. He had told me I blurted out what he had done to her, but I didn’t know what he was talking about, and I still don’t. I never said anything to my mother about my father, but he never thought of that possibility. I was still a pup, and I was still learning to actually form most words in my speech classes. I was always supervised by the nanny when my mother couldn’t watch me. How would I possibly discover whatever crime he had committed? It wasn't my fault he did something awful and my mother found out, none of this was my fault. But no one would ever believe me, not even my older sister wanted to listen to me.

I shoved my thoughts to the back of my mind as I stepped into the shower, hissing from the pain as the cold water pelted my flesh. My body began to shake from the arctic liquid, but I tried my hardest to ignore it as I went about cleaning myself. At least, I have access to washcloths, shampoo, conditioner, and soap in this hell hole. I guess they can’t have their punching bag and maid smelling like death when visitors come over. Once I was done and dressed, I slipped on a pair of sweats and a loose shirt, not wanting anything tight against my cuts and bruises.

I made my way downstairs to begin my chores as quick as possible, my aching muscles screaming against the movement. I shuffled past pack members, my ears deaf to their usual insults. There was no use listening. I already knew what they thought of me. I didn’t need a constant reminder. Maybe if I ever gain some confidence and start talking back, I’ll actually listen to their mockery.

I looked up as my sister and her mate walked in, laughing and kissing each other, their eyes sparkling with a joy I wish I could feel. However, that joy isn’t meant for me, not in this lifetime, and I’m just going to have to deal with that. They tried making some jabs at me, but I barely heard them, refusing to accept anyone’s verbal abuse anymore. It’s the only thing I can do. I’m not nearly strong enough to fight against their physical abuse. Luckily, I’m not beaten by the entire pack, just my sister, her friends, and my father.

Can that even be considered a bright side?

I left the dining room after I had finished everything, not wanting to be around the others much longer. Carefully dodging my father as he strode past me, I walked back up to my room and collapsed onto my bed, feeling empty. My stomach growled a little, trying to tell me I needed to eat, but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything. My body should be used to it by now. I barely ate anything within the past week or so.

I laid down on my bed and stared out the window, wishing that this could change. I still held out a tiny hope that one day, they’ll realize their mistake, but I know it’s foolish to believe that. A part of me grew angry as I thought of my mother, wanting to ask her why she would leave me like that. To suffer at the hands of those she used to love.