Page 2 of Knot So Broken

A part of me longs for that connection. The Omega inside of me screams for a pack. But, no one will want me now.

Not the Omega who can’t do anything right. The one covered in marks because she is unable to listen to basic instructions.

The defective one. The broken one.

The reasonable side of me has come to terms with the fact that I will never find my place. That this will forever be my destiny.

Yet, I can’t stop the thoughts that linger in my mind late at night curled up on my cot. The faceless Alphas that I pray will come and take me from the world I am trapped in. I dream of Alphas that will look past the bruising, that will see who I am underneath the purple that mars my skin.

But I don’t know if that would even be achievable. Even if I was blessed to find my scent matches, would I even have a personality under the years of abuse? Or has every hit taken away every part of me already?

Is there only a bare shell left?

My father lays one more firm kick into my ribs and I am forced to bite the inside of my cheek so I don’t make a sound. Not turning up to school isn’t an option. Failure isn’t an option.

“Get out of my sight,” he says after a moment as I’m forced to swallow the blood that fills my mouth.

On shaky legs, I slowly begin to stand. I bite down on the already open wound in my mouth, the metallic taste of my blood filling my mouth. It distracts me from the pain in my ribs at least.

I grab my bag off the floor from where I was forced to drop it after being shoved just as I had taken a step off the stairs.

I can’t even remember what this punishment was for. Did I walk too heavily down the stairs? It wouldn’t be the first time he has considered that enough of a violation to discipline me.

I’ve learnt over the years on where to walk so I don’t make as much noise. The third step has a slight squeak in it. So does the fifteenth.

My body screams at me as I haul the backpack onto my shoulders. Once the weight is settled on my shoulders, I tuck my head down and make a beeline for the door.Head down. Eyes to the floor. Light steps.

I count my blessings that I don’t make another mistake as I quietly open the front door and shut it silently behind me.

My steps are rushed as I move down the sidewalk.

I can’t be late. Not for my first day.

The walk to Ridgeview Academy takes a good thirty minutes each morning. I only have twenty minutes to get there thanks to my encounter this morning. Each step takes the breath out of me but I force myself to keep moving.

I know my father has contacts at the school that keep an eye on me, and will report back to him, every single indiscretion.

I’ve tried to pinpoint who it could be but no one has ever stood out to me. Hence why it's better to keep to myself completely.

No distractions means less discipline.

At this stage I would doanythingfor a bit of reprieve.

I go to cross the street as I near the gates of the school, but stumble back as a blacked out SUV darts out in front of me.

My hands break my fall and I feel the broken pieces of my ribs grind. I blow out a breath as I look at the retreating car.

Not once do the taillights break, nor does the car slow down.

I roll my eyes as I pull myself up off the ground, dusting the dirt and leaves that now cover my jeans.

Filth isn’t tolerated. It would be damaging for my father’s daughter to be seen in anything but the best.

I curse the driver of the car for the beat down in my future. No doubt the bird in my father’s ear will hear about this moment by this afternoon. There goes my hope of reprieve. The bell rings just as I pull open the door to the school.

Back when my Mom was still alive, I dreamt of what my schooling years might have looked like. What girl didn’t hope of becoming high school sweethearts with their pack? Makeout sessions under the bleachers during recess. Love letters tucked away in lockers. Gentle kisses on the cheek after being dropped at your class.

That girl was stupid. That was never going to be my life.

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