Bonded To Her Triple Alphas

20

20

Kaya’s POV.

My eyes snap open as a whelp escapes my lips, and I jerk up to a sitting position. I find myself in a room that I don’t think I recognize until I hear someone shuffle next to me, and my face darts there.

Seeing Melissa, I tell myself to calm down, realizing that I’m in her room and not elsewhere. I’m not in front of Kyle anymore.

While comatose, my brain keeps relieving the moment, putting me in an endless turmoil of pain. As if that isn’t satiating enough, I feel like I spent the last decades of my life on a rollercoaster of agony.

My voice comes out as a croak when I call her. “Melissa.”

“Kaya, are you okay?”

My throat hurts from not having taken water since I woke up today, and judging from the absence of light behind the closed curtains, I know it’s night already.

“I...” My voice caught up in my throat, wincing at a pain in my shoulders. I almost forgot that. “My shoulder...” It’s fixated with plaster, but I can still feel numb there, more like I can barely move it.

“The damage took quite a lot of effect, but I’m sure it should start healing properly in about a week or so. You should be fine in a month or more.” Melissa enlists the fate of my shoulder, and that shouldn’t make me paranoid.

Like the rising tide in an ocean, unexpected and unforeseen, my tears drop. My lips are opened, and I stare ahead at nothing.

Slowly, my cries rose, with my throat awfully releasing hefty brisky hiccups.

As though Melissa doesn’t understand my pain, I catch a look of perplexion there, and knowing I can’t take it anymore, I shift towards her and use my still-functioning arm to pull her close.

Resting my jaw on her shoulder, I close my eyes, uncaring how weak and fragile I seem right now. “I can’t take it anymore, Melissa. Please, I can’t. I know I sounded strong when I first came here, but I never thought such cruelty as I’ve faced here was ever real.”

In-between stiffled words that kept getting hung every few seconds, such that I am unable to keep up to one simple sentence without hitching or stuttering, I continue, “I just want to be done with all of these. Please, help me. Kill me...please.”

Unlocking myself from her, I look into her eyes and grab her hands, placing them on my heart. “There’s nothing there anymore; no more fighting. Just end this for me.”

“No...” Calmly and objectively, like she has decided to pick her words carefully, she talks. “You cannot die. You don’t deserve that.” I see genuine fairness in her eyes, but it doesn’t matter.

It won’t stop my pain.

“I swear, I can’t. It’s too much. The suffering is endless; it’s everyday. I just want to die.” My voice screeches off there into tears that won’t stop today if she doesn’t put an end to my life for me.

“I cannot be a murderer. You have no right to push that on me.” As she speaks, not agreeing with my wants, I cry more, letting all my guards down. I can barely see her through wet lashes and eyes brimmed with tears, reddened from the sense that I know I can’t live another day seeing those triplets.

“I’m begging. I swear, I can’t take it. I’m not... I really can’t. It’s too much. The pain is too much. I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”

My memory flashes back to being an object that they use like some lifeless material, or how they control my feelings, my senses, my wants or needs, how I eat just once a day, how I cannot think for myself, how I haven’t left this place in weeks now, and how I’ve been forced to follow some unfair rules.