Cold. I'm always cold, and hungry, and sore. I sit here alone in a tiny room and stare at the wall all day and wait, the only thing I can hear is muffled shouts from outside. I used to feel, and care. I've tried to escape many times but that never ends well, so after months of trying I stopped. I stopped feeling, and trying and caring.
I haven't stopped remembering though, what else am I going to do all day. I remember most of my parents faces, as time goes on they got less detailed. I remember my room, pink. I used to love pink, everything was pink. I remember my friend, we used to laugh all the time. I don't even remember the last time I have smiled. I remember story's my Dad told me. About wolves and mates. He said that when I become of age I will be able to find my mate. I haven't spoken to my wolf in years, we used to talk all the time but I can barely feel her any more. Matter of fact I haven't spoken to anyone in years. Marcus got mad when I did so I stopped.
Time passes slowly. I am huddled up in a corner with my knees close to my chest. I want this to be over. I used to have hope, hope that I could escape and get out and find my parents and be free, but now I just want it to stop. Day in and out I sit here, sometimes I get let out to clean the common area which is where I get a glimpse of the outside, the sun burns my eyes but the stars are so damn beautiful. There are about 20 other men here. Marcus is the leader and the worst out of all of them, he is the only one who hurts me so much, the others will sometimes use me but mostly push me around. My tummy growls, I pull my knees in closer and lean my head down on them and close my eyes. I fingers trail their way up and down my legs in some attempt to create friction.
Suddenly my door flings open and my head shots up. Marcus. He looks mad, I hate when he's mad. "Hello princess" He sneers. I sink even closer to the corner. Marcus has Jet black hair and various scars that run down the length of his face. He cowers towards me and bends down to eye level. I am shaking, I hate when I shake, I hate showing weakness to Marcus because he thrives on it, he gets more excited. A smile appears on his face as he pulls out his pocket knife.
...
An hour later he leaves. I lay on the floor and clutch my stomach. I wait until my room turns quiet again before I start to move. I push myself up off the floor and shuffle back until the wall touches my back. Slouching down I pull up my top to reveal fresh bruises, my fingers trace my tummy applying small amounts of pressure to see if anything is broken. Luckily everything seems fine. Blood drips down onto my shirt so I reach up to feel the scar, it runs from the top of my cheek down across my lips. I open my mouth and blood comes dribbling out. Fumbling with my shirt I tear a bit off the bottom and fold it up than place it over top of the scar. I lean back into the wall and try to ignore the pain throughout my body. This can just get added to the list of things that are broken on me. Thats all I am, a broken toy.
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Hi Guys, another chapter up. Let me know what you think. I am very new to this. 😊
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The Beta's Broken Mate
WerewolfI look back to Ben. His arms were big and his tummy toned, there were a few scars here are there. He was a fighter. He was someone who could look after themselves, and look at me, clinging onto him for dear life. Me, I'm a coward. Always been a cowa...
