*Warning: mention of abuse*
The morning sun peeked through the tattered old curtains, waking the teenage boy from a dreamless slumber.
He brushed his right arm against his forehead, shielding his eyes from the harshness of the evil sun.
When his crystal blue orbs adjusted themselves to the brightness he wrapped his hand around the rough silk, peeling it off of his slim frame.
He sat up from the hard mattress, stretching his sore muscles while staring at the plain room that surrounded him.
It wasn't anything too fancy.
It looked like an average room compared to the others within the pack house.
It was a safe place that protected him from the horrors that awaited him every day.
It was his own little haven, and he wanted to keep it that way.
His room was located in one of the many rooms that his pack house possessed.
It was located up in the attic, giving his room different textures that gave it some personality.
The only light that his room had was from the lone window that was stationed in the middle of the room.
There was a twin-sized bed in the far-left corner.
It came from a local thrift store and had a stain that looked like it had been there since the dawn of time.
There was also a black plastic crate that was used for milk cartons up against the wall, which the boy now used to hold his clothing.
The walls were painted an eggshell white, and the floors resembled the dark oak that everyone seems to love these days
It was truly his own, and he never complained.
He was lucky enough to have somewhere to go when times get tough.
A place where he felt welcomed.
A place that was his.
The moment his feet touched the wooden floor, it creaked underneath him.
He cursed underneath his breath as he tried to be as quiet as possible.
He walked across the small room, to the crate that held the littlest of clothing he owned.
He didn't want to wake those who lived below him.
He would get another punishment if he did, and that wouldn't be a lovely sight to see.
He thought it was stupid to be punished for something so little.
He didn't think he could take another beating from his peers.
His healing abilities can only do so much.
Sadly, half the pack's rules are targeted against him.
They want to make his life a living hell all because he was born the weakest link.
He was born an Omega, which seems like the ultimate sin that could be committed within his pack.
Mason grabbed a pair of pants that were tattered beyond repair.
They were too big on him; as a result, he had to wear a worn-out leather belt to keep them from falling.
He slipped on a plain blue shirt that had holes on it over his head.
The shirt engulfed his entire being, making the boy look like a homeless man that you see on the side of the street, begging for coinage.
It was one of the many hammy downs he got from his older brother.
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Killing Mason (BxBxB)
Werewolf(Re-write) Mason has always wished for a normal life, where he could be happy, and not have to deal with the struggles that come with being an omega. His one way ticket of happiness is snatched away from him when his ex-best friend marks him as his...
