❦Chapter 3❦

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Remember, It's Just a bad day. Not a bad life.

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“Why the hell are you late?!” was the first question that my father asked me, he didn’t even bother to ask me why my bruises increased in number or why my eyes were suddenly reddish or why my nose were puffy and red, no, he only asked me why I was late, I could feel the love.

He then landed his eyes just below my head, he glared at the hickeys that were left by Mason, and I try to hide the hickeys by using my hair.

“What have you done now slut?” he asked as his anger doubled, his words coated with pure disgust and he didn’t even try and hide the repugnance and displeasure that is written on his face.

I lowered my head, being called as a slut by your father had hurt my heart and mind, he didn’t even bother to ask for my explanation, he just assumed that I went whoring around.

I wanted to correct him and accuse Mason but who was I for him to believe? Apparently he would believe the lies Mason would probably tell him.

“I said what have you done?!” he yelled as he yanked my hand as he dragged me into a dark room and I didn’t bother to look up, but basing from the familiar grey walls that were covered with moss and the disgusting smell of the room I knew that I was in a familiar room that used to be my bedroom for some times.

We are in the cell, a place where rogues and some wolves are being placed for their misbehavior and apparently they think I am misbehaving all the time.

When I tried to eat breakfast when I wasn’t allowed to, or when I talked back at them, and going out of the pack house without their permission, such little things that came with severe punishments.

He threw me into my cell and removed the hair that was hiding the hickeys; I know that he could see the multiple hickeys that are etched on my skin, his eyes blazed with anger as he yelled again,

“Have you been sleeping around during class hours?!” how dare he ask that! I wasn’t going to stoop that low, and he clearly knows that I was virgin and didn’t he even smelled Mason’s scent all over my body? Or are his senses working that poorly?

He pinned me against the wall, which may I add has been happening to me a lot lately, as he wrapped his arm around his daughter’s throat, cutting off my air supply.

“Who was it?” he asked. I couldn’t answer him.

I was running out of breath as my lungs contracted as it lack air, my face feels hot like it was about to blow up in any moment, thankfully he loosened his grip around my neck, allowing air to enter my lungs, I inhaled the air desperately, not caring about the foul stench that I am smelling.

“I said, who was it?!” he yelled again as he tightened his grip once more, with a croaky voice I answered him,

“M-as-on” as tears start to form at the corner of my eyes before they drop down, he let go of my neck and it seemed that he was mind-linking someone and I know that he was calling Mason.

Minutes later, Mason emerged from the cell with a smirk on his face as he walked closer to where we are.

“Mason, did you do this to her?” my father asked him with a calm and collected voice, while when he would ask me a question he would either say it in a yell or in a harsh tone. I really can feel the fatherly love, father. He gestured his hands on my neck that has hickeys, hickeys that were imprinted by Mason himself. Mason feigned innocence and stupidly my father believed him like the idiot he is.

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