His Broken Mate

Hi, I'm Elaina, but nobody ever addresses me with my actual name. Not by a nickname either. Think of any curse word you can call someone. A fuck up. A whore, a slut, a bitch. Think of what you might call the worst person you've ever met or heard of. A disgrace, a mistake, a worthless waste of space, anything really works. Have you thought of some disgusting name yet? Yup, that's what everyone who knows me calls me.

I'm the lowest socially ranking member in my entire werewolf pack. Technically I should be the highest, as the daughter of the alpha, but nobody treats me as such. I'm regarded as lower than an omega, the lowest rank, and even they aren't treated wonderfully, but they're practically royalty compared to me. I'm seen as less than dirt, less than trash, and am treated as such.

I've been the pack's slave for years, often times doubling as their living punching bag. Most of the pack, even my ex-friends, despise me. Some members pity me, but know better than to try to help me or even be seen talking with me. Not all of my fellow pack members beat me, but those that do are ruthless and cruel. Some of the things my pack, people that used to consider me family, have done are so disgustingly violent, I'm shocked they could do them to another living being. My body is littered with permanent marks of hate, some of my own doing, and my mind is broken, full of awful memories and painful secrets.

I don't want to get close to anyone, because I know I will only get hurt. My only hope is that some day I'll be able to run away and live in solitude. Of course, being beaten to death doesn't sound too bad either. Death doesn't even begin to compare to the torture I've been through. Death would be like freedom from this hell. My life is just a never-ending streak of pain. There's just no hope for my future. No hope for me.