Fated To The Exiled Alphas

Caramel's Pov "I'll kill you, you little b***h!" His voice ripped through the flimsy wood of my bedroom door, already half way broken from countless previous assaults. The sound was a familiar prelude to pain, a symphony that always ended with me curled in a ball, wishing I could just... disappear. He lunged at me again, his heavy belt whistling through the air as I flinched, scrambling back, but there was nowhere to go. Just then the lash of the belt landed on my back, drawing out a wince from me. "Worthless! Ungrateful little b***h!" Each word was punctuated by a lash, each lash a fresh wave of agony. I tried to fight using my hands to push against his chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain. He was too big and way too strong, fueled by the cheap whiskey and a bottomless well of cruelty. He pinned me down on the threadbare rug crushing me with his weight. "Please," I whimpered, lost in the suffocating silence of the house. Aunt Benny and Bernice were out, probably at some pack gathering, pretending to be a normal family. No one would hear. No one ever did. My screams were absorbed by the darkness, leaving me utterly, terrifyingly alone. He kept raining insults on me, a torrent of venom that stripped away what little dignity I had left. My mind screamed, I don't want to do this! Heaven knows, I don't want to do this! But my body, battered and bruised, had learned to go limp, to endure. It was the third time this week. When it was finally over, he rolled off me with a satisfied sigh before he stumbled out, leaving the door gaping open. I lay there as tears flowed freely from my eyes while my body ached, every inch of me screaming in protest, but it was the emptiness inside, the hollowed-out space where hope used to live, that hurt the most and just like the other nights.. I cried myself to sleep. The next morning, the sun felt like a joke, mocking the darkness that still clung to me. I couldn't take it anymore. I had to tell someone. Aunt Benny. She was a woman, she would understand. She had to. I found her in the kitchen, humming as she stirred a pot on the stove. I took a deep breath before approaching her. "Aunt Benny..." I started, but got no response or even an acknowledgement, but I continued anyways. "I've been meaning to tell you something—" I paused when she did, surprisingly she turned her head to me so I continued, my voice a shaky whisper. "Aunt Benny... Uncle Debriel... last night...h—he r***d me." The words hung in the air, suddenly her eyes, usually so cold, now narrowed into slits of pure fury. "I swear it...its the third time—" Before I could even finish, her hand shot out, a slap to my face that snapped my head back, the force of it making my ears ring. "Don't you dare!" she hissed, pointing at me "Don't you ever lie about my husband! He would never!" Her denial was so vehement, so immediate, it was almost as if she knew. As if she'd always known. Then Bernice walked in, drawn by the commotion. Her eyes, usually filled with disdain, now gleamed with a malicious satisfaction as she took in my tear-streaked face and Aunt Benny's rage. "What's going on?" she asked, but her smirk told me she already had an idea. "This little liar is accusing your father of touching her," Aunt Benny spat. Bernice's smirk widened. "Oh, is she now?" And then, without another word, she joined her mother. The first blow landed on my stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Then another, and another. I curled to a ball letting them because what else can an Omega do to defend herself... nothing. Night came again and with it, the familiar dread in my stomach. I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs, the way he always paused outside my door, like a predator savoring its prey. My breath hitched but his time, though, something was different. The despair was still there, but beneath it, a tiny, flickering ember of defiance had ignited. Since no one would hear my plea, no one would help me. Not Aunt Benny, not Bernice, not anyone in this pack who saw me as nothing more than a human, a weak Omega, an outcast. Fine. If they wouldn't help me, I'd help myself. I'd show them. He slammed the door open as his eyes, bloodshot and glazed with liquor, found mine. That familiar sneer twisted his lips. "Thought you could tell tales, did you, little b***h?" He lunged, grabbing my arm and slamming me against the wall. My hand, my hands were shaking as I slipped into my pocket, my fingers closing around the penknife I'd found weeks ago, for this same purpose but never the guts. He was still ranting, his face inches from mine, the stench of him overwhelming my nostrils. "You're mine, you hear me? Always have been, always will be." "No..." I spat at his face. "No?" He chuckled darkly, forcing my chin up to look at him. Before he could say anything else, with a surge of adrenaline that burned through my veins, I brought my hand up. I didn't aim, didn't think, I just stabbed his neck. His eyes widened, a choked gasp escaping his lips as he stumbled back, clutching his neck. Blood bloomed against his fingers. He looked at me, not with anger, but with a stunned, almost comical disbelief. How dare I? I pulled the knife out, and then, something snapped. The fear, the pain, the years of silent suffering – it all came into a primal fury. I lunged forward and plunged the knife in again. And again. And again. He gurgled, a sickening, wet sound, and then his eyes rolled back before his body went limp, sliding down the wall, leaving a smear of red. He hit the floor with a thud, a lifeless heap. Then silence. My chest heaved, as my breathing came in ragged gasps. The knife, still clutched in my hand, dripped with so much red. He was dead. Oh God. Oh God, oh God, oh God. What had I done? My hands were shaking so violently I thought I'd drop the knife. My stomach churned, bile rising in my throat. This wasn't like the dreams, the fantasies of escape. This was real and he was gone. And I... I was a killer. A cold, creeping dread coiled in my gut, tighter than any fear I'd ever known because if they'd find out. Aunt Benny. Bernice. The pack. They'd kill me. Or worse. They'd make me pay. This... this would cost me my head.