Revenge of The Blood Moon Alpha

EPISODE 02-Repercussions

Mercury POV

Clickety clackety her heels hit the floor as she entered the room. A river of golden curls flows across her slim frame. Thick-rimmed glasses shielded her bulging brown eyes. Pink lip balm applied thinly to her plump, luscious lips.

Men would do a double-take at her figure. She has all the right curves in the right places. A model career would’ve suited her if she wasn’t stuck being a high school principal.

Don’t think of me as a pervert for admiring the woman. Just that her beauty is impeccably stunning. I would describe such a woman as fabulous and flawless.

"I would hate to have to ask again, Mr. Woods. What the heck is going on in this situation?"

Mr. Woods's head snapped in my direction, daring me to tell Ms. James anything about what had just occurred. Even if I did, it would be his word against mine, and the people in this pack already dislike me. Who would then believe me?

Taking a deep breath, I told a bold lie. One I hope I’ll never have to tell again. "Principal James, nothing happened. The only thing Mr. Woods was doing was reprimanding me for my lack of concentration today in class." I told her, bowing my head, to avoid looking her in the eye.

My father's beating taught me that, even if I learned nothing else. I should look no one in the eye because I'm not worth eye contact.

Weirdly, Ms. James didn't seem to believe what I told her, which I found odd. No one ever questioned whether what I said was true or false.

Unbearable silence fell upon us for a few harrowing seconds.

In spite of the fact that she must have believed me, she dismissed me and stayed behind with Mr. Woods.

I got up quickly, not waiting to be told twice that I needed to go. Let alone before Mr. Woods refused to allow me to leave! That building had to be on fire for me to leave so fast.  

Having to walk home every day, I walked slowly but cautiously, checking behind me periodically to make sure no one was following me. Even though Ms. James came to my rescue without knowing it, I had a feeling Mr. Woods didn't appreciate her intervention.

As it turned out, I arrived home a few minutes before 5. It was not a good time for me personally.

My father was fuming. Swaying from side to side as he stood at the entrance to the packhouse, a bottle of vodka in his hand. Inevitably, he would collapse on the floor, vomit, and I'd be left to clean up the mess.

The pungent smell of alcohol was oozing from his pores even though I was still at least ten feet away. Although I wanted to cover my nostrils, I couldn't.

Does he care his pores oozed alcohol or that he could die? It's a possibility, but I seriously doubt.

How much does it matter to him if he's slowly poisoning himself with alcohol? It doesn't appear to be that way at first glance, though. He prefers to drink liquor to quench his thirst.

For the past two years, he has done nothing for this pack or the people in it. His Beta was primarily responsible for running the pack. Because my mother had passed away, Gamma David didn't care to be by his Alpha's side any longer.

I took five steps closer to the place I called home, which was now a jumble of a structure, and looked up at my father, hoping for the first time in a long time that he would acknowledge my existence.

"Do you know what time it is?" He scowled as he took another gulp of the clear liquid in his hand.

I couldn't tell the time. I didn't have access to a watch or a cell phone when I was younger. Despite this, my father wants me home before 4:30 p.m. every evening after school.

"N-no, sir," I replied with a small nod, casting my sights at the ground to my torn sneakers. 

He asked, "Who permitted you to speak?!" He yelled, stumbling a little as he did so. Another huge swig down his throat, “kiss the floor!”

He would only say those words before flogging me, leaving me with deep cuts and slashes all over my body.

Without questioning him and without hesitating to follow his orders, I complied. When I disobeyed my Alpha, I had to learn the hard way what it meant to do so.

With his bottle in one hand and his belt in the other, Alpha Magnus descended the three concrete steps that led to our home and stood behind me. The volume of his voice at this point had caused other pack members to turn their attention to us.

LASH

It ripped apart my skin by the initial stroke, which cut through two layers. I didn't hiss, whimper, or flinch because doing so would simply result in more lashes. Instead, I laid there with my arms and legs spread wide apart, welcoming my punishment.

LASH

Then came the second strike. My flesh wouldn't be as scorched by the time he finished his beatings if he was using the tail end of the belt. He was, however, using the sharp silver tip of the belt's head. As a result, not only was the belt ripping into my skin, but the silver was also burning me.

LASH

LASH

LASH

LASH

I silently prayed that someone would save me while I lay there, front-facing the ground. I hoped for someone to intervene and prevent my father from beating me for something I had no control over.

No one, however, did. After all, when has anyone ever shown enough concern for me to do something good for me?

Never.

My father drank another drink from the bottle and poured the remainder on my split skin, exhausted from his persistent lashing. Never mind the alcohol burned through the bruises, I just laid there taking it all in.

"Get in the kitchen and prepare a meal. You'd better have supper ready by 6 p.m., and make sure it's delicious, or the beating you've already taken will be nothing compared to what you're about to endure." He ordered, spitting on me before he walked away.

"Yes, Alpha," I croaked.

When I eventually got up, I didn't care about the embarrassment. As I pleaded for someone to assist in easing my pain, everyone who was still present turned away from me.

I stumbled through the front door, wincing in pain as my feet hit the floorboards. I went straight to my room when I reached the top floor. If only you could call it by that name! My bedroom was in the attic. Boxes abound, as well as enough junk to make a yard sale worthwhile. Unimportant items are thrown here until they're needed again.

When my mother was still alive, I had my own room. I slept in a pink room with frilly curtains and a comfortable bed. This included bookshelves with some of my favorite titles. Aside from that, I had my own bath. And a closet full of clothes in a variety of styles, of course.

Only a worn-out mattress and a small table remained. My father told me after my mother died that I wasn't cut out to live a comfortable life while maggots feasted on his mate.

Not even a pillow or shower were available.

My back was swollen and inflamed, but I was unable to focus on the pain. I had to get dinner ready if I didn't want to be punished again before the night was out.

I changed out of my school uniform and into a soiled sundress before heading to the kitchen to begin cooking dinner. While the omegas handled such tasks once upon a time, I was now in charge of cooking, cleaning, ironing, and laundering. That laundry wasn't washed in a washing machine, however. All of this had to be done before I went to bed at night and before I left for school in the mornings.

That night after dinner, I was too tired to do anything else, not even eat. I simply crawled up into the attic and prayed for sleep.

I had to sleep on my stomach because of the bruises on my back. I didn't bother cleaning them so they wouldn't fester and become infected.

First, they made me fun of for being distracted in class. My teacher then attempted to get me to perform s****l favors for him in exchange for a passing mark, which I declined. On top of that, my father whipped for arriving home late by a few minutes.

Well, that's a perfect way to spend my birthday.

Sigh….

After such an interesting day, I was relieved to find that I was soon soothed into a deep sleep.