Two Alphas: One Broken Girl

Chapter 2- Meet the Family

I slipped out of my room, closing the door gently and creeping through the hallway and down the stairs. I knew my parents and sister would still be asleep and I didn’t want to wake them and face them. Today of all days, I hoped to fly under the radar, but fate seemed to have different plans for me. I turned the corner at the base of the stairs heading towards the kitchen to do my work and almost walked right into my father who was uncharacteristically up early, or, more likely, he had never been to sleep. Yes, that was definitely the case. i gasped quietly and stepped back, diverting my eyes automatically to the floor. The strong odor of liquor was coming off him in angry waves.

I was trying to decide if I should apologize or try to dart around him when he snatched me by the front of my shirt, his claws extending as his wolf came forward. His hot yeasty breath made my scalp tingle and my curls shiver as I continued to stare dutifully at the floor. I had learned over the years that the sight of my eyes (Orion’s eyes) only served to infuriate my father further.

He growled low in his chest. Still not sure if it was what he wanted or if it would make my situation worse, I kept my eyes fixed on the floor and squeaked “sorry, sir.”

His growl stopped short, I held my breath in the loaded silence, “Sorry? Did you say “SORRY?”!” he spat.

I didn’t answer immediately and he gave me a sharp shake by the collar of my shirt, still in his grip. I yelped in surprise. “yes, sir.” I whispered quickly.

“And what is it, exactly that you’re sorry for?”, he hissed.

Before I could answer, he shook me again and continued, “Is it for killing my son? For leaving your own brother to die? For murdering my HEIR and the future beta?” he snarled, leaning in closer with each accusation and misting me with spittle.

“I-“

“It should have BEEN YOU!” her roared, causing the house to shake faintly.

My mouth snapped shut. I felt myself shutting down, it was a defense mechanism I had taught myself to deal with these situations.

“You make me SICK!” snarled my father, tossing me to the side. I bounced off the wall and steadied myself, scuttling away to the kitchen, praying he wouldn’t follow.

I looked over my shoulder as I exited the room in time to see my father stumbling drunkenly in the direction of the stairs.

I was certain that my other two family members wouldn’t have slept through that. I hoped my father was going to bed and I would not have to risk encountering him again. I took a breath when I stepped into the kitchen. Since my brother’s death at the age of ten, I had been given a host of chores to keep me busy and out of my parents' way. Although I was often exhausted and didn’t have a lot of time outside of school and housework, I did consider my time in the kitchen my escape. My mother, the mistress of the house, would almost never deign to enter the kitchen, my sister certainly wouldn’t step foot in there, and my father certainly did not enter female domains.

I felt safe there. I also find cooking to be a good escape from the misery of most aspects of my life. There was peace in being about to focus on the tasks at hand and tune out everything else. I got to work, mixing dough and rolling and cutting biscuits. I made my special sausage gravy with fresh sage and thyme from the windowbox garden. I poached eggs and cut fruit for a fruit salad. I got it all done efficiently and even with my dad’s outburst I was still ahead of schedule. I ate my small portion in the kitchen quickly, did the dishes and then I snuck into the downstairs bathroom for a quick shower. We did have some paid house staff and though I was responsible for cooking the breakfast and dinner, the staff would clear the breakfast and dinner table lest my family have to look at me.

Showering was another activity that I remember I used to find relaxing but the water always left my stomach in knots. I quickly towel dried my hair and gently brushed it out and left it to air dry. I wasn’t one of those girls who fussed too much over my appearance.

Back in my room, I dressed in one of my go-to school outfits, a cream linen short sleeve top with one of my only two skirts, a mint green one that hit just above my knees. I grabbed my sadly patchwork bookbag and slid into my old stretched out penny loafers that used to be Olives and darted into the hall. I made my way to the stairs and tried to flatten against and blend into the wall, but it was no use, I was spotted. My mother and sister were ascending the stairs arm in arm presumably after enjoying their breakfast. They both noticed me at the same time and my mom’s eyes narrowed as she met my gaze. I could feel Olive glaring at me.

I looked at the floor and waited for them to pass.

After a moment of staring at me, they continued up the stairs and did walk past me without a word. I exhaled and ran down the stairs and out the door and I didn’t stop running until I was a block away from the big cold house.