A Toy Of The Alpha King

She couldn't breathe. The firm hands that encircled her neck wouldn't permit the free flow of air into her lungs – the experience was undeniably painful. Especially when the one choking you to death was your very own mother, yet Angelique focused all her attention on the lifeless figure on the hospital bed. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dim hospital light as her body slumped against the cold, hard marble floor while, the smell of disinfectant filling her nostrils. If only she could get to him, or rather call his name, would her dead father come back to life and save her from the heartless being she calls a mother? Tears amassed rapidly in those teal-green eyes of hers and soon, Angelique sniveled pitifully in pain. “You killed your father! You took my only source of joy from me, Angelique! Die! You're not supposed to live after taking my sole source of happiness!” Veronica's words cut deep, each one a fresh wound that made her heart ache and her tears fall harder. As she yelled spitefully at her supposedly cruel daughter, her hands tightened around her neck while her fingers dug forcefully into her flesh. Regardless of the physical torrent of pains that circulated through her body, she had only one objective in her mind – reaching for her deceased father. It was ridiculous of Angelique to desire the aid of someone already dead, but what choice did she have? Before he left her alone in this callous world, he was the only person who saw her as a living being. Her father cared, loved, adored, and cherished her, yet he was gone now. Who would Angelique embrace during her lowest times? Her tears formed thick, heavy droplets then poured voluntarily down her freckle-covered cheeks, and soon her lips parted in an attempt to inhale air. It was impossible with her mother's fierce grip on her throat and soon, those beauteous eyes of Angelique's rolled backward – she was about to pass out. Fortunately, the door to the ward got pushed aside as two doctors and a nurse came rushing in. “Please Mrs. Clarkson, don't! She's your only daughter” The nurse went sharply to the middle-aged woman before she tried to separate her from an almost unconscious Angelique. “Get your hands off me! Let me rid the world of this curse! Let me do it. She killed Chris! She killed my husband!” Mrs. Clarkson shouted tearfully while struggling aggressively with the nurse. A doctor had to assist before she got preyed vigorously away from Angelique who lay on the floor. Her neck was freakishly red, and her hands were wrapped feebly around it as she gasped breathlessly. Meanwhile, a doctor tended to Angelique's injuries while her mother was restrained. The nurse injected a dose of tranquilizers into her mother's system, sedating her aggressive outburst. The ward was filled with low sobs and gasps from Angelique as she remained on the floor, crying heartbreakingly. In a way, she killed her father. Perhaps if she hadn't demanded sweets in the middle of the night some days ago, he'd be alive. He wouldn't have been attacked by numerous strange rouges. Now, her mother's hatred simply escalated drastically – oh, how ruined Angelique had gotten herself. ★ Two weeks – yes, that was how much time had sped in Angelique's life after the death of her father. About how life has been since then? Well, it was awful – sadly awful. The anger her mother felt towards her was something one would think was going to disperse in a day or two. Then again, that was exclusively assumptions, not reality. Veronica Clarkson forbade her from attending her father's funeral - the order was a cruel twist of a flaming knife, burning her soul. On the day of his funeral, Angelique was expected to be by his gravestone as she'd pour out her last thoughts to him, yet that never transpired. Instead, her day was spent in the cramped apartment she and her mother shared, carrying out the countless chores assigned to her. Despite how hellish they seemed, Angelique fulfilled it without uttering a word of dissent. She wanted the forgiveness of her mother – no, she desired love from her mother. Even if it was for just a single day, then that was enough. It wasn't too absurd a request for a child to crave the love of their parents, right? Now that her father was gone, her mother was bound to triple her workload, yet Angelique would readily take it all. Today, in the poorly illuminated shithole she considered a bedroom, Angelique lay on a wooden bench – that was her bed. It was nighttime; she could tell from the low hoots of an owl and the serenity of the environment. While she sat upright, a hungry growl erupted from her stomach – oh, how could she forget? Roughly, it had been three days since she last had a meal. Angelique slowly got up, her legs trembling as she made her way to the stairs. Although she was fairly lanky, the stairs didn't fail to give out a crack once she stepped on them. “I need to make dinner,” Angelique muttered almost inaudibly – she found it hard to speak audibly due to how weak she was. Could she go another day without having a meal? “I pray I don't die in my sleep” Angelique hushed as her hand reached for the doorknob of the basement. Normally, the sight of worn-out chairs and her knitting mother was the only thing she'd beheld, but today, it was different. Today Angelique froze on the spot as her eyes gaped surprisingly at the three dangerous-looking men and her mother who had a deep frown on her face. Strangely enough, they all turned their attention to Angelique, and then Mrs. Clarkson sighed. “That's her. She's all yours” she spoke nonchalantly before making her way towards a worn-out cushion. Among the men was one who appeared to be the leader; a short man with a deep scar running through his left cheek. He gazed at Angelique, a snicker spreading across his lips, revealing a hint of satisfaction – his leer urged her skin to crawl. “You're a lousy descriptor, Nica. Your daughter's f*****g beautiful – you sure about letting her be my s*x slave?” Angelique's jaw dropped after he made that statement – what was he talking about? s*x slave? Who was going to become a s*x slave? Her? “Mother….” sharply, she stared eagerly at her mother – would she sell her off as something so distasteful? Yes, Angelique wasn't the best daughter, but did she deserve such treatment? However, her mother didn't seem to care about the shocked yet disappointed expression on Angelique's face. “Just get her out of my sight! You've already paid me, do whatever you please” she scoffed without bothering to display any ounce of emotion. Angelique's eyes widened as the henchman's grip closed around her arm, the shock still reverberating through her mind." “Let…let go of me” she fumbled with her words with already tearful eyes – she was really in pain. How wicked was her mother? “Take her to the car. Night's fast approaching” the short man scrawled authoritatively before he turned to leave. Angelique, although dismayed, wasn't going to swing along with such a plan. With a surge of adrenaline, she drove her knee into the groin of the nearest henchman and he immediately doubled over in pain. Unhesitatingly, she turned and sprinted out of the house while her heart raced and her feet pounded against the floor. While running off, she unintentionally brushed past Salvador and he lost his balance. Still, Veronica remained uninterested as she focused on knitting away – Angelique wasn't her problem anymore. By the time he regained balance, Angelique was already dashing into the forest. “Don't y'all dare f*****g lose her – after my s*x slave!” Salvador Cross, shouted bossily, and rapidly, his two henchmen sped after Angelique.