I'm Your Death, Alpha

NYSERA Buttoning up my old black polo shirt, I made sure that I was covering this awful number "8" mark on my chest. I adjusted the polo shirt, making sure that the mark was not visible even from a short distance. "Can you see it, Ma?" I asked my mother while pushing my chest out. She stopped zipping up her bag midway and turned to my direction, before her eyes lowered down to my chest. She gave me a small nod. "Why are you even hiding it?" she asked as she put her bag up to her shoulder. It's an old and leather one that my Papa picked up from a pile of trash. "No one will care if you have that mark in your chest. Almost everyone here has a tattoo." "I know, but the problem is this is not a tattoo," I replied, picking up my own small bag that can only fit a small umbrella and my small snack. "We don't even know where it came from." This mark has been on my chest since I was born. Papa told me that all of them were quite shocked and confused when I was pushed out of my mother's womb with this number mark. No one in the family has the same mark as me, and only my family knows that I have one. This mark started out from ten, and now that I'm 23 years old, it went down to eight. The reason? I don't know. Some things just happened, and this stupid mark changed before I knew it. Sometimes, I do wonder what will happen once this reaches zero. Will I die? Will this mark disappear? I don't know. Even my parents don't know, but they're always telling me not to let it reach zero, as they're worried that it might have a bad effect on me. Living for two decades and three years has already made me used to the mark, but sometimes, I think that maybe I would have a better life without this. A life where I wouldn't be so afraid to touch others. Mama and I walked towards our workplaces. Yesterday was the 18th birthday of Alpha's first son. Of course, there was a huge celebration that lasted for the whole day. And as one of the omegas of the pack, we need to clean up the mess of the higher werewolves than us. It's frustrating though — we weren't even invited to that grand celebration. "Oh, I'll fetch you outside the banquet hall after your work," Mama spoke as we stopped in the middle of the intersecting roads where we were going separate ways. "Wait for me, okay?" I nodded. Mama, as well as Papa, were always like this. They make sure that they can send or fetch us from my workplace or school. I wouldn't lie that I really look up to them for still loving a weird and cursed person like me. Mama smiled and reached out for a hug. I stared at her hands reaching out to me, before my eyes lowered down to mine. My hands balled into a fist, hiding my palms, before I took a step closer to her. Then, she enclosed me into a tight hug, as she gave me soft kisses on my hair. "I'm sorry that I can't hug you, Ma," my weak voice came out. "Don't apologize. I understand," she replied before patting my head and letting me go. She waved me goodbye, before I turned my back to her and headed to the banquet hall alone — with fear starting to form inside me once again. My mind was foggy and flying when I arrived at my workplace today. As expected, the whole hall is filled with trash, spoiled foods, and some fabrics from the clothes of the guests yesterday. Without wasting any time, I grabbed the cleaning materials on the side and swept everything I could. For what felt like hours, I did the same thing. Swept the floor, put the trash in the dust pan, before transferring it to the trash bin. The first floor of the hall is what I need to clean, but it's so wide that cleaning it up will take a long time. Holding the mop, my eyes wandered around. "Where's the pail?" I asked myself before walking to look for it. I was in the middle of walking when I heard a series of giggles, before the cold and soapy water fell on my skin — soaking me from head to toe. It didn't stop there. Just a second passed and something hard hit my head, making me tumble for a bit as my head started to hurt. "Oops, my bad," the high-pitched voice of a woman spoke in a condescending tone. I didn't even need to look up to see who dared to do this to me. The voice is already enough to know that it's the same person. Several footsteps coming from the stairs echoed in the whole hall. Instead of giving them an ounce of attention, I started mopping the floor using the soapy water that soaked me. I even heard their footsteps getting closer, but I was too busy to care. Besides, I just want to go home. Fighting back won't do me any good. I learned that the hard way. "You're ignoring me now, Era?" Daisy, the Gamma's youngest daughter, spoke before I felt a hand grab my hair, pulling me towards her. Whoever is holding my hair must be strong. She was able to make my body turn to face Daisy, who is standing in front of her friends. As usual, her hands were resting on her hips as she raised her eyebrows. "I'm working," I answered briefly, and only their mocking chuckles replied to me. My grip on the mop tightened, and I didn't dare to show any expression to them. "We're not blind, dumbass. I'm asking you why you're ignoring me and what you're doing. Can't your little omega brain understand that?" she pushed my head using her forefinger. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, but I didn't dare to respond or fight back. Maybe they'll get tired of me and they're going to leave me alone. Hopefully. "Daisy, she must be thinking that you're not worthy enough to answer," the person behind me made everything worse. "This omega has the guts to ignore a Gamma's daughter." Daisy's eyebrows raised higher, and now, it's her hand gripping my hair. As the Gamma's daughter, she is way stronger than the person behind me, and I can't be a match for her. "Let me tell you something, weirdo," our eyes met with intensity. "You. Should. Not. Ignore. Me.' Before I could even react, my face was shoved to the ground. The cold floor hit my face, and the soapy water entered my nose as I tried to catch my breath. All I can hear is their laughter as one's feet stomped on my back. Daisy pushed my head harder, and I could feel the water running down inside my body. I shook everything I could in my body, hoping that they would let me go before I could lose consciousness. But no matter how hard I try, they won't let go. Desperate, my hands instinctively reach out to grab Daisy's arm and the foot that's stomping me. As I buried my nails on their skin, several visions started playing right before my eyes. Painful. Blinding. July 22. Today. An arrow. Slick with blood. Piercing the center of Daisy’s forehead.