Twisted By The Alpha King's Pups

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-skinned body roughly and constantly kissed the hard, bone-chilling marble floor, but her right arm desperately reached for the bed. 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!” those heart-shattering words elicited the lips of Angelique's mother. As she yelled spitefully at her supposedly cruel daughter, her hands tightened around her neck while her fingers dug forcefully into the flesh of Angelique's neck. Regardless of the physical torrent of pains that circulated through her body, Angelique had only one objective in her mind – reaching for her deceased father. It was ridiculous of her 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? Fat balls of tears rolled voluntarily down her freckled cover 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 brashly 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. The 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. By now, the doctor went to attend to Angelique while her mother was being held. Mrs Clarkson's bellicosity left the nurse with no other choice than to inject a dose of tranquilizers into her system – after some seconds, she dozed off with tears persistently flowing down her face. 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. Her mother, Veronica Clarkson, went as far as prohibiting Angelique from attending the funeral of her father. 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 arose weakly from where she lay, then dragged her feet towards the short staircase. 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. A snicker crept up his thick, darkened lips as he gazed satisfactorily at Angelique – his gaze left her feeling great discomfort. “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 with her” she scoffed vilely without bothering to display any ounce of emotion. Angelique, still trying to absorb the shock, became unaware when her right arm was gripped by the short man's henchmen. “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. To everyone's amazement, she drove a knee violently into the groin of his henchmen, then rushed out of the house. While running off, Angelique unintentionally brushed past him and he lost his balance. Veronica was 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 wood. “Don't y'all dare f*****g lose her – after my s*x slave!” Salvador Cross, shouted bossily, and unhesitatingly, his two henchmen sped after Angelique.