A Slave to My Mate

This is reality

~Edited~

Chapter 3. This is reality

Valerie 

I keep my eyes to the ground when I get pushed slightly.

 I look around, careful to avoid the eyes of the pack. My eyes land on one of the girls that I am meant to fight looking at me with pity filling her eyes. 

They stand around me in a fighting pose and I do the same, squaring my shoulders and preparing my body for the hits that are coming.

Just stop for one second I forgot to say that they are teens. So seventeen and I am twenty, but even then I am treated as less than them even though I am older. Life is just unfair, remember that. 

They start to throw punches at me, I block some of them and my wolf whose name is Amyra helps me. 

She gives me a bit of her strength and combat skills, I block them and dodge the hits. Somehow I end standing while the other wolves are tired and panting.

 I stare baffled at them and at the fact that I am not panting.

 I manage to stifle a groan as one of the annoying princesses of the pack strut towards me, wiggling her hips as the eyes of the male wolves follow her. 

She looks me up and down in disgust before going to slap me, out of reflex I grab her arm and stop her from hitting me. A look of shock crosses her face before it is masked by anger. 

"You ugly mutt, you will get what you deserve you, you evil vile thing!" Emma shouts like an angry bull. 

I step back, but a crowd of people prevent me from escaping. I feel like a small fawn trapped with a large lioness prowling towards me, my body trembles with fear and I cower away from girl storming towards me.

Emma grabs my hair and pulls me up before slamming me down in the dirt, she then kicks me and punches me in the face as two of her goons hold me. 

She dusts of her hands and leaves me on the ground, I shiver as a breeze sweeps the ground and goose bumps rise on my skin. 

I stand after five peaceful almost serene minutes, of laying on the hard, dusty ground.

 I shake the dirt of me like a dog shaking its fur and walk towards the pack house slowly. It takes me fifteen long, tiring minutes to get to the pack house.

Quickly scurrying up the stairs I reach my room and wash my face. My eyes then drift to the clock which reads  11:56 am, I curse silently as I hurry downstairs. 

I grab bread out, meat, cheese, lettuce and start making sandwiches, after that I cook some chicken strips and chips and then make a big salad. 

 As soon as the omegas come to serve the food I step out of the kitchen, creeping quietly up the stairs and going into my room. 

After lunch I have more chores to do. I have to clean, then do some errands, like shopping and laundry and then make dinner.

 After all of that a beating and the wonderful sleepy world of dream land can come and take me away from this place. Wait, no I forgot it can't I get night terrors because of the abuse and trauma.

That is all one day and that would be counted as a good day if it ends up going smoothly, just thinking about a tough one makes me tired and exhausted.

 My head flops down on the hard mattress and my mind wanders to thought on anything else apart from my actual life.

 I think about what life might have been if I wasn't sold, if I had a mate or if they wanted me. However,  the thing with my fantasies is they always land with me being some sort of slave, to my family or mate.