Beaten
1025 Words
The front door creaked open, and Tracy stepped into the dimly lit house, the warm scent of simmering stew floating through the air.
Her backpack slipped from her shoulder as she carefully nudged the door closed behind her. Just then, a voice called out from the kitchen.
“Tracy?” It was her aunt, her voice slightly raised over the clattering of pots. “Oh, thank goodness you're back. Come give me a hand in here, will you?”
Tracy let out a small sigh before forcing a polite smile. “Coming, Aunt Vanessa.”
The kitchen was already a blur of movement. Her aunt, a woman in her early forties with tired eyes and a perpetual crease between her brows, was moving between the stove and the countertop, muttering under her breath. Her long deep curls were tied back in a messy bun, and she had on a faded apron with tomato stains down the front.
“You can start by chopping the peppers,” Aunt Vanessa said without looking up.
“Your cousins will be down any moment, and you know how impatient they can be.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than the kitchen door swung open, and a tall, lanky figure stepped in.
“Is dinner not ready yet?” grumbled Logan, the younger of the two sons. He was seventeen, always scowling, and never far from his phone. “I’m starving.”
Aunt Vanessa turned with a raised eyebrow. “You know, Logan, if you’re that hungry, you could always help in the kitchen.”
Logan groaned dramatically. “Oh please, you’ve got Tracy. She’s practically a staff right.”
Tracy paused, the knife still in her hand. She glanced up briefly looking over at her aunt who had this guilty look on her face, forcing a half-smile. “I don’t mind,” she said softly, even though she did and a lot.
Logan squinted at her. “Wait a sec… Were you the girl I saw earlier today? Coming down from a car that looked a lot like the Alpha's Son car.
Tracy’s heart skipped a beat. Her fingers froze over the chopping board.
No. No, he couldn't have seen her. Not that clearly.
Before she could speak, Logan waved it off. “Eh, must’ve been someone else. That’d be way too weird.”
Tracy quickly looked away, her shoulders tense. Her aunt, however, wasn’t so quick to dismiss it.
“Are you sure you weren’t with the Alpha's Son?” Vanessa asked, her voice more curious than accusing.
Tracy shook her head quickly. “No, Aunt Vanessa. I just came straight from school.”
Vanessa seemed to accept the answer, though her tone grew slightly more serious. “Good.
Because you know how important it is to wait for your mate. The last thing I want is for you to end up like me tied to a life you didn’t choose.”
Tracy gave a quiet nod. “I understand.”
The family soon gathered at the dining table, setting out dishes, utensils, and jugs of water. The atmosphere tensed like a drawn string as the front door banged open.
In came Grant, Vanessa’s husband and the very shadow that loomed over every corner of this house.
His presence filled the room like smoke heavy, suffocating. He was broad-shouldered, greasy from a long day of labor, his shirt soaked in sweat, and a permanent frown etched into his features.
Without saying a word, he marched straight to the table and sank into the chair at the head, reaching for the bowl of stew like a king unbothered by the peasants around him.
He didn’t say “thank you.” He didn’t ask how anyone’s day was. He just ate. Loudly. Grunting between bites, slurping without shame, complaining that the food lacked salt.
No one said a word.
After dinner, as usual, Tracy offered to clean up. She cleared the plates, stacking them carefully, and retreated into the kitchen with the leftover dishes and a basin of water.
The kitchen was quiet now, the only sound the trickle of running water and the occasional clink of porcelain.
She reached for a pot, and as she lifted her arm, her wet hand accidentally flicked a few droplets onto the floor behind her.
She didn’t notice the footsteps.
Until it was too late.
A low growl filled the air behind her.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Grant’s voice cracked like a whip.
Tracy turned, startled, just as his hand came down across her back.
The pain shot through her like fire. She staggered, gasping, trying to shield herself as he shouted obscenities words that blurred in her ears, all rage and no reason.
Another blow landed, and another, until she curled on the floor, shaking and silent, trying not to cry, not to scream.
In the doorway, Aunt Vanessa stood frozen, her hand clutched tightly to the edge of the wall.
Her lips trembled as she took a step forward but then stopped, helpless. Fear had tied her limbs, just as it always had.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, the storm passed. Grant spat one last insult under his breath, stepped over Tracy without another glance, and stormed out.
The kitchen fell into a heavy silence.
Vanessa finally rushed forward, dropping to her knees beside Tracy.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I should’ve I wanted to”
Tracy shook her head, forcing herself upright despite the pain. “It’s okay I deserved that,” she whispered, even though it wasn’t.
Vanessa’s hands trembled as she reached to brush a strand of hair from Tracy’s face. “No, it’s not you didn’t deserve that. You never do.”
Tracy said nothing, her eyes fixed on the soap-covered water as it swirled in the sink. The same water that had triggered the violence.
And yet, all she could think about… was how tightly her heart had clenched when Logan mentioned Anthony.
How terrified she was of being found out.
And how confused she felt about why she even cared.
- Writer
