A Night with Alpha, My Second Chance

The cold was piercing, a chill running up my spine as my back slammed violently against the wall. Fear, a beast I didn't know, took hold of my chest. I was cornered. My eyes, fixed on the figure standing in front of me, reminded me that there was no escape. I always saw myself as a warrior. In the twenty years I lived alone with my grandmother, I was hardened by a thousand battles. People saw me as a savage, a fearless tomboy, and I was. I didn't fear bullies, I didn't hide from injustice. I loved to defend the weak, to speak up when I knew I was right. Never in my life had I cowered before anyone. But this was no ordinary bully. I could feel my knees trembling, my chest heaving for air. It wasn't just the brutality in his gaze; it was his sharp fangs, his thick claws, and a pair of green eyes that glowed in the darkness. They gave me reason to pray to all the saints. But what chilled my blood the most were the scars: old and fresh, decorating his naked torso as if they were trophies from his battles. “Please don't kill me...” I begged, my voice barely a whisper that was lost in the air. He wasn't listening to me. His eyes, now abysmal black, confirmed that he was not in control of himself. He roared and raised his hand. My eyes widened, ready to close before the imminent blow. “What the hell...?” I muttered. My gaze fell to the floor, where a metal comb slipped from my fingers. I blinked, slowly returning to reality. I was standing in front of the mirror, alive and without a single scratch. My brown locks, still damp from the shower, fell over a clean shirt and simple pants. I stared at my reflection, processing what had just happened. The cold darkness of my nightmare had dissipated, replaced by the warm sunlight streaming through my bedroom window. There was no one else but me. I rubbed my face, trying to shake off the terror. That nightmare again! For three days in a row now, I've been waking up drenched in sweat, trembling as I remember that terrifying scene. It felt so real that I found myself lost in my thoughts. The strangest thing was that when I came back to my senses, the image of that man faded away. I couldn't remember his face, only the fear he inspired in me. “Come out of there, Selene!” my grandmother shouted from the kitchen. I shook my head, wanting to erase that memory. I bent down to pick up the comb and looked at myself in the mirror again. My grandmother always told me that I inherited my mother's eyes: almond-shaped, dark brown and intense. My hair, almost black, was from my father, as my mother was blonde. I never knew them, I never even saw a photograph. But in my mind, I imagined them as the perfect couple. “Because you are so strong and beautiful, Selene,” my grandmother's voice echoed. A bitter smile crossed my lips. Those words felt so heavy. I tied my hair back in a messy ponytail and grabbed my backpack. I left the room, walking angrily to the kitchen. There I found my grandmother, Elly, setting the table. Our house wasn't big; the living room and kitchen were in the same space, but it was a home that had withstood disasters and the passage of time. We didn't have a permanent address, but miraculously, we had stayed here for the last two years. Our life was hard, but peaceful. And yet, I wanted to give my grandmother something better. A better life. That was why I worked so hard. “Good morning, Grandma!” I greeted her with a bright smile, looking into her eyes. “I told you to wait for me, I was going to make breakfast.” “Come on, Selene. I'm still as strong as you are,” she replied with a frown. Her gaze fell on my clothes: a simple white shirt and pants instead of my school uniform. “Aren't you going to school today?” My smile didn't falter, but I felt a knot in my stomach. I knew she already knew my reasons. Even though she hadn't said a word, her gaze said it all. Of course, here is the continuation of the story narrated by Selene, with the same dramatic tone and emotional details. Grandma's stern, worried look pulled me out of my thoughts. “Stop looking for a part-time job, Selene! Just focus on your studies!” she ordered, her voice like a whip. “What about our needs, Grandma? Who will take care of them?” She interrupted me, “I've got everything covered.” How? The question stuck in my throat. How could we live without her working? I had so many questions, but part of me refused to ask them. We had known each other all our lives, but sometimes I felt there was a wall between us, a side of her that she wouldn't let me see. The sound of a sudden cough made me blink. My grandmother put her hand to her mouth, turning her back to me. “What—what's wrong?” I asked, trying to get closer. She moved away and headed for the sink, trying to hide her hand. But I saw it. I saw a circle of blood on my grandmother's palm. And the strangest thing was the smell. A soft, sweet aroma reached my nose, causing a ravenous thirst. My throat went dry and my stomach churned in a way I couldn't understand. In a desperate attempt to quench that strange thirst, I grabbed a glass of water and drank it in one gulp. I felt guilty, pathetic. Instead of rushing to help her, I only cared about quenching an unfamiliar thirst. I stood motionless, watching her cough more blood into the sink. the sound of the running water drowned out the moans of her suffering. I bit my lip, clenching my fists, doing nothing. When she turned off the tap, silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by her heavy breathing and the loud beating of my heart. “Grandma...” I whispered. “I'm fine, Selene. Go back to your seat and eat. Put on your uniform and go to school.” She turned her back on me and left, the door to her room closing with a click that echoed in the air. “Miss Ferrer! Are you listening to me?” I swallowed hard, my eyes widened, and I snapped back to reality. I looked up at the restaurant manager. I couldn't believe it! I was desperate for a job, and I was ruining it. Damn it, Selene! “I-I'm sorry, sir. I was just...” The man sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. “I'm sorry, Miss Ferrer, but I can't hire you. You need to learn to separate your problems from your work. I can't allow an employee to be distracted in front of my customers!” “Please, give me another chance...” I begged, but his face was set in stone. “I'm very sorry,” he repeated. His voice was so final that I felt a punch in the stomach. I clenched my fists, angry at myself. I tried to hold back the tears, gritting my teeth as I stood up. I left the office with a heavy heart. What am I doing? If only I had paid attention, I would have gotten the job. My mind kept replaying the image of my grandmother coughing up blood. She's sick. And I don't know what to do. No, I do know. That's why I was here. To earn money for her medicine. But I blew my one chance. It was a miracle that manager even gave me an interview with no experience, but I ruined it. And now, I'm back to square one. I walked aimlessly, the weight of guilt and frustration crushing me. I sat down on an empty bench in a nearby park, feeling like I had failed at everything. I was supposed to be looking for a job, which is why I skipped school, even though Grandma forbade me to. But my mind was so clouded that I couldn't do anything productive. I felt lost. Damn it.