I pull the bloody camisole off my body and wince at the sharp pain that travels down my back. I suck in a sharp breath as water trickles down my body slowly. The training was double hard today and I'm having the constant feeling that rather than getting trained, I'm being punished for something.
I turn the water up faster and turn my face up to the water rush. I do this more often now, seeing how far I can stay there without filling my brain with water. It's the only way I can experience the sensation of drowning without stepping in a pool. An attempt to do that will lead to more beatings disguised as training to heal my mind. I guess physical beatings transcend the soul. One, Two, Three, Four, I gasp as I pull my head out from under the shower.
My mind travels to Justin and his roommate. Justin was cute, sure but there was something about that his roommate that pulled me in. I could almost smell the wildness within his soul and he definitely looked like he was hiding things. I run my hand over the wound I got from last week's training and chuckle wryly, remembering Justin's reaction when he felt the spot. I had to make up a wild story of fighting wild animals as a joke. When he persisted, I had to shut him up with a kiss. One, Two, Three, Four, Gasp.
I can feel that restlessness that comes when I'm getting unraveled slowly. The last time, I became a bare reel was when I almost died in the pool, my mind throwing my body into ice-cold water and finding peace in it. However, that led me to the therapist's office, so jumping into the stream or pool was out of it this time. One, Two, Three, Four, Gasp.
Stepdad claims it's constant training so I can carry on the image of our line. I thought everyone was over the stupid mission of looking for deserters who left when that bastard, Flock came on as head of the pack. I call him head of the pack because he doesn't deserve to be called an Alpha. Stepdad has given up on hitting me for saying that. Mum would complain, but she can't complain if I get hit during training. So we have to keep "training" to keep up the family legacy. One, Two, Three, Four,...GASP.
Even drowning won't do. I wonder what that boy is hiding. Will finding secrets be as fun as drowning? I guess I should find out. I could even call it training. Having fun while training.
*****************************
I walk out of my room and to the kitchen, running a towel over my damp hair. They went out on a date night so I guess I have a little breather. There's a little note on the fridge door, left there by my mum, no doubt. The only person who can still pretend this dysfunctional arrangement is a cute happy family.
I find dinner in the pan, as the note directed, and a tiny bottle of wine behind the cooker, as the note directed, too. I chuckle to myself at this, For all her faults and selective blindness, Melissa James, now Melissa Fray by virtue of her marriage to my stepdad is a pretty decent mother. I've accepted that she would never have a backbone of her own and will always have stepdad to think for her. There's also the fact that he's very powerful and has a lot of authority in the pack. Masculine aggressiveness is the order of the day in the Southern pack, under Flock.
I'll leave here soon enough anyway. Despite Mum's complaints every time I mention it, I know that staying here as I grow into adulthood would mean that I would accidentally kill Stepdad in one training session. If things continue this way, there would be no avoiding that and as much as I would enjoy that, I don't want mum's grief on my hands.
Just the other day, I threw him during the training and his back made a funny sound. He only had his supernatural healing abilities to thank for his recovery. Sure he got back at me by fighting dirty, but it won't be long before I would outdo him in that too. Then what next?
I'm halfway through my meal and scrolling through social media when I hear a movement at the door.
Speaking of psychos. I quickly shove my wine under the table and more mouthfuls of noodle soup with rice. Kirk swaggers in and my pulse intensifies as I try to ignore his presence. "What's up, cuz?" he asks, and I give him a quick side-eye before returning to my phone and food.
"I'm talking to you though", he says in a low dark voice and I almost choke on my mouthful. I gesture at my mouth, hoping I look as annoyed as I'm pretending to feel rather than scared shitless, which is how I feel.
He chuckles and walks over to snatch my dinner, that smug look still on his face "This smells good, you should have left me a portion".
"I didn't know you were coming around", I say, practically holding my breath now. "You can have the rest", I finish, practically shoving the pan in his hand. He inclines his head to the side before he does a mock sigh and tugs at my hair slightly. I'm frozen at this point, but that's all he does before grabbing the rest of the food and disappearing toward the back of the house.
As soon as she's out of sight, I hurry out of the house and dump the entirety of my dinner in the grass. When I have nothing at all left in my tummy, I swish the alcohol around in my mouth to get rid of the putrid taste and then fall back to a sitting position a few feet away from my vomit, drinking the remains of the wine. I count my breath as I drink, One, Two, Three, Four, Gasp.