31. Save Yourself
Save Yourself
I growl at the bad Alpha. Lowering myself close to the ground and flashing my teeth. He takes a step forward, and I lunge at him. My dirt caked nails rake down his arm. Blood blooms in their wake. I snarl and leap again. This time I aim for his face.
He swings his arm, knocking me against the side of the head, and I fall to the ground. My face slams into the dirty concrete floor, and pain spreads over my temple. My pulse thumps behind my eye, but I scramble to my feet and run at him again.
He throws the tray down, food splats across the floor and up the wall. Water drains from the cup. He backs away, slamming the door behind him. Shutting out most of the light apart from the beam shining through the cracks in the door.
“If you want to act like an animal, you can eat off the floor like one.”
I throw myself at the door. The frame rattles, the old wood creaking but holding firm.
“I cannot wait to be rid of you. The others weren’t this difficult. You’re lucky we gave you scent deodorisers with a disgusting scent like yours. Feral beast. Barely even an Omega.” He mutters as his footsteps retreat.
Never stop fighting, Evie.
I snatch the fallen slice of toast and shove it into my mouth. Chewing and swallowing as quickly as I can, and huddle back into the corner. I wrap my arms around myself, trying to warm my shivering form.
At some point my eyes drift closed, but the sounds of shouting springs me awake.
“We could keep her.”
He’s the good Alpha. He gave me a blanket before the bad one took it away after I tried to strangle him with it.
The shadows of feet stop directly outside my door.
“We can’t afford that. This is our ticket to freedom. One more kid. One more week and we’re in the clear.”
“But what if they hurt her?”
“All they want is her scent. Don’t back out on me now. Not when we’re this close.”
They move away until their voices drift into silence.
Everything is quiet. My heart thumps so loudly it becomes the only sound in the universe.
The first week I was here, I would scream and cry at night.
Now the darkness is my friend. I can squeeze myself under the metal bed frame bolted to the wall and hide away from it all.
Only tonight it isn’t pitch black. Warm light trickles through the cracks in the door. I slide closer and test the handle.
Locked.
With a sigh, I sit back, stretching my legs out in front of me, and stare up at the ceiling.
My finger touches cold metal. He didn’t take the food tray.
I snatch it and jam it into the crack between the door and the frame.
I pull. The metal creaks and the wood groans, but a pop sounds and the door swings open.
The old, rusted metal lock clatters to the floor, and light spills into the room.
Cautiously, I slip from the room. Every sound I make seems to echo, sounding louder and louder until I’m sure I’ve been caught. But no one comes.
I follow the light.
The fire roars, wood crackling and embers sparking. Smoke lies thick in the air. It smells like freedom.
The room is barely cleaner than mine. Grime lines the floor, the wallpaper is peeling, and rubbish covers every surface. I inch further in. The warmth from the fire licks at my skin, and for the first time in weeks, I stop shivering.
A coughing snort jolts my bones. My spine goes rigid, and I freeze.
On the ratty sofa, the bad Alpha turns in his sleep. Orange light dances over his sleeping form. A bottle is firmly in one hand while the other has a cigarette hanging loosely from his fingers.
I walk over to the sad excuse of a kitchen. Mouldy food, dirty cups and plates are stacked on the counter. My fingers reach for the knife, but the weight is heavier than I thought it would be, and it slips from my grasp, clanging against the floor. My legs shake and my arms feel weak.
I haven’t moved this much in weeks, and I haven’t eaten well in months.
My vision blurs. I grab hold of the back of a chair to steady myself. Nausea curls in my stomach, and I let out a slow breath through my nose.
Light bounces and shines in my eye, drawing my attention to the plastic table. A toolbox lies half open. A rusted hammer, a dented screwdriver, and a loose screw sit inside. But it’s the penknife that I care about. I wrap my fingers around the handle and squeeze my fist closed.
My body moves automatically.
I walk over to the bad Alpha and stab him.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Until his blood is pooling all around me.
The knife slides in my grasp, but I hold on tighter. I release a shaky breath and push it into his flesh again.
I keep going.
Stabbing, cutting and slicing until he is more wound than whole.
“What have you done!”
It’s the good Alpha.
Only he’s not good anymore.
He cries and screams, throwing me away from the bad Alpha and climbing over his body. He knocks the bottle out of his hand and pleads for him to wake up. Liquid spills from the bottle, mixing with the deep red of his blood and spreading over the rug.
He’s dead. Now he can’t be bad anymore.
Heat warms my back, and my form casts a dark shadow over the room.
The Alpha pays me no attention, still trying to wake the dead man. My feet slide in the blood, leaving footprints trailing after me.
I grab the poker, stabbing it into the fire. Flames threaten to burn my skin, but I keep jabbing. The metal lodges inside a log. The fire burns at it hungrily, and I throw it. It bounces along the rug and catches. It spreads quickly, igniting the puddle of liquid around the couch.
I back away.
Fabric burns and crackles, and the flames keep spreading.
I move robotically, leaving the flames at my back.
I’m numb.
My fingers flex around the knife, and a small jolt of happiness courses through me. Screams and cries wail through the loud roaring of the fire. I swipe the keys from the table and walk out the front door.
I’m free.
Run. Don’t ever stop running.
I should. But I can’t bring myself to leave.
I need to make sure the good one dies too.
My hand doesn’t feel like my own. I feel like I’m watching someone else control my body. My hand moves, the key dangling between my fingers. It slides into place and turns. The lock sounds with a click.
Banging echoes from the other side, and I back away.
He’s trying to open the door.
The window fills with flames—orange, yellow, and red, lighting up the street. Thick black smoke swallows the air. I can’t look away.
I watch.
As the room fills with fire.
I watch.
The Alpha presses against the glass.
I watch.
The flames eat his skin, bubbling and charring everything it touches.
I watch.
Him, screaming at me.
“HELP US!”
And I do nothing but laugh.