Chapter 36: A Quiet Day’s Disruption

The grocery store was a drab, overly lit place that smelled faintly of cleaning chemicals and faint desperation. Rows of brightly colored packaging offered promises they couldn’t keep—quick solutions to meals I didn’t want to cook and snacks I couldn’t bring myself to enjoy. I pushed the cart down the aisle slowly, as though taking my time might make the experience any less dull.

A few essentials: bread, some canned goods, coffee—always coffee. I tossed them into the cart without much thought. My eyes skimmed over the shelves with disinterest, not entirely sure what I was looking for. Nothing felt necessary, not really. I just knew the house felt emptier than I could stand, and stocking the cupboards seemed like a reasonable way to fill some of that void.

A mother and her young son passed me in the aisle, the boy tugging insistently at her hand. His wide eyes fixed on the bright blue box of cereal on the bottom shelf, and he let out a shrill, excited squeal when she finally caved and placed it in their cart. She smiled indulgently at him, ruffling his hair, and for a fleeting moment, I felt a pang of something I couldn’t quite name.

Shaking off the feeling, I moved on, focusing on the task at hand. some sweets where at the bottom of the list. I found it in the back corner of the store, . some had frills, or bright colors—

At the checkout, the cashier was friendly enough, though her attempts at small talk felt strained.

“Long day?” she asked as she scanned the items.

“Something like that,” I replied, not bothering to elaborate.

Her gaze lingered a moment too long on some bottles of alcohol before she quickly averted her eyes, finishing the transaction in silence. I couldn’t blame her.

The bags felt heavier than they should have as I carried them to the car. Outside, the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the parking lot. The air was crisp, tinged with the faint smell of asphalt and exhaust. I loaded the bags into the trunk and leaned against the car for a moment, staring out at the horizon. thought about what to do after some minutes thinking i started driving back to the house

The house was quiet when I stepped through the door, the stillness pressing in as the day’s tension followed me inside. Day three had started uneventfully, and I’d hoped it would stay that way. It wasn’t like I had any pressing tasks waiting, only the unspoken weight of responsibility. The place had become too familiar already—too small, too quiet, and too void of anything that might make it feel like home.

The crinkling of plastic echoed through the empty space as I dropped the bags on the counter. Food ,drinks and a few essentials. That was all I could come back with. Nothing extravagant. The house wasn’t equipped for anything beyond the basics. No real furniture, no pictures, no sense of life. Just bare necessities. My life wasn’t exactly booming with excitement lately.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“Don’t feel like cooking tonight,” I muttered, mostly to myself, as I opened my phone and ordered takeout. The familiar screen, the routine, it all felt too monotonous. There wasn’t much else to do but wait and survive another day.

While My food was on its way, I moved toward the kitchen, grabbing the nutrient paste that was meant for Alpha. It wasn’t great, but it was fuel, and Alpha needed it. Without looking at Alpha, I went through the motions, mixing the paste into water.

“Alpha, food is ready,” I said.

There was no immediate response. I turned, but Alpha was not to be seen in the kitchen. He must be somewhere around the house.

When the doorbell rang, I shook my head and shouted, “Alpha. Get the door.”

This time, he moved without a word. His steps were deliberate, measured. I had to remind myself he wasn’t human. He wasn’t supposed to act like one, no matter how strange it was to watch him. Still, it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

When I heard the door open, all I heard was a scream.

It wasn’t like I didn’t expect this reaction, but it still annoyed me. I sighed, my shoulders tightening. People always reacted like this. Fear. Discomfort. Confusion.

So I made my way out of the kitchen.

“Stay back!” The driver stumbled, dropping the bag of food. His voice trembled, high-pitched, as though he’d seen something straight out of a nightmare.

“Alpha?” I called, stepping toward them.

Without a word, Alpha turned. His expression was neutral, but something in his posture seemed off—too stiff, too distant. His visor dimmed.

I stepped past him, reaching out to the delivery driver. “Hey, hey—it’s okay,” I said, keeping my voice calm. “I’m sorry about that. He’s… harmless.”

The driver blinked, disbelief etched into his features as he hesitated, hesitantly accepting my hand. His gaze kept darting toward Alpha. I could practically feel his adrenaline spiking.

“He doesn’t look harmless,” the man mumbled, his voice still shaky.

I offered a strained smile. “Yeah, I get that. He’s just… intimidating. Really, he’s fine. Doesn’t even talk.”

The driver’s eyes flickered between Alpha and me, his fear still evident. I gave him a generous tip and muttered a few more apologetic words before closing the door.

The food order had been forgotten, left on the porch. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the irritation and the growing unease that had taken root in my chest.

Alpha remained by the door, his posture rigid, almost as though he were waiting for further instructions. His silence was deafening.

“You know, you could try to look a little less… menacing,” I said jokingly, glancing at him as I unpacked the food. “Standing there like a statue doesn’t exactly scream ‘friendly.’”

I half-expected a response, but he didn’t say a word.

No indication he even acknowledged my words.

I took a deep breath, trying to push down the frustration that was creeping in. “Look at that, Marcus. They just don't see that he’s harmless, except given orders… accept that,” I muttered under my breath.

I sighed again, shaking my head. I wasn’t used to this quiet indifference from him. Back at the facility, he followed orders, his responses clear, precise. Here? Everything felt off.

As I ate, my mind wandered back to the delivery driver. His fear lingered, even now, as if the image of Alpha had imprinted itself in his memory. I didn’t know if I could blame him. Alpha wasn’t human, and he certainly didn’t look human.

Still, I couldn’t help but feel responsible. I’d let him out—let him roam freely—and now people were reacting like I’d brought some kind of weapon into their lives.

And maybe, in a way, I had.

The food wasn’t great, but I ate anyway, pushing the uncomfortable thoughts to the back of my mind. Alpha stood silently, not moving, not speaking, just watching.

The evening dragged on, and the house settled into an uneasy silence. I knew I wouldn’t get much sleep tonight.

Alpha didn’t belong here. No matter how much I wanted to believe I could make things normal, there was no escaping the truth. Alpha wasn’t normal.