Ava

It's been eight years since that day in the basement. To this day I still don't understand what Marcus meant when he said that it was my fault that our mother, his by birth and mine through adoption, was dead. I didn't do anything. I was nine. How could it have possibly been my fault?

I've racked my brain over and over as well as attempted to find out more information about what happened to her, but I couldn't find anything. It's like her death hadn't happened. Sure, there had been a funeral and the whole pack had attended, expect for me. I wasn't allowed to leave the house. I was only allowed to go to school, the store, and to the doctor when necessary. Marcus or my father always went with me to the last two, I guess that way they could make sure I didn't say anything I shouldn't.

Tonight, I'm once again in the basement, breathing through my grit teeth as I try not to inhale the stench of my own blood. Marcus, who had recently been appointed the Beta of the pack when Drew took over his duties as the next Alpha of Lotus Grove, was whipping me because I came home late from school. I had tried to tell him I had been working on a project for one of my classes, had even gotten a note from my teacher to show I had been there, but he hadn't listened. I could only assume that his rage wasn't only because I was home late, but also because Drew's scent was likely clinging to me since he had forced me to let him take me home.

Closing my eyes, I patiently waited until he was done. When he was, I heard him walk away, and suddenly the chains that were holding me up by my wrists were released, causing me to fall to the ground in a crumpled heap. As I try to gather my bearings, the door to the basement opens and my father's overwhelming scent punched me in the face, causing my stomach to churn. Crumpled on the ground, I look up and watch as my father takes slow methodical steps down the stairs. His gaze locks on me as he opens his mouth and asks, "What did she do now, Marcus?"

"She was late from school, and she smelled like Drew," Marcus spat out.

Drew had been at the school today picking something up for his mother, the former Luna of the pack, when he saw me walking home. I probably looked frantic because I hadn't realized how late it had gotten before telling my teacher I needed to leave and asking if she would write a note for me. Drew is the only person in the pack to show me any kindness that I'm frequently around. I can only assume the rest are too afraid of my father and brother to even try. So, he offered me a ride home when he saw me. I refused his offer multiple times, said he didn't need to do that since he was probably busy and needed to get back to his duties, but he kept insisting. The last time I refused his offer he frustratedly used his Alpha voice to compel me into agreeing to let him take me home.

Because of that, I now lay here in a crumpled heap on the dingy basement floor. I could feel the blood from my punishment running slowly down my back, and with all the strength I could muster, I stand up and look at my father. He has piercing blue eyes and neatly kept black hair with tinges of grey peeking through. His skin is tan and looks leathery from years of being in the sun, training with all the pack warriors. My father is the former Beta, and even though he has stepped down and the reigns have been passed on to Marcus, he is still as strong as when he was the Beta.

When my father finishes climbing down the stairs, he walks over to me and backhands me, throwing my head to the side with the force and splitting open my lip. "Why were you late from school, but more importantly, why did you smell like the Alpha?"

"I-i-i-" I stutter, trying to form a complete sentence, but find it hard. The pain from my now split lip causing me to wince.

"I-i-i-" My father mimicks. "Quit your stuttering and answer me, girl."

"I had to work on a project for class. It's worth 50% of my final grade. I didn't realize how late it had gotten. I left the school and started walking home. Alpha Andrew was leaving the school and saw me walking, so he offered me a ride home. I tried to deny his offer multiple times. He ended up compelling me to let him take me home. I didn't have a choice." I cry.

Grabbing my hair and putting his face as close as possible to mine, he spat, "You better not be lying to me girl, because if you are, what your brother just did to you will be nothing compared to what I will do."

"I got a note from my teacher before I left. It explains what needs to be done for the project and the amount of hours that need to be completed after school to get the credit."

"You got a note?" He asks me in disbelief, the hand holding onto my hair tightening. I whimper in pain as the strands start torip from my scalp. "Do you honestly believe that I would believe a note?"

"Mrs. Campbell said to call her to verify verbally if needed." I cry, desperately trying to appease him.

"Oh, I will," he replies as he lets go of my hair. "I don't want you getting into a car with the Alpha again, or anyone else, for that matter. I'll speak to him, so he knows my wishes in the future." Walking over to the sink that is on the wall next to the stairs, he starts to wash his hands. "Remember, girl, you're not allowed to have any friends. That includes the Alpha. I don't care what he says to you. Also, you're not allowed to do this so-called project for school, and when I speak with Mrs. Campbell, I'll tell her that."

"But if I don't do the project, I won't graduate."

"I don't care. You going to school is just to keep the pack from asking questions. You're nothing, and it won't matter if you graduate or not. In fact, Monday morning I'm going up to the school to withdraw you. It's time for you to know your place, and that is to be our slave." Turning away from the sink, he shakes his hands of the water droplets and eyes me up and down before heading for the stairs.

When he reaches the stairs, he stops and turns around once again to face me. "Don't just stand there, go get cleaned up and start our dinner. If it's not ready in an hour, I'll drag you back down here for another beating, and this time, I won't stop until you're dead."

I nod my understanding and then watch as Marcus follows our father upstairs with an evil smile on his face. Patiently, I wait until I hear where they are going. Hoping they would leave the house for the hour I have to get cleaned up and get dinner on the table. When I hear the front door open and then slam shut, I let out a relieved sigh before I head upstairs to take a quick shower.

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When I get to the bathroom, I turn on the shower and start to strip my clothes off. I look at shirt I had been wearing and throw it in the trash can in disgust. It's ruined. Mentally preparing myself, I stepp into the shower, but still wince at the sting of the freezing cold water on my wounded back. I clean the blood and grime off my body as quickly as I can. Once I'm finished, I step out and grab a towel, gently wrapping it around my body. Turning around, I look at the damage my brother had done this time.

As I'm taking in the sight before me, I feel my wolf whimper.

"AnnaLeese, I don't know how much longer I can survive this," I say. Speaking to her with my thoughts.

With another whimper, I feel her struggle with the pain I'm in. "Your birthday is on Sunday and it's the full moon."

"No wonder father is willing to take me out-of-school Monday. I'll be 18."

"18 and finally you'll shift. Remember what we talked about."

I nod my head in acknowledgement. When AnnaLeese first came to me, she told me that, if I could hang on until I was 18, she would get me away from here once I shift, but not a moment before then.

Not wanting to get another beating, I finish drying off and go to my room to pull on some clothes. Wearing a simple plain white baggy long sleeve shirt and a pair of hand-me-down workout leggings, I walk out of my room into the kitchen and start to prepare dinner. Luckily, tonight I planned for us to have stew, so I had thrown everything in the crockpot this morning before leaving for school, setting the temperature of the crockpot to low. All I need to do now is make the cornbread. Humming to myself, I move around the kitchen, gathering the things I need. After mixing the batter for the cornbread, I pour it into a circle cake pan and place it in the oven.

While the cornbread bakes, I stir the stew to mix everything together and then cover it again until I'm ready to serve it. The smell of the stew makes my mouth water and my stomach growl. Of all the chores I'm expected to do around the house, cooking is actually one I don't mind having to take care of. It's fun, and it's the one thing I get to be creative with at home.

Sighing, I go over to the table to clear the clutter that had gathered on it during the day and sort through it. Walking over to a built-in shelf we have in the kitchen, I place the items in the bins I'd put there. There are two bins, one with my father's name and one with Marcus's.

Once I've put the items in their respective bins, I move back to the table and start to wipe it down, making sure it's clean before I put down the place mats. After I've finished setting the table, the timer for the cornbread goes off and I take the cornbread out, setting it to the side to cool before slicing into it. Turning, I grab some bowls from the cabinet behind me and start filling them with the stew. By the time I finish filling each bowl, the cornbread has cooled enough for me to slice it into quartered pieces. Taking them out of the pan, I place them on two small plates, the kind that may be used for a teacup or finger foods. Picking those two plates up, I take them over to the place setting for Marcus and my father and set them down.

Just as I place my father's bowl on the place mat in front of his seat at the table, he and my brother walk in the door. Without saying anything, I step back and bow my head, looking at my feet.

Once my father and brother are seated at the table, my father says, "Go get yourself a bowl and take it to your room. I don't want to see you for the rest of the night."

"Yes, sir."

Not wanting him to change his mind, I quickly grab the bowl I prepared for myself before they walked in, hoping tonight wouldn't be one of the nights they didn't allow me to eat. They do that sometimes whenever I've pissed them off. Taking the bowl, I open the door to my room. My room is actually supposed to be an oversized pantry, but it's what they deemed was enough space for me, the unwanted mongrel. There is just enough space for the twin size mattress, a small desk and a small wardrobe that has built-in drawers. Sitting down on the mattress, I scoot back until my back is against the wall and cross my legs holding the bowl in front of me, then I slowly eat the stew.

When I'm finished, I grab my backpack and start packing it with simple clothes that would be easy to change into once I'm on the run. I choose the items I put into the backpack with care; I don't want to make my father and brother suspicious. I carefully fold each item so that they take up as little space as possible, fitting as much into the backpack as I can.

Since I was told not to be seen again tonight, I didn't have to worry about cleaning up the kitchen until morning, which means I'm going to have to get up at least an hour earlier than normal so I'll be able to get my other morning chores done as well. I won't have to worry about leftovers though, since Marcus and my father usually have two helpings of my stew, but I was still going to have a bunch of dishes to clean up.

With a small sigh when I'm finished, I sit back down on my mattress and lean my head to the side, attempting to hear the sounds in the house. The only thing I hear is the sound of the TV in the living room, so I lean back and grab my journal that I keep between my mattress and the wall. I keep it there because it's the only place that my evil father and sadistic brother never look. When they're in the mood to search my room to make sure I'm not hiding anything from them, they always search the wardrobe and my desk, but never around my mattress. I guess they figure since I don't have a bed frame, just the mattress on the floor, that I wouldn't hide anything there.

Opening up the journal, I flip through the pages until I get to the last entry. Taking the pen out of the rings of the notebook, I write down the events that happened today. Ever since I learned how to read and write, I have kept a journal that detailed how they "punished" me; this way I could always remember what had triggered their anger, so I didn't do it again.

When I'm finished, I place the journal in my backpack along with the other things that I packed. Feeling exhausted, even though it is only seven, I set my alarm for in the morning and lay down on my stomach.

Eventually, after I'm able to get my thoughts to settle, I tell AnnaLeese good night, and drift off to sleep.