Back and Stronger: Alpha's Daughter
Chapter 9

Sophia paced from one web covered corner of the room to the other. The bus ride home was a particular brand of hell, though for the first time, she saw genuine pity in some of the females’ eyes. It was almost as if they knew of the horrors that lay in her future. She felt like she was standing in the direct line of a twisting tornado that was heading straight for her and there was nowhere she could go to escape. A dark gray and greenish sky racing toward her with flying debris; the twisting cyclone barreling down on her so fast that even if she thought of a place to hide, outrunning it would only prolong the inevitable.

Tired of pacing, she lay her hand across her growling stomach. She had not eaten, but her father was home and her goal for the night was to stay out of his cross fires. Leo had gotten some athletic award, so he was in a jovial mood, and one look at Sophia would have had the torrents of hail raining upon her. Sophia plopped on her mattress and hurt her butt when the half inch thickness caved to the concrete. She ran her hand along her swollen cheek. Her fingertips pressed gently to feel for breaks along her orbital bone. Might be, she thought, but maybe it would heal while she slept, like what happened overnight last night.

The tears of defeat that she never allowed to come forth threatened to fall. She choked them back, the knot in the back of her throat burning, then sliding down to roll within her hungry stomach. To allow them to fall over a future as Matthew’s mate would have allowed him a control she would never voluntarily give. She knew fate had hammered the final nail on her coffin when she saw the mark on Matthew that day. She knew she would never forget the way it felt. That abject terror that washed over with such force that it consumes. In one word, it felt like... death. Her world, the brutal, painful world that she lived in, was about to become much worse. Worse than even her tortured mind could imagine. Images flashed before her mind, sliding from one hellacious moment to the next. She recalled every dreadful thing Matthew had ever done; a continual reel of humiliation, degradation, and pain played on a continual reel in her mind’s eye.

She winced at the memory of him smashing the side of her face in the desk and her lip trembled when she recalled him telling her his plans to strip her naked, gag and bind her. After he took her, he said he was going to auction her to the highest bidder in the locker room. Bile rose in her throat. Her mind conjured the picture of him earlier that day when he hit her hard, and told her it was the only thing she would get from him as her mate, that it was his right. His words were true. Because of her father’s orders, it’s not only his right, but everyone else’s as well. But after graduation, Matthew’s hands would become the ones to dish out her daily torment, her daily beatings. He may not be as strong as her father, but he wouldn’t get bored with it as quickly or get pulled away by duties like her father. Those brief moments of reprieve were all that had kept her alive. That, and the hatred that was growing within her more and more every day.

The heat that pulsed from her reddened cheek told her the sting would make it difficult to sleep, but she had to try. She knew that her days at school were about to get worse. So much worse. She would need all her energy to survive each day. She curled up on her side and stared at the wall. A spider was in the corner, spinning its web. It’s liquid silk transforming into solid threads, its furry, black legs moving across its abdomen at a rapid-fire pace. The spiral design with its wheel-like spokes had been a beautiful, silky, sticky web intended to capture its latest victims. She felt bad, because if anyone knew what it was like to be captured, unable to escape the little silver strands that bound it to the web with only death to look forward to, it was her. She briefly wondered why she could look at a web in nature and recall the superstitions that brought good things, but there, in her dungeon, she couldn’t tap into that part of herself. Nothing good could ever come to her while being in that room with the walls closing in, shrinking inch by inch, day by day. No, nothing good would ever come to her.

She hadn’t gotten to talk to Neil during school, and she wondered if he knew Matthew was her mate. A wave of sadness swept over her, and it pulled her down into a moment of deep despair. The despair shifted to anger, and she demanded answers. How? How could the Goddess be that cruel? Of course, no answer was forthcoming. If Neil wasn’t to be her mate, then why had she dreamt about him for so long? Long before she knew he was real. Why did she recall every moment of every dream with such vivid detail? She hoped...no; she believed that there was a deeper meaning, a message of sorts, in those recurring dreams. Sophia fell asleep with Neil’s cocky smile and beautiful eyes in her head, in her heart..

Neil may have been in her head and heart when she fell into an uneasy sleep. But he wasn’t what she had dreamt of. She awoke early, before the birds started their morning chirps. Her heart thudded in her chest, and she clenched her fists so tightly that her brittle nails had left crescent marks in the palms of her hands. A few had even broken off in her skin. She pulled out the pieces of nail, not even aware of the tiny stings of pain. Compared to what she was used to, it was nothing. She calmed her pounding chest by focusing on her breathing. In slowly for four, then hold..1,2,3, then out for eight. She repeated it a few more times until the beating of her heart regulated to a slow, steady pace and it no longer felt like someone dropped a boulder on her chest. No, she hadn’t dreamt of Neil. Instead, she dreamt of Matthew. Her father’s torture was brutal and painful, but Matthew’s would be worse. She knew he would violate her body in any way he could. That he would enjoy giving her pain. She also knew he would allow his friends to violate her body, too. He did all of that, and worse. She distinctly recalled every second. How he had turned into the Were version of an incubus; a male demon that would rape her while she slept, so that she woke to his hand over her mouth and her arms strapped down so she couldn’t fight it him off. So that there would be no escape.

That’s what happened in her nightmare. She recalled it with such a vivid sensation that the sensitive flesh between her legs burned. After he had climbed off her, he shoved her to her knees, so she knelt before him like he was some god. Blood had stained the inside of her thighs; her wrists were red and raw from being shackled. He raged at her, spewing his verbal abuse forth with such force that sprays of spit flew out of his mouth. He grabbed her blonde hair in one hand and twisted it around his hand. With a mighty pull, he yanked. Silken blonde strands tore from her scalp. In her night terror, she bitten back her yelp of pain, but that only seemed to encourage him. While still gripping her hair in his fist, he drew his other arm back and slapped her across the face. Her head jerked, and he grabbed it with his other, holding her still. He spat on her, and demanded she repeat his foul words. Then he told her she would beg for him to be the one inside her before he was finished with her for the night. In the dream, she couldn’t take any more. He let go of her head and hair, lifted his foot, and kicked her in the chest, knocking her backwards. He then kicked her three more times in her ribs and stomach. Joss, Matthew’s star minion, turned up in the dream. He stood patiently to the side, encouraging Matthew to “hit her again.” Matthew leaned over her, and Joss moved in closer. “Let’s see how well you take both of us, bitch.” Thank the goddesses, she thought, that she woke up.

She blinked her eyes furiously, only imagining what would have happened next had she not woken up. Not a chance in hell, she thought. She will take her own life before she lets that happen. She will fight Matthew. What’s the worst that could happen? He’d kill her. That would be a fate significantly better than the alternative.

With no future left to lose, and no hope of getting out of this hell, Sophia decided she was done. Done with all this shit. She may not be able to fight her father. She may not be able to fight Matthew and his minions, who all of them combined had fewer brains than a fucking robot. But she was finished accepting the daily tortures. Her fate has been determined, and she accepted that the only way out was death. If it won’t be at her own hand, then it’ll be theirs and she damn well was going to have a bit of pride when it happened. After all, she had nothing else to lose.

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