Sold to the Cruel Alpha

Harsh Realities 

 I wasn't smiling anymore. My reflection in the cracked mirror showed a face bruised and battered, a stark contrast to the person I once was. My clothes were old and faded, the fabric threadbare from endless wear and tear. I knelt on the cold floor of Alpha Mikey's room, packing the laundry into a basket, my heart heavy with each movement.

 Tears slipped down my cheeks, but I fought to keep my expression emotionless, a mask I wore to hide the pain inside. He had just had his way with me again, on the floor and on his dirty laundry because he felt I wasn't good enough for his bed. 

 Mikey lounged on his bed, a newspaper spread out before him, the headline blaring like a taunt. When he glanced up at me, his gaze was cold and dismissive. 

 "Hurry up and take your pathetic self out of my sight," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. It was a usual thing now, a routine I had become all too familiar with over the past year.

 With saying anything, I picked up the basket and left his chambers, my head bowed as I walked past the maids. I didn't meet their eyes; I couldn't bear their pity or their whispers. Some of them greeted me, but I remained silent, feeling their gazes linger as I hurried away.

 "Look at her," one maid whispered to another as I passed, her voice barely above a murmur. "She's always bruised and beaten. What could possibly be happening to her?"

 "I don't know," the other replied, concern etched in her features. "She hasn't spoken to anyone in ages. It's like she's a ghost."

 "Do you think she's alright?" the first maid asked, her voice laced with worry. "It's been over a year since she arrived, and she's never looked worse."

 I caught snippets of their conversation, and the words clawed at my insides. They were right. I was a shadow of my former self, a mere shell of the person I had once been. My life had become a monotonous cycle of suffering under the cruel whims of Alpha Mikey. 

 As I made my way to the back of the house, I breathed in the cool, fresh air, but it did little to ease the weight in my chest. I reached the little stream where I washed his soiled clothes, the sound of the water lapping against the stones both calming and painful. I dipped my hands into the cool water, scrubbing the stains out, but my thoughts were elsewhere.

 My life had been miserable from day one. Each passing day felt like a reminder of how low I had fallen, a stark reflection of my worthlessness. Alpha Mikey was a monster, and I was nothing more than a plaything for his twisted desires. Every bruise on my body was a testament to his sick enjoyment, a reminder that I was unworthy of love or kindness. Things he said constantly to me. 

 Lost in thought, I barely noticed the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A hard shove sent me tumbling into the stream, the cold water enveloped me. I gasped as I surfaced, trying to get to the surface. As I climbed out, water dripping from my clothes, I spotted a familiar figure standing on the bank, laughing at me

 Meriela, the pack slut and Alpha Mikey's favorite, leaned casually against a nearby tree, her laughter ringing like bells in my ears. "Wow, Noelle, you really know how to make a splash," she jeered, her voice laced with mockery. "Did that hurt?"

 I gasped as I stood to my feet. 

 "What happened? Did you think you could just waltz in here and pretend you're worthy of Micky's attention?"

 I shook the water from my hair, annoyance boiling within me. "What do you want, Meriela?" I retorted, my voice steady despite the humiliation. "Don't you have someone else to torment?"

 I wasn't even surprised by this. She did things like this as often as she could.

 She stepped closer, her eyes glinting with delight. "Oh, but this is so much fun! Watching you flounder around like a fish out of water. You should really learn to stay out of places you don't belong," she sneered, her smile widening. "Besides, I'm just enjoying my time with the pack's favorite punching bag."

 "Punching bag? Is that really what you think of me?" I shot back, my anger flaring. "You think you're so special because you're Micky's favorite? You're just another one of his toys."

 Her laughter rang out again, bright and mocking. "Toys are meant to be played with, darling. And trust me, I'm his favorite. You're just the discarded doll, the one he tosses aside when he's bored. You should know your place by now."

 I glared at her, my heart racing. "You're wrong. I might be bruised, but I'm not broken. One day, you'll see just how strong I can be."

 She raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Oh? And how do you plan to escape this hellhole? You're stuck here, Noelle, and you know it. Micky loves keeping you in line, watching you squirm. It's like a game to him."

 "Soon, you'll see. My favor from the moon goddess will come " I said fiercely, my resolve hardening and holding on to the only thing I had, hope. "You think you're safe because you're his favorite? One day, you'll slip up, and when you do, I'll be the one laughing from afar."

 Meriela stepped closer, invading my space. "Sweetheart, I've got everything figured out. Micky will never get tired of me. You, on the other hand? You'll always be the nobody, the girl with bruises and faded clothes. Face it—this is your life now."

 I took a step back, her words stinging, but I wouldn't let her see my weakness. "Leave me alone, Meriela. Focus on your own life." 

 She rolled her eyes, brushing off my words. "Whatever. I'm sure the dungeons will be just lovely for you, I'll speak to Micky about it. I can't wait to see how you cope with the darkness," she said, her smile twisted with delight.

 As she walked away, I felt a mix of anger and defeat surge through me. I had to find a way to escape this life, to break free from the chains binding me. But for now, all I could do was return to my miserable existence. The thought of being locked in my tiny dungeon room with barely anything to eat filled me with dread, every single day it was the same anf was never any easier.

 I took a deep breath, trying to ignore the stinging pain of my freak bruises. Oneday, I'll make it out of here.

 With that thought in mind, I gathered the laundry basket and made my way back toward the house, every step echoing with dread. 

 I will survive, I don't know how long but I will try.