BITTEN BY AN ALPHA BEAST

CHAPTER ONE: WAKE UP MR.WHITLOCK Sweat beads raced each other from Andre's temple to his chin and down to his scantily hairy chest, as the sun glided slowly towards the center of the sky outside his window. The sight would have been as picturesque as a holiday postcard, sending thrills of nostalgia down Andre's stomach when his mom woke him up in the late morning, if she had not mentioned that his father was waiting at the dining table.

Andre only hated girl pop groups and almond milk more than he hated his father's presence, sometimes his mother would force him to drink a glass or two of almond milk, but there's nothing in the world one could do from turning his face pale, once his father's name is mentioned. "What's that stench?" Cora asked while she raised her nostrils into the air, in half trying to decipher what the smell was, and half trying to stop herself from breathing in the fouls stench, it was a futile attempt. The curtains were split apart violently as of the smell was coming from them, they paid for Andre's negligence, the sun rays led Cora's eyes to the several plates filled with remains of old crumbs of cinnamon buns and other pieces of junk too dried up to be identified. Andre groaned, trying to get rid of the noise and go back to sleep. "Get up lazy ass, you have fifteen minutes to prepare and join me at the dining table, you know your father doesn't like cold meals." Cora ordered the stretching teen boy, ignoring the plates and empty fans of Soda littered all over the room, leading a trail towards Andre's bed. "But Mom...I need to..." "I said your dad is back, I guess you know what that means" Cora interrupted, and walked out of his room. Andre's eyes rid themselves of sleep immediately and his stomach turned upon hearing the presence of his father in the house. "Why is he here?" Andre muttered, getting up from the bed and heading straight to his bathroom to get ready. Cora's footsteps leaving the room, made way for the sound of the shower in Andre's bathroom, as Andre clumsily battled the cold water hating his father more and more as each drop of cold water dripped down his spine. Albeit Andre hated his father's very existence, one thing was greater than that hate; and it was Andre's fear for the old man, that fear made him endure the cold water from the shower head mindlessly. Andre Whitlock; a hybrid-blonde young man, nineteen year old spoilt degenerate who was already taller than his dad at fourteen, was born for the hard floor basketball court one could say. Andre loves basketball as much as he hated his dad, the relationship is a complicated one as his father is the on who introduced him to the game and would sometimes work him so hard during training that Andre would begin hating the game. After joining the school basketball team, Andre found out for the first time in his life that he could have friends and live a normal life, pretending that his father did not exist every match day, only to go back to his miserable, lonely life later, but it was all worth it. So Andre devices a means to separate his hate for his father's rigorous training routines and his love for the leather ball and hoops, Andre would picture his father's face on the ball as he bounced it around the court violently, dunking it a hard as he can into the hoop wishing he could do that to his father's actual face. Andre started basketball training at nine years old, when his father discovered how long his arms had become for that age, his wingspan was almost that of a grown man, " this boy could be Larry Bird in ten years," Andre's dad thought. From that day onwards, Andre never knew adequate sleep. His father would wake him up with cold water to the face before the sun awoke and they would jog around the block five times, under the rain, snow or a hot summer morning. The stress was too much for a nine year old and Andre's body clock protested. With time he lost all control of his sleep routines, once his father was around Andre would struggle with nightmares tossing and turning all through the night, only to catch some shut eye at dawn. But the joy would be short-lived as his father's bucket of cold water would splash in his dreams and in ten minutes he'll be sweating around the block breathlessly, this lack of sleep led to permanent eyebags below Andre's eyes. Andre was just masculine as his father, his uber-masculine ego would not let him admit to anybody, even to himself, that he was being abused by his father and his mother could do nothing to stop it, so she played pretend. Gabriel Whitlock was a fan of middleweight boxing, in fact he used to box himself, and his father before him, Mr. Whitlock saw himself as a failure since fragile fracture injury to his right rib forced him into early retirement and didn't let him go to the state championship just like his father. He blamed the fracture just s much as he blamed his father, Gabriel felt if his father had trained him hard enough, just as hi grandfather trained his father, he would have surpassed his father's achievements in the boxing world, but his father picked up an alcohol addiction and did not care about Gabriel's training anymore

Gabriel believes that greatness comes from a place of anger, pain and strain. He had vowed that he would not repeat his father's mistakes with him, when he bears a son. This led him into being a very terrible father to Andre, and a terrible husband to Cora; before Andre was born Cora was pregnant with a female foetus, she miscarried the baby and went down a deep depression hole for months. Gabriel could not care less as he wanted a son and not a daughter, to carry on the family boxing tradition.