The Broken Mate

TAYLOR'S POV

"Taylor!!!" The pique sound of my father's voice resonated through my room. I stirred awake, sweat breaking profusely as I set my feet on the cold floor and stood from my squeaky bed. Just then, the door bursts open, its hinges cracking as it hits the wooden surface.

"You malignant little twat!'' he clenches his fist, two big steps forward, and he has me in his grasp. His fingers circle my throat as he brings me to the wall.

"How many fucking times have I told you that I want no dirty dishes in the sink?"

"B...but I cleaned..." Thwart! The slap resounds as I feel the stinging pain in my cheek. His hand does not leave my neck, and neither does the grazed look of hatred he gives me.

I don't understand, I cleaned those dishes...unless of course, he left them again last night in his drunken haze. Reminding him would only cause me more pain, I struggled against his hands.

Trying to break free before I suffocate. As if on cue, my father releases me and I fall to the floor. He sends a kick towards my stomach, leaving me in pain as I crutch my side.

"Good for nothing...'' he spits.

"Useless! If your sister never died, maybe I would have a better family than you!'' There it was! The words he would always recite. The names he would call me.

It's been almost 13 years since the death of my older sister. And a whopping 10 years since my father killed my mother.

Death was the closest, most merciful thing she got. After years of torture under my father's wing. He sends a fist to my face, knocking me back and giving me no moment to breathe.

Another blow to my already pained stomach. I struggle to sit up, I feel the blood oozing profusely from my mouth. I was not shocked. I had become accustomed to pain so much that it became my only friend.

Suddenly, my father's fingers dive into my hair, and he grips with pressure. I let out a hiss, forced to look up at him as he dragged me out of the room. Tears cascade down my cheeks, the pain in my body does not stop.

The wounds from yesterday's beating were still so fresh. And now father was adding insult to injury. He drags me down the stairs effortlessly.

"Father, please...'' I beg.

"That's right, girl, beg. That is all you know how to do.

You are the biggest mistake I made anyway. The thorn is still pinching my sides. You are the abomination I still want to get rid of." The stench of liquor leaves his mouth as he says those words. It pains me the most to hear how much my father hates me.

But it all started with him. Three years after the death of my elder sister, Bella, dad started his endeavors. Creeping into my bed at night, touching me. Shutting me up, hitting me occasionally and taking what he pleased.

The pleasure he derived drove him to become this person. And when mother found out, he killed her. We have been living on the run since them. From pack to pack. Because Alpha Darren knows my father and what he did. Yet, dad has made a vow to never be caught. You are the abomination I still want to get rid of.

Now that was new. He's told me countless things since mother died. He has made resolutions and twisted his personality. Most of the beatings he gives me may not even be fresh in his memory. He drinks to forget, but every moment he sees me, it's as though I'm a remembrance of the things in life he is still stuck with.

"You see that! Look at that. Those dishes piled in the sink make it look like roaches live here!'' He bangs my head against the headboard. I let out a scream of pain, but it only encouraged a disengaged laughter from my father.

Sliding down to the floor, in a pit of my blood, I notice my father seated on the coach with a new bottle of beer in his hands. He paid no attention to me. One sip. Two sips. Three sips, and his eyes are heavy.

He falls asleep, leaving me with the consequences of his actions and a reminder of his hatred. ............... I squeezed the wet piece of cloth into the bucket one last time.

Finally, I was done. If my father woke up and found the trail of blood across the stairs and the kitchen floors, then he would kill me this time. I stand to my feet and carry the bucket with me.

Making slow, quiet movements, so that my father does not hear me, I open the door and head out. I leave the bucket right outside, and I dry my dirty hands with a piece of cloth. I had earlier clocked my scent since I knew I could be late for school.

Dad has taught me how to follow his rules. To mask my scent and make sure nobody knows who I am. I have always hidden my backpack in the corner outside my house.

To avoid father tearing it apart in a fit of rage. Picking it up, I began the long, painful walk to school through the bushes surrounding our little cabin. Unknown, that I would fall asleep out of exhaustion immediately I got to class. Life for me was nothing but pain and suffering.

......................

RYAN'S POV

Lonely, dejected, despondent. That's how pathetic and miserable I will be without a mate. Yet, I have searched for her. Waited as my father advised. I have exercised patience to my last straw.

I am the future Alpha of Black Night Pack, born and bred to rule my people and fulfill my destiny. But who is a ruler without a queen by his side? Suddenly, I feel it! All over me.

Overwhelming me. Like the moon goddess had listened to my pleas and brought my mate and i together. I can smell her scent. It fills my nostrils, and it enrages me with frustration.

'Mate' My wolf howls. I struggle to keep my beast at bay. The classroom is full, yet I can feel her around me. Somewhere. I have been to this class a thousand times. Yet, I have never caught a scent as beautiful and inviting as that one. My werewolf senses direct me to the girl sleeping at the far end of the row. My eyes are heightened. I have the urge to make a claim over her. To mark her without carrying for privacy. "Mine.'' my wolf howls, ready to pounce on her and have her in my arms. Finally, I have found my mate.