Omega to Alpha

he

cond mistake was being born a female. Stories about my kind in other cities made

e to breathe in the fresh forest breeze. I was eight, but I knew a lot, as the daughter of a popular pack warrior. The rage

and a sloughing back. I stood far away, careful not to be found. The woman was frail and old. She was one of those wo

ared into the night. I ducked, clenching onto the poor tree concealing my presence. I felt the leaves rustle as he dashe

toward the house, wanting to satisfy my curiosity, knowing t

e silhouette of a woman sitting on the floor, in tears. A little baby was wrapped in white wool, placed inside a basket a few meters a

was no way she was going to be allowed a normal life—just like me. I wondered why my pack hated females so much, especially female

by from one of the nurses’ hands, who tried to yield to the pain of a mother about to lose her child forever. I d

fear, I dove to the ground. No one has caught me since I began my n

n for her. My mother had told me stories like this but I never believed them because I thought she wanted to instill fear in me just to keep me locked away. As I planned to leave, the woman in the house stoo

traveled to meet the blood dropping from under her skirts. It was a horrible sight. The night wasn’t cold, but I

es. I threw up along the way as my brain couldn’t digest the gory sight. This would be me in a few years to come if I’m ever found,

as left until my secret would be discovered, and I didn’t do a great job at concealing my identity either, but the thought of my future haunted me

to my room unnoticed—it was too late. I corrected my posture, as I stood upright. My limbs were fixed on the spot. I didn’t have an excuse. It was way p

orry,

er’s fear for my life was justified. I turned t

you make me a boy like my brother?” I wailed bitterly as I held on to m

ore your father finds out about this.” She helped me to my feet and pushed me briskly into my room. I

er replied nervously—she feared my father more

speak with someone just now!” my father

old back my sob. It was not the first time my mother defended me. It was not the first time I heard her cry from my father’s hit. The pain she went through because of me made me obey her for a while and remain locked up but s

raps. Ungrateful bunch of shits!” he cursed and slammed my r

e, watching all these to happen. Then, my mother’s silhouette blocked my view. She sat at the edge of my bed. Immediately, I flung my arms around her as my tears increased, resting

put yourself in trouble. I do

to know why she allowed my father to hit her time and time again. Was I a special being, or was I a curse never to be seen? Questions I wished I had answers to. Just as my eyelids were falling asleep, a terrib