The voices in my head led me to the other kitchen, grabbed a knife, and stuffed it in my jeans. They then forced my hands to grab another, just in case. I held it in the inside of my arm, up my sleeve, proceeding upstairs to my room.
Tears were still wetting my cheeks and I walked down the hallway sniffling and bruising my lip, keeping my sobs caged in.
“Violet,” a cold voice made me halt in my steps.
I turned around, tucking the blade closer to my arm, and kept my head down. I didn’t want him to see my tear-streaked face or the welt from the girls slap.
“Why are you back so early?”
“I-um, h-he was busy, s-so I made an a-appointment…”
“What did I tell you about the stuttering?” he growled stepping closer to me. I bit my lip harder to stop from breaking out right then. “And what did I tell you about looking at me?”
… Chris…
(‘No. It’s Derek. It’s okay.’)
‘Chris.’
He yanked my face up to his, jerking my body from the surprise. The knife in my arm jabbed my skin, a small wince appeared on my face and I quickly covered it not wanting him to become angry.
But Derek wasn’t dumb. He noticed and fuzzled his eyebrows, looking down at my arm. He yanked my arm from my side, and the knife fell out clanging on the ground.
Silence wrapped around us as I held my breath. My heart was beating out of my chest and he crouched down, grabbing the knife. He once again grabbed my chin, a lethal look was thrown my way as he held the knife up.
“Can you not go anywhere?” he snipped, “As of the marks on your face, it seems you can’t,” he growled before glancing back at the knife. “This… this would barely do any harm.” he smirked at me, “I thought you were smarter than that, but a butter knife to harm yourself?” he chuckled.
Suddenly he dropped his hand to my arm before tugging me his way, yanking me down the hallway. He stopped in front of a door, opening it up. I was immediately greeted with his scent and I realized it was his room.
Was he going to rape me? Had I pushed his last button?
I tried to free my arm but he growled, pulling me into the bathroom. He flicked on the light, closed the door, and pulled us in front of the mirror.
I looked rough. My cheeks were puffy, along with my reddened eyes. I had a hand mark on my cheek. My lips were battered from me biting them all the time and my hair was as dead as ever. He looked godly.
‘You’re so ugly.’
‘Hideous.’
“Do you want to see yourself?” he sneered as his hand ripped off my shirt. I gasped and went to cover myself, but he grabbed my arm. In the reflection, I saw his eyes glance down to my black bra.
(‘Relax Violet, he’s our mate. He won’t harm us.’)
… Chris always said I was his mate, didn’t stop him…
“Look at those scars, Violet.”
I whimpered as I started at the slivers of purple and white. My eyes also saw the yellow bruising caused by that blonde.
“You hate them don’t you?” he whispered in my ear, “you despise them.” I let a sob leave my lips as my vision blurred. “So tell me,” he wrapped his arms around my scrawny waist, “flower,” he tightened his grip and I gasped at the pain in the side from the blonde, “why the fuck would you add?”
“S-stop,” a cry shook my body. My eyes widened and dropped to his hands as he stuck one in my pants. I tried to move away but he let out a warning growl, keeping me in place. His huge hand roamed my leg until he grabbed the handle of the knife. He smirked against my neck, pulling it out.
A small part of me felt relieved.
“Got it…” he murmured against my skin and I shivered in response. “I smell her on you,” who? “Did you go pick a battle you knew you’d lose?”
I shut my eyes at his scrutinizing tone. I couldn’t do this.
“You’re jealous I didn’t fuck you instead? Wondering why I don’t tap your pussy?” I tried to pull away from him, but he didn’t let go. My sobs were leaving my lips shamefully free.
“But my dainty flower, look at yourself.” his hand cupped my chin and forced it up to look at myself in the mirror, “you don’t even have the backbone to tell me she did this to you, that you didn’t do anything…”
“P-please,” I whispered. I wanted it to stop. I wanted him to apologize to me and hug me, I had no clue why. He’s never done that before, why did I want it now?
Blame it on my wolf.
My legs felt weak. If he knew, why was he being so mean, what did I ever do to him?
He turned my body so my chest was to his, tightened his grip around my waist, and picked me up. He walked out of his room and walked to another.
He dropped me down on a bed and I realized I was back in my room. He got a new shirt, a grey, oversized sweater and tried to put it on me. He ripped off the rest of my old shirt and gently put the sweater over my head and my arms through the holes. I tried to stop my tears, but I couldn’t stop sniffling.
“Crybaby…” He didn’t spare another glance at me before he turned and left, leaving me with my demons.