"Look who's skipping Alpha Jaxon's birthday like she's some queen," Cory said, smirking as he walked into the living room. His eyes were sharp, and full of hate. I stayed quiet, sitting on the cold floor where I was scrubbing stains off the carpet.
Then my father's voice came. Loud, cruel and full of venom.
"You think you're better than everyone else because you're sitting there doing nothing? You worthless piece of filth."
But I didn't move.
My heart dropped as I kept my eyes down.
Then I heard heavy fast footsteps.
Suddenly, pain exploded in my head. My father had yanked me up by my hair and slapped me hard across the face. My cheek stung, and my ears rang.
"You want people to say we raised a shameful, lazy, useless Omega girl? You want them to mock us?"
His voice grew louder, and angrier. He threw me to the ground and my back hit the wooden floor, and I let out a small cry.
"You don't cry here," he spat, kicking me hard in the ribs.
I gasped, curling in pain, as my whole body ached.
My mother watched from the corner, sipping her tea, a cold smile on her face. She chuckled. Like she enjoyed watching me suffer.
"You're an embarrassment," she said coldly. "A good-for-nothing mouth to feed. Just breathing in air you don't deserve."
She turned to Cory, her favorite.
"Here's your suit, darling."
Cory collected the suit, grinning, then looked at me.
"Real women have value. Not like her. She's just... filth. A crawling, stinking waste of skin."
I still said nothing. I didn't even dare look up. My cheek was swelling already.
"Careful, Cory," my mother added, voice fake sweet. "She might start crying like a little puppy. Hahaha."
The laughter didn't come from anyone else. But the silence that followed was worse. It meant they didn't care. Not even enough to fake concern.
My father stared down at me, his face tight with rage. Then he spit on the floor near my face.
"Clean that," he growled.
I stayed still, ignoring him, which I later regretted because he suddenly grabbed the wooden cane by the doorway and slammed it down on my back. Once. Twice. Again. And again till I cried out.
"Please," I whispered. "Please stop."
"Not until you learn!" he roared, beating me harder. "This is what you get for being a useless Omega! You were born wrong! You should have never been born at all!"
Tears streamed down my face. But I couldn't scream anymore. My voice was gone.
When he was done, he threw the cane aside like it disgusted him. My mother stood up, dusted her dress, and walked past me like I didn't exist.
"Don't just lay there looking ugly," she said. "There are chores waiting. Try not to ruin the house more than you already have with your miserable presence."
They walked out the door, but Cory paused and looked back.
"Don't forget to wash my clothes again. And iron them properly. The ones you already washed stinks."
"They're dry already," I whispered weakly.
He sneered.
"Then wash them again. Stupid Omega."
He slammed the door.
The silence after they left was too loud.
I bit my lip until it bled, holding back the sobs as I lay my weak body on the floor, which didn't stop aching, as my body burned from the severe nonstop beatings. My clothes were torn and stained with blood. I felt like dirt. Even, less than dirt.
Then I remembered something.
Last week, I had cleaned Rosa's room when she'd invited me over but without my parents' knowledge. I had been saving up a little money with her for three years, so I could use it to get something meaningful for myself.
I wasn't planning to use it this way, but I needed to go to the Alpha's birthday. At least to be able to have a breath of fresh air for once.
All my life since I was born, I have never gone to any party, not even to have any free time for myself. It's always work, work and work. And punishment upon punishment.
But this time, I won't let anyone stop me.
When I was sure my parents or Cory won't be returning anytime soon, I wrapped a scarf around my bruised cheek and pulled on my old coat.
So I slipped out from the back door, walking quickly down the street.
My heart raced the whole way.
I reached the small thrift store at the corner of the road. The woman at the counter gave me a strange look, but said nothing.
I searched through racks of clothes. Most were too big or too dull. But then, hidden behind a torn curtain, I found a silver dress.
It was simple, but beautiful and stunning. My fingers trembled as I reached for it.
The price tag was old and faded. I counted the money in my hand, and it was just enough to purchase it.
I paid quickly and left, clutching the paper bag like it held gold.
I couldn't go back home yet. So I found a small public bathroom near the market and locked myself inside.
The light buzzed above me, and inside, I found a cracked mirror.
I opened the bag and pulled out the dress as I slowly undressed, flinching at every movement.
Then I slipped into the dress, which fit perfectly well around my body.
I stared at the girl in the mirror. Her eyes were tired, and swollen. Her lip was split. But I still had little strength of what was left of me.
I cleaned my face as best as I could with tissues. Brushed my hair with my fingers. It wasn't much. But it was something.
I fixed the scarf so it covered most of my cheek.
Then I stepped outside.
The cool breeze felt cold against my skin, but I held my head up.
I took a cab with the last of my money. The driver didn't ask questions. He just drove.