Chapter 2: HOUSE OF CARDS
Life was normal. His morning alarm was the same -
"You told me you'd take care of it already, Rick. Why is the kitchen table being used as a laundry basket, when we need to eat breakfast?"
There, that was Carl's crow in the morning. Like clockwork, like the sun setting - life was normal.
He buried his face into his pillow with a burning sigh. The space between his bed and bedroom door couldn't be any closer, he thought. With his arms wrapped around his pillow, he clung onto the warmth that seeped into the cushion from his own heat during the night.
"Dirty dishes in the sink, again! Instead of doing what you promised, you went out with your buddies last night. And explain to me why I have to iron your uniform for today?"
'Nothing out of the ordinary,' Carl thought as he idly squeezed his pillow tighter. Any tighter and he'd smother himself.
"I don't give a shit! Shane isn't you, he doesn't have a mate or child to worry about!"
He snorted into his pillow and shifted his limbs into a slow creeping stretch that began from sock-clad toes to the tip of his nose. A wistful twist pulled the edges of his lips downward.
Life was normal for every resident in the Grimes household.
Where doors slammed shut with a protesting squeal of hinges, where demands were made and accepted as commands, where closed doors didn't give you enough space. There was a gap underneath doors, where light slithered into his false sanctuary.
His bedroom door wasn't soundproof, you'd think he would've adapted overtime and became a deep sleeper.
"That boy never wakes up when he needs to," Lori Grimes glanced at her wristwatch, before throwing a look at her boy's closed door. She briefly wondered when the white paint started peeling, before shouting, "Carl, rise and shine, breakfast is ready!"
Down the end of the hall, Carl's door remained closed. No noise, no light, nothing except silence.
Lori brushed wayward curls out of her face, grimacing as she got a whiff of her sharp scent emitted from her wrist glands.
She sat down at their kitchen table, ignored the piles of clothes laid in heaps on its surface, and rubbed at her temples.
"Thank you for fixing breakfast, Lori, I'll get the house in-shape after work."
"Rick," the blood in her veins rushed a little faster, and her fingers pressed harder into her throbbing head, "Enough."
He blinked in response. In a robotic motion, he sank into the chair beside hers and reached for her hands, stopping her from self-soothing her headache.
"I'm tired of feeling this way," she pulled her hands into her lap, forcing him to stop grazing the scent gland at her wrists. "Rick . . . we need to talk."
"I'm listening," he endeared, but was he better off being silent? Why did she insist on repeating his name? "I know the house isn't -"
'Perfect,' he broke off his speech. "Is laundry that important to you? I can get half the load folded and put away, right now. When I get back tonight . . ."
She was dead tired of hearing ' later - I'll take care of it later.' A broken noise slipped from Lori.
And it ceased all of his thoughts. It was instinctual in a way that he knew she hated. He reacted with his own growl , fangs flashing in a show of protection against an unknown threat. His entire body moved without his control, and he pulled her into his embrace, puffs of hot breath flitted around her ears.
Nothing felt more soothing than a mate's rumbling chest, hearts pressed together, and entwining scents deepening their bond.
She shook her head, freeing herself. His scent smoldered their kitchen up to their throbbing necks. Her hands dug into the curves of his shoulders.
Maybe she pushed him away from her, afraid her heart was rattling against her ribs, because he would feel the frantic rhythm if she allowed him close.
"We can figure out laundry and dirty dishes right now."
His head dropped on her shoulder, and rubbed his nose into the crook of her neck, he pressed a firm kiss directly over her main scent gland, and the effect was simultaneous for her.
Her fangs flashed in the natural light that flooded the kitchen, her hands clawed at his shoulders to press their two bodies closer, and she suddenly had only one desperate thought flooding her brain: 'mine.'
The fog of 'mine, mine, my mate!' terrorized Lori, it crept slowly into every part of her being, slow enough that she could retreat into her mind.
Her head shook as she fought against the fog. She was an alpha, she wasn't meant to follow anyone. "Don't!" she warned her mate. He wasn't her leader, they had a partnership. She was her own, and he was his own. They were together, but separate.
He had no right, she believed, her chest heaving as she shut out the fog from directing her every thought to worship her mate and ignore her own suffering in return. She got nothing good from following her instincts.
"You don't get to do that to me," she glared, her hands shook and felt crippled as she pushed her hair back and out of her reddening face. "You can't do that." She flew out of his arms and stood with her chest puffed and teeth flashing as she snarled.
She shifted her shoulders and the muscles in her neck twisted. She didn't have to search for the source of her ache, because he left his scent on her main gland. His long ago mating bite that had pierced her neck gland was now coated in a fresh film of his scent.
Rick sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He needed something to hold after she couldn't wait to tear herself out of his arms. "I only wanted to help you."
"Forcing me to shut up and submit? We're partners," she crossed her arms over her chest, "You can't do that to me," she threw a frustrated look at her son's door, "We're not done talking, but Carl should be awake soon."
She untensed her hands, not wanting to give into the urge to leap at her mate.
Rick sighed, uttering a small quip, "Sometimes talking does us no good."
She frowned, scent wavering. His nose detected the small changes in his mate. "No. Sometimes, in fact, a lot of the time I think you don't talk enough. Sometimes I wonder if you care about us at all. You can't control me, Rick. Don't try me, you won't like it."
The words shot without warning and left him bleeding raw in his chest. He flinched away from her.
"Uh, time to go?" a small utterance came from afar. "I'll eat on the road."
The couple separated further, unknowingly their bond drew them together and had them leaning into each other during their argument, mere inches apart. Maybe he had a point about them not talking and doing.
She continued, as if her mate's bodily response meant nothing. If he wanted them to talk 'later,' then he'll get what he wanted, she fumed.
"All right, but you're having a full plate," Lori chided Carl, knowing his habit of buying two school lunches because he didn't eat breakfast.
Sliding into the front passenger seat, Carl buckled himself in with a smooth shlink! of the seatbelt locking into place.
A knock jolted him out of his distracted thoughts, and his mom appeared on the other side of the door, "Have a good day, Carl."
He thought he faintly responded, more focused on what his mom had said earlier, 'sometimes I wonder if you care about us at all.'
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Life was the same. Ana brushed her teeth with the same toothbrush every morning for six months now, her other hand furiously wiped the film of water that dulled the bathroom mirror every morning.
She darted her eyes to the timer set upon the counter. Tick! tock! tick!
Mouth closed around the toothbrush, she rushed a braid, puffed and unruly curly hair forced to comply into something manageable.
2 minutes left.
'What do they expect?' The critique of her hair was inevitable. Throwing the tail of her braid over her shoulder, she bent over the sink to clear her mouth.
Tick!
"It's my turn!"
Tock!
Someone hammered the other side of the door. Ana's shoulders hunched and she hastily took a step away from the demanding sound.
"Get out, omega!" the door handle turned back and forth in a teasing manner.
Her stomach twisted into knots, only bits of toothpaste fed the hungry beast. Breakfast was at 6:30 in the morning. Sharp. On time or nothing at all, because she wasn't a baby.
Luckily, Ana was punctual, but last night's dinner was an exception. The pounding on the door continued to shake the door off its hinges. A screw had been missing from the top hinge since she arrived all those months ago.
Tick!
Tock!
"-Piece of shit, listen to me, omega, it's my turn. I'm not afraid of seeing your small tits and ass!"
Ana couldn't stop her glare at the door handle. Nails dug inside her curled fists, her fangs dully shone as she dropped her mouth and hissed. Omegas had the smallest fangs out of all humans, but she could still bite.
'Oh, no, ' she blinked out of her fuming haze, when the responding growl answered her, the angry sound had sealed her fate. Instincts were near impossible to ignore. She held her head in her hands, fingers almost breaking hairs at the roots from her tense hold. "Stupid."
"You little shit!"
The doorknob squeaked once for a final turn, in a gust of stale air full of swampy hatred, the door burst open but there wasn't a noise of it slamming against the wall.
Ana whimpered, she couldn't help the pathetic noise. An omegan chirp for help hummed high in her throat. Her teeth grinded together to aid the spread of her pleas. Omegas emitted noises that couldn't be learnt or taught, it was simply known deep in their bones and as old as time. The helpless chirps refused to stop, even with her own hand pressed against her throat to smother the sounds.
She stared hard at the floor, hating this part the most. She had to fight against her instincts, she had no choice. Her eyes refused to lift up and face the menace.
From the doorway, she gathered enough wits and with heaviness weighing her eyes to submit and stay lowered, she lifted her gaze to see the timer held in the other girl's hand, its dial ticking time, and her other hand held the door handle. She had stopped the door from hitting the bathroom wall.
Ana cowered, darting her attention to the floor at her feet - an urge omegas had when met with aggressive alphas and their fuming scents that demanded you wilt or else.
She wilted, chin tucked to her neck, knees quaking, and toes digging into the floor through her socks. It gave the alpha a view of her scruff covered by their pack's collar, insignia charm hung from the closure.
Wilting. Submitting took her deeper into the ache within her being, it pulled her into a place where trust was taken, not given. Where a choice didn't seem like a choice, not when the threat of an alpha compelled her to wilt and fall to her knees.
"Time's up," the girl informed, smiling when she strode inside the bathroom and met no resistance. Ana clenched her jaw, mouth sewn shut.
A strong hand lifted her off and out into the hallway. She held in her whimpers, distressed chittering wept from her. The broken sounds were meant to call for care, for an alpha to stop and listen. What had she done to deserve an alpha like this breathing down her neck?
"You wanna help me wash up? Not like you'd do much except look pretty. Pretty useless , but don't worry," the girl snarked.
"When your hole is ready for a knot I'll know just what you can do. When I'm done with you, I'll bring you back to your Dam, he wouldn't want to miss your debut," a lewd gesture with her tongue and hand caused Ana to throw herself away from the other, scent of disgust pouring out of all her glands. "D'you want to surprise him with new tricks?"
'No. What she wanted? She wanted to get away,' but her hands wanted to steal the room back and throw the other girl out - 'invading my space - this was my time and she talked about my Dam.'
Ana's eyes snapped up when the alpha stepped closer. She narrowed her eyes, but only received a smirk, "I'd love to lend a hand."
Hatred filled Ana, a poisonous gas spread and suffocated her insides to the brim before it spilt out of her scent glands. She bared her teeth at the threat. She would bite the girl's hand off if she dared touch her.
Her head thrummed. Anger held all of her attention as her hands tingled all the way down to her fingertips. Her nails wanted to drop into claws and make the threat leave. She wouldn't wilt to this dumb alpha.
She huffed, the angry pout on her face was less of a threat and more of a warning when emitted from an omega. ' Don't touch me' her scent told the other, her omega noises warned.
Ana knew her instincts were supposed to help her, and she wanted to claw the girl apart, but right now, with an Alpha threatening her, she knew she was useless to save herself if she left her mark on the girl.
They had different rules here. Ana gulped, swallowing another call for help before it became audible. The entire pack would say Ana asked for attention. 'Looking for a lesson,' they smirked at her, 'Lonely Omega needing a firm hand to scruff her neck.'
"Think you're better than me? I can mark you and then you have to listen to my every single word. I can make you obey me, you know? I can make you do things you don't want to do, because you won't say anything."
They had different rules here, but Ana didn't do just anything to survive.
"I can make you mine," a smug smirk lined thin lips, "Wouldn't you like to finally belong? I'll take good care of you."
Tick! TockKKKK! The timer released its note within the alpha's hand. The final chime shook the dial, as its cycle came to an end and time ran out.
Ana's voice was held captive, and it was too late to escape. That was life in a nutshell: running out of time, running out of choices.
A whoosh of air rushing at her was the only warning before the edges of her shoulder blades flattened into the strong tiles.
She wriggled, hissed while blood rose to her face. She forcefully dug her extending claws into the other girl's flesh. There was no aim, no stopping where she landed her slashes.
The alpha roared and stumbled when a flailing hand scraped her neck. Bright blood escaped broken skin.
Red red red.
Her hands, poised defensively, became coated in the substance. Sliding and slipping off her fingertips, the red smelt of iron and choking, possessive desire that wanted to paralyze Ana.
Her breathing came faster, more shallow and skimming the surface of too little.
And then she fell. Into the red rage, and into herself. The world became a blur of hate hate hate.
The alpha flashed her large fangs, the sheen of white gleamed artificially under the bathroom's dimly lit lights.
Ana only saw white before she slammed her eyes shut. She could only hear a dull roar as the space between her mind and body fell away. There was another in the room with her, their heartbeat echoed inside her chest, beating with her own ribcage. It hurt hurt hurt.
Then there were more, and her heart didn't fit within her the right way, with so many others taking hold of her senses.
She tore her hands away from her eyes, but she still couldn't see. Had her body betrayed her again?
The verbal threats continued, spitting vile insults and names. Every word washed over Ana, the alpha's lips smacked open and closed, slowly but surely, her ears rang with a dull buzz echoing and leaving tingles as her hearing became too much to handle.
"No, no!" She cried out as she felt the shroud of a rough fabric bound around her head. The elastic itched and pulled the spindly hairs of her eyelashes and pulled her ears against her scalp.
Hands pressed and prodded, and then she was airborne. Weightless and out of control.
She hissed, calling for help, 'please please please!' There was nothing to hold her to the ground.
She called out again, meeting a void of darkness and far from any sounds. 'Where are you? Where? Can you hear me?' Screeched out of her desperate noises. 'Dam? Alpha?'
In the space where her body and mind met, she knew knew the hands had done something.
Something wasn't at home in her own body. Sweat clung to her, the sticky wet saltwater showed her fear to the hands holding her, and she burned burned.
When she was younger, she had a brilliant idea to wrap her palm around a frosted metal fence during a harsh winter. Ana recalled the harsh thump in her heart when the cold surface latched onto her hand. Heat had drained from her hand, stolen and torn away until her flesh was numb and paralyzed.
And now, years later, her insides were scalded from a deep cold washing through her veins, the flooding of 'too cold, I'm too cold,' made her breaths shallow. Lips blue, she couldn't muster a croon for help.
A pinprick pierced her skin. Giant hands swayed her body in the air, taking her away, but they did nothing to anchor her mind to her body.
They ripped her apart, uncaring and thoughtless.
'Alone, 'm alone, where are you?' streams of pleading rippled within her being, 'I'm here, where are you?'
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/) /)
( ᵔ . ᵔ )
/ づ づ ~ (don't mind me worldbuilding) *author whistles and strolls away*
