The closet was dark and seemed to be getting more cramped as he grew. He figured he should've been used to it by now, really he should, but he wasn't. The closet always got to him, but that was expected, he didn't know what'd he'd do once it didn't. Perhaps it was a good thing, who knew what his master might come up with as punishment if the time-outs in the closet didn't work anymore. The boy didn't think he'd survive if the beltings got any more severe or frequent. Everytime he was locked in the closet and heard his master and the pack returning, he recalled the very first time he heard their prowling.
How many full moons ago it had been he couldn't remember, but it only seemed like yesterday or yesternight really. The boy's thoughts pondering whether yesternight was even a word kept the memories at bay for a few precious moments longer, but it was inevitable. He could remember hearing his father scream for him to hide in the closet. His father used a spell to close it before everything was completely silent. Howling echoed from farway, coming closer, and the cracking and splintering of wood from the door being broken. The howls became growls and snarls, and then his father's screaming. His screams stuck the boy to his core; so terrible and pain filled. The boy unconsciously screamed with his father, until his voice turned hoarse and he couldn't separate memory from reality any longer.
The closet door was wrenched open and his master grabbed his arm with his claw-like hand and effortlessly flung the boy into the middle of the room. With a hard thud, the boy landed on his back aggravating the welts of his latest his teeth against the pain he quickly got to his knees, keeping his head down and the palms of his hands upwards to show his complete submission to his master. He made sure to keep his mouth shut as speaking was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place.
His master stopped in front of him. The boy hoped the master didn't notice him flinch. If he got this right then hopefully he'd be left alone for the night, and maybe even be able to get some leftovers.
His master barked, "Got anything to say, boy?"
The boy kept quiet. That question wasn't meant to be answered. He'd learned that long ago.
The rest of the pack spoke in hushed tones, but the boy could feel their mocking wasn't the youngest or the oldest of the pack, but he was definitely the Omega. He was the weakling. Instead of answering his master's question he showed his submission thus reinforcing his place in the pack hierarchy; at the very bottom. He probably shouldn't feel embarrassed anyone about prostrating himself in front of everyone, but he still did. His master knew that and he revealed in it. The boy didn't think he could hate anyone as much as he hated his master.
Staying kneeled down, he leaned forward until his forehead touched the floor between his master's feet with his fingertips barely touching the tips of his master's boots. Lastly, he turned his head to the side, exposing his throat, and going as limp as he could.
"Good dog."
His master sneered with a hint of dark amusement. Before the boy could let out a sigh of relief his master struck. His boot hit the boy square on the shoulder toppling him over and landing him on his back one again. He'd hoped to be spared this final enactment of his humiliation, but one look at his master told him enough. He wouldn't be spared from anything tonight. He was the pack punching bag. It was his role as the omega after all; provide entertainment for the master and the pack.
Remaining still on his back, his master put his boot down on his torso. The boy almost snorted, but managed to keep it in. His master already had it in for him tonight and pointing out he had already submitted utterly and completely after his first stay in his master's closet would be a bad idea. Mentioning that at any given time was always a bad idea. He showed his master his stomach after fifteen lashes and a stay in the closet illustrated quite nicely why.
His master waved for one of the others to come forward, and he heard the scampering of feet. Judging by the sound, it had to be Nicky. Nine years old, only part of the pack for a year, and still above the boy in the hierarchy.
Nicky appeared by his master's side carrying a plate. He locked down on the boy with malevolent glee, and the boy couldn't stop himself from sneering at him. He smoothed out his expression quickly, as he felt the tip of his master's boot press into the hollow of his throat. He turned his head to the side once again and allowed his master to make slashing motions across his throat with his boot. He knew the intent behind the motion. His master told him on many occasions that he was there to serve him and the pack, and if the boy proved too difficult his master would have no problem ripping him to shreds. The boy believed him without a doubt. He'd seen what his master's nails and teeth could do, full moon or not.
His master asked, "Still hungry, boy?" His voice almost a nice tone. It set the boy on edge. Nice was something that didn't ever get directed at him, but he was starving. So hungry, it had been his reason for opening his mouth in the first place. Lying to his master now would be useless, especially after his stomach grumbled loudly as his nose caught a whiff of the food on the plate, "Yes, Master." He answered softly and respectfully trying to keep the desperate need from his voice.
His master asked again in the almost nice voice, "You'd like this then, wouldn't you, boy?"
The boy risked a glance at the hand his master was waving in front of him. The sight and smell of the bit of potato had him salivating. To further his humiliation, he could feel a dribble of saliva run out of the corner of his mouth.
"Well." His master spoke again and the boy watched as the small piece of food disappear into his master's mouth with dismay, "That's just too bad."
The boy tried his best to hide the disappointment on his face, but he failed terribly. The smirk on his master's face told him so. He said, "Tell you what." His master continued, "You go hunting and we'll see you back in two hours."
A swift kick to the side told him that he should get moving right away, but he was too stunned by his master's words. He was allowed to go hunting. He was allowed to go outside. The last time had been almost ten full moons ago, and that had been after he had pleased his master and-The boy didn't have to see the smirk of gleam in his master's eye as the realization came to him.
"Yes, boy, you can show us your gratitude later. Now go."
He didn't need any more encouragement as he got up and ran from the den. He ran through many twisted corridors and out the front door. He only stopped running once he was well into the surrounding forest almost a quarter mile from the den. The cool air was delicious on his face and he stood a couple minutes simply soaking it in. He looked up to the sky for the moon, but it was hidden behind clouds. Even so, he knew it was waxing and the full moon would be in a few days time. Making his way deeper into the forest he picked random berries from the bushes. He'd have to catch something himself and eat it raw. He shuddered at the thought. Eating raw meat when they were in their human guise was disgusting, but he was hungry enough to not turn up his nose at the idea. He needed to catch something, eat something more filling than berries, he'd need the energy later if his master's suggestion meant anything.
The boy arrived at the stream that wound its way through the forest and sat down on a fallen tree trunk beside it. Staring forlornly at the water, the boy felt nausea rise as his stomach constricted at the thought of what was awaiting him upon his return to the den. He didn't want to show his gratitude. He had nothing to be grateful for, but of course it didn't matter. What he felt or wanted hadn't mattered for a long time.
He could remember his father asking what he'd like for breakfast on his sixth birthday. He'd asked for strawberry ice cream, chocolates, and sweets. HIs father had tried to look disgusted at his choices, but a small smile gave his act away. He conjured the boy the largest coupe he had ever seen with the chocolates and sweets floating around it. They had eaten it together, and the boy had felt pretty sick afterwards.
"We can't have the birthday boy sick, now can me." HIs father had said with a wink and handed him a potion, "Maybe next time you'll know better than to ask for such a concoction, little gem."
There never would be a next time because two weeks later his father would be dead; killed by his master and his pack. Everyone else in the village, dead, all except for him. The boy hadn't been found until the next morning hiding in the closet. He'd wished so many times that he had died that night even though he knew his father wouldn't want him to think of such things. His father had told him the story about how they both barely escaped an attack by evil wizards. They killed his mother and sisters and everyone else in the village. Not for food, or a means to survival, but because they hated muggles and and wizards who associated with them. An evil dark wizard had wanted to cleanse the world of them.
They boy hadn't and didn't understand that. They lived with muggles, his mother had been a muggle. He was just the child of a wizard and muggle. They had never done anything to hurt others, and yet his parents and all the other innocent people had been killed. At least werewolves had the excuse to not have control of themselves once a month. Those evil reasons had no other reason other than their beliefs. His father couldn't explain it either, but he some people were nice and some weren't and that applied to every creature. Even dark creatures, like vampires and werewolves could be nice and many muggles weren't as accepting of magic as those in their village. The bottom line was simple; not everything's black and white. It was up to them to nice nice towards others and keep fighting against those filled with hatred and cruelty no matter what they threw at them.
Tears streamed down his cheeks and the boy wiped them away angrily. He wondered if his father still loved him, knowing he had wanted to die rather than live, and that he'd given up fighting. Knowing he was a creature that considered human their prey; would his father still love him? He'd never eaten human flesh, but he would if it moved him up in the pack, even if it was just one peg. It was exactly why his master denied him that.
The boy didn't know anymore whether he was nice or not, and he didn't care. His existence was for the entertainment of others and he had no way out. He'd tried to run on several occasions in the past. He tried to oppose his master, never challenging him directly, he wasn't stupid, but he tried to maneuver odds to go in his favor. Everytime he failed miserably. The boy shook himself from his morose thoughts and looked up at the sky. An hour had passed already. He needed to get moving if he was going to eat. He got up from the tree trunk and lept over the stream. Last year, there had been a rabbit hole around somewhere.
Just as the boy started walking a slight rustle caught his ear. He sniffed the air and was surprised to smell a human; probably some muggle who'd gotten lost. His earlier thought came back to him. If he could catch a human and drag it back to the den then maybe he'd please his master. Maybe, just maybe he wouldn't have to show his gratitude.
Slowly and cautiously the boy made his way in the direction of the scent. The human hadn't moved from his position making it far more easy. The boy inhaled deeply to get a better hint of the scent. It was a nice smell, enticing and masculine, but there seemed to be something wrong with it. Something vaguely familiar, but at the same time it wasn't. The boy tried hard, but he couldn't place it. Of course, his master never took him out on the training sessions he did with the rest of the pack.
The boy was close to the man, and he hoped he'd have the element of surprise. The boy was sure the man was an adult, and being as small as he was, he'd need every advantage he could get. He inched forward a little more and could see the back of him. The man wasn't all that impressive. The man looked slim and unassuming from behind. With such a scent, the boy imagined someone larger than life, because someone with a scent like that had to be an Alpha. The boy stopped dead in his tracks only a few feet behind the man.
He'd been about to attach another werewolf, an Alpha, and if he wasn't mistaken, a wizard at that. The man was obisiousy seeking out his master. Why else would he be here. The boy's heart pounded in his chest and his breath quickened at the thought of all the trouble he had gotten himself into. He vaguely noticed the man turning around with his wand pointed at him. Before the world went black, his last coherent thought was the tired looking man really didn't look all that intimdating for an Alpha.