Rejected, Abused, I Fall for the Forbidden Alpha (by Riley Scott) novel Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Raven POV

It’s dark. I feel exposed as I stand there, my eyes dipping down to see that I’m standing there in a hospital gown. I feel strange, darkness surrounding me. There’s no sign of light, no sign of an exit. It’s like I’m in a bubble, unable to escape, my arms spreading wide as I try to feel my way through. Nothing. I can’t even feel a floor beneath my feet. It’s surreal. Had I died? Was this heaven? Or worse was this hell?

Memories, painful ones that I had buried long ago, begin to flood through my mind, instantly paralysing me. Ones I would rather forget. I close my eyes, breathing shallowly.

I’m young. No older than four years old. I cringe as my mother looms over me, her expression one of displeasure, her lips curled back. She strikes me, hard, across my hands, shaking her head. I cry out, afraid, not sure what I’ve done wrong.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to touch your sister’s things?” she growls.

I just wanted to see it. Marissa’s ball had been so tempting. She always had things to play with. I never got any. Just this once I wanted to see how it felt to hold it, possibly bounce it on the ground. Tears trickle down my cheeks, but my mother is unmoved. She’s cold as ice, her expression hard.

“You dirtied your sister’s dress,” my mother shrieks, Marissa, standing nearby, a wicked grin on her face.

“I didn’t,” I whisper, cowering on the floor.

She doesn’t believe me. She shoves me, hard. I cry out as I fall onto the ground. She grabs a nearby belt and begins to hit me on the back over and over as my screams fill the air. She’s ruthless and all over a stain that’s barely the size of a five cent coin.

“I’ll teach you not to touch things that aren’t yours. You disgusting, vile creature,” she spat, stopping only when she drew blood, and she was tired.

“How dare you show your sister up like that? Boasting about your grades and academic achievements in order to make her feel bad. You embarrassed her in front of her peers. You don’t get to go to school now,” she puts her face close to mine, “listen closely to me. Marissa is the only daughter I acknowledge. You are just an embarrassment, a pathetic creature. You should never have been born,” she breathed.

Slap. My head rears backwards, a bright red handprint on my cheek. She slowly and carefully picks up the whip, examining it closely. All I had done was remark on my report card, excitedly showing my mother all the A grades I had achieved. I had told my friends, and Marissa had cried due to her own poor grades.

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