Too Beautiful for the Alpha novel Chapter 11

October 17th, 1991

I was in the bath last night and thought about drowning myself, then I realized that my body would never let that happen so grabbed my razor from the shower and broke it to get at one of the blades. I sat in the bath and repeatedly pressed it against my skin, but I was too scared of death to go through with it. I hid the broken razor under the cabinet where the little slot at the top leaves just enough room to hold it. He'd never see it. The only reason I found the slot was because I was looking hard enough. It is there with the blade, and I know I should not keep it, but it is nice to know that I have a way out.

It has gotten worse. I never want to go outside anymore, and when I try to get dressed and look nice, everything I put on makes me upset because I hate everything I own. I sit in the bedroom when James is gone, and when he's back I sit in the library. No one ever goes in the library so I have made it my little place.

October 23rd, 1991

I am in the bathroom again. James is sleeping. I had to write something about this down because I cannot think straight. We had sex. Just two hours ago. I did not provoke him like before, I was not dressed nice or asking for it like before. Actually, I had completely let it go for a few weeks and this came as a surprise. He did not ask me if I wanted to because he knew that I had tried before. I could not tell if he wanted to or not, which is what had me in distress. It may have been a job for him. The thought of being pregnant makes me sad.

It felt good. I closed my eyes and imagined that he was enjoying himself and that made me feel better. He did not complain or anything like that. It had to feel good for him too.

Maybe a baby is what we need. Maybe a baby will bring us together. He cannot hate me if I'm creating his child, can he? I do not think so. I think this will make him happy. I will hope for it then, a child. I will hope even harder for a boy even if I had always thought of having a girl. He needs to know that I can do this job well. I can provide what he needs. I will check the library tomorrow for any books on pregnancy and childcare. I will be good at this.

I set the diary to the side and get up from my bed. Broken lamps were swiped up, bookshelves were picked up, things were back to normal besides the shattered ones. Alpha Grant is gone, so I make my way down the hall and into his bedroom. There's his scent again, but I power through it and venture into the bathroom. It too is dark. The tiles in the shower are dark, the counter is a dark granite, and the towels are a deep grey. I open the cabinet under the first sink and feel around the top, but there's nothing, so I go to the next and feel for the slot, and I find it. My heart races as I take something out, a razor, a broken one. How? How could it still be there?

I study it and remember that there is the stray blade, but when I stick my hand back in to feel for it, I find nothing else. My heart drops. What had Julianna done with the stray blade?

I back out of the cabinet and lean against the wall, my legs sticking straight out ahead of me as I sit quietly. She sat in this bathroom, and I wonder where. I look down at the razor and squeeze it. The two blades are rusted terribly and the plastic has gone brown. The part where she had broken it is gone.

I will take the razor and place it under my sink.

It should be with me just like the diary. He does not deserve to have it here—not that he knows of it—it belongs with me, I understand her. He's just like his father, isn't he? You'd think he'd learn from past mistakes.

I hear someone coming up the stairs, and I freeze. Before I can decide on what to do, his bedroom doors open and I know that I am found. My scent must stick out like neon on black in here. Looking down at my hand, I stick the razor back in the slot just as the bathroom door opens and the cabinet door closes. Alpha Grant stands before me silent at first as if he's waiting to hear my excuse. I am in his bedroom. Oh, Goddess. There's no coming back from this, is there? He's going to kill my mother.

He looks angry, and my voice disappears. "Why are you in here?" He asks in his Alpha tone.

What do I say? That I went to the hidden library, stole likely his mother's diary, then came searching for the razor she nearly killed herself with? I swallow.

"I know you were in here before," he says, catching me off guard, "you laid in my bed."

My cheeks flush and I want to curl up in the corner. What am I supposed to say? "I-I came to get my things."

"And you assumed your things were in my bed?"

My eyes harden. "One of my things were, actually."

Alpha Grant crosses his arms. "And what would that have been?"

I stand up and push past him, excited to prove him wrong. I grab the sheets and push them back, picking up the first pillow, then the next, then I push back the covers some more, then I toss the pillows to the other side of the bed. "You moved it. You knew that I found it, so you moved it," I say accusingly while turning back to him.

He looks amused by my embarrassment. "So you found what? A book? And you left it here after you found it? And now you're back again looking through the bathroom for more things?"

I just want him to give me some clarity. I just want to know why.

Alpha Grant

I remember the day my mother died. I was young. My father told me to wait in my bedroom while she was taken from the bathtub. Noises came through the door as my father led two men into their bedroom, into the bathroom where her dead body was. They carried her out—I heard them come down the hall—and an hour later one of the house workers came to get me for dinner like nothing had happened.

I told the woman, Theresa, to wait for me downstairs because I wanted to change my clothes. When she was gone I went into my parent's bathroom and stared into the tub as if it was a gateway to hell. The water was marbled with her blood and slowly turned to a pool of unearthly ruby. I stepped in and sat down in the mixture of my mother and the bathwater until Theresa found me and pulled me out. I remember the water was warm and reeked of iron.

Years later my father told me that Mates make you weak. He told me that he'd made the mistake of letting my mother in, but once he did, he had set himself up for ruin. He told me that Mates die, and once they do, you die with them.

My father told me to never have a Mate. He told me this until he died a year after I took over the pack.

Once she brought the knife to her neck, I knew she was like my mother, I knew she would ruin me. She is just like her. My mother was emotional, dramatic, beautiful, depressed, loving, defensive and testing when needed. My father gave in, that was his mistake.

She tested me today—she is always testing me—and I almost lost it.

I could give in like my father. I could love her, I could really love her. But it is too late. If I let her in now, the past would repeat itself. My father treated my mother like I am treating her, in the beginning. Then he gave in, but she was still broken from the time before, she was mentally tainted from the distancing and reject. In the end, she died because of what happened before my father let her in.

I have tainted her. It is too late. She will always be broken if I keep her. If I let her in now, I will lose her.

I need to set her free, she needs to heal, but something inside of me can't. I can't let her go. I am selfish.