Desired By Four The Omegas Choice

HANNAH

"Look at her, the crazy daughter of a traitor."

"I hope she dies and-"

"And then we wouldn't have to see her face around here anymore."

"Why is she even here?"

I held the books closer to my chest. My steps faltered as I looked up and saw a whole lot of other students whispering and pointing at me.

The hallway seemed endless as I stood there, books in my sweaty hands and dread in my heart.

"Traitor!" someone yelled from behind me.

I forced myself to keep moving. I raised the books in a pathetic attempt to hide my face but soon gave it up when I found I couldn't see an inch in front of me. How they would laugh if I fell flat on my face.

It hurt, it really hurt, to be accused of something I didn't do, or to put it more accurately, something my father didn't do.

My father had been accused of trying to kill the Alpha and had been banished from the pack. He was innocent. I knew he was. I was sure he was banished because he had witnessed something terrible that the Alpha had done, something he didn't want to be exposed.

Like it was yesterday, I could see my father's tortured expression as he gripped my hands and said, "I didn't do it, Hannah. I swear I didn't. I know something, and he wants to get rid of me."

What that something was, I never knew because the Alpha's guards had arrived at that moment to take him away.

No one else had believed the story of my father's innocence.

I had never liked school. Never had I fit in with the other kids. I was not from a wealthy family. I was weak, weaker than the average werewolf because I couldn't shift and was not supposed to ever really amount to anything. Because of all these, I had been ignored.

Now, I was the centre of attention. The wrong sort of attention.

Every single minute of every day, I wished I had been allowed to leave the pack with my father, but even I realized the difficulties we would have faced.

Without a home, we would have had to live a life of rogues; never settled, always on the move. Also, the school I attended was the only werewolf school in the entire territory. I knew my father well enough to know he would never have wanted that sort of life for me.

I sighed and walked faster, hoping to get to class before the taunts worsened. Within the four walls of a classroom, I would be safe.

"Hey! Stop right there, wary face!"

The booming voice came from directly in front of me. I groaned before I raised my head. It was Arlene; big, pudgy Arlene who liked to pick on people.

What was worse? She was standing right in my path. I stepped to the side in order to escape, but she moved with me.

"Don't run away, Hannah," she said, her massive arms swinging by her sides.

"Let me pass," I mumbled.

"Let me pass," she mocked in a shrill, falsetto voice.

Raucous laughter greeted this. The other students were closer now. Like vultures, they had all gathered to see Hannah get it.

"I heard it's your birthday today," Arlene said, grinning widely. My heart sank. That was not good. Arlene only smiled when someone was in pain or when she was about to inflict pain. My muscles all tensed up. "Wanna see how we celebrate the child of a filthy traitor?"

Just as I opened my mouth to speak, Arlene nodded to someone behind me. The next instant, I was deluged with a bucketful of water. The brownish, stinking water dripped from my hair down to my feet. I stood frozen, mouth agape, shivering with cold and with the horror of what had just happened. But the horrors weren't over yet.

"You stink!" someone yelled and cackled madly.

A bubble gum wrapper hit me in the face. And then the pelting began. They threw everything they could lay their hands on at me.

"Traitor bitch!"

"Ugly as sin."

"Dirty-looking thing."

I held my hands stiffly by my side, my lips trembling with unshed tears as I looked around at them. Their mouths, their eyes, and their faces all ran together, merged together until it seemed like they were morphing into something evil. These people with their perfectly styled hair and their nice clothes were worse, much worse, than all the monsters of my imagination.

Something, a damp handkerchief with something hard hidden in it's folds, hit me square on the mouth. I tasted blood on my tongue.

I will not cry. I will not cry, I chanted.

But with every passing second, I felt the tears come perilously close to the surface.

"Show her! Show her how it feels to be the daughter of a traitor!" Arlene yelled with glee.