Camila

Zara

The bright yellow sunlight woke me from a horrible sleep, even though I hadn't slept, but had passed out, after all the punches, slaps and kicks I'd received from my father, yes, my father, the one who was supposed to love me unconditionally, look after me and protect me, he was the one who beat me every day, I'd lost count of how many times a day he found an excuse to come down to the basement I called my room and beat me.

I forced myself to stand up, my whole body ached, the old wounds hadn't even healed and there were already new ones, as I wasn't yet a wolf my body didn't heal like other werewolves, my healing was still faster than a human's, but it was still slow compared to other werewolves, it couldn't keep up with the pace of the beatings I suffered on a daily basis.

Even though I was in pain, I got up and put on a pair of worn-out jeans I had, which had faded a long time ago, their blue hue gone to an odd grayish color, but it was the only one I had, so it would have to do for a long time, and I grabbed a long-sleeved shirt from the small box next to the old mattress I was sleeping on, my father didn't like me showing the marks of his aggression to those who visited the pack house, I tie up my brown hair with a piece of cloth, it was the only thing I had to tie up my hair, I survived on the bare minimum. Dragging my feet, I climbed the stairs until I came out near the kitchen. Few people knew about the existence of that basement, I'd rather it was like this, because fewer people would harass me.

I got to the kitchen and the old cook was already there. When she saw me coming, she gave me an angry look while she was making the coffee.

“You think you're on vacation, Zara,” she says, placing the bottle of coffee on a tray, ”do you want Alpha James to know about this?"

My eyes widened in terror at the mere mention of my father's name.

"No Mara! Please don't tell him,” I said, kneeling down and holding the hem of her dress, my body still hadn't recovered. If my father hit me again, I probably wouldn't even be able to walk the next day, Mara had a scornful smile on her face, I knew she didn't like me, nobody did, I often saw her laughing at me while my father beat me.

“Let's see how you behave today,” she says, kicking me with her foot and knocking me to the ground. I put my hand to my chest, feeling one of my wounds open with her blow.

“What are you still doing there?” he says, kicking me again.

I took the tray from the table and went into the living room to serve Alfa, my hands were sweating with every step I took, I couldn't make any mistakes or I'd be severely punished, when I got to the living room my father was reading the newspaper and I approached him with the tray in silence.

"Do you want Alfa coffee?" He had long forbidden me to call him father, it was on one of the occasions when he was beating me that I begged for my life by calling him father, he had slapped me across the face telling me that a bitch like me didn't have a father, from then on I would only refer to him as Alfa.

“Yes,” he said without looking at me, which was a relief. I poured his cup and put the bottle on the table, waiting further away in case he called, I wasn't allowed to eat with them, my food was what was left over from the meals they made, everyone ate before me, even the other servants in the house.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Paola, my sister, came in, beeping, and from the look on her face she wasn't happy. My father put down his newspaper and looked at her with affection.

"What's wrong, darling?" Paola was a year older than me, and we were very different in appearance, while I had straight brown hair, she had curly blonde hair just like my mother had, her skin was fair and mine was dark, I had brown eyes and she had inherited my father's blue eyes.