Enslaved by the Lycan king

I was fourteen when I saw what the real world was.

Waking up with the sound of screams and pleas, I remembered scrambling towards my door to see what was happening. But before I could even touch the knob, the door slammed open, revealing a man so tall and big that I immediately trembled in intimidation and fear.

“You’re coming with us, girl,” he said.

I could never forget the huge scar across his face. It started on his left brow towards the right side of his neck. I wondered what kind of creature could still live through what seemed like a deep wound in his body. Then I realized he wasn’t just any other man. He was some sort of a creature that could withstand what a weak person like me couldn’t.

Seeing that I was staring at his scar, the man growled at me that had me whimpering. His large hand grasped my arm. “Get inside that truck and do not make a sound.” 

Scared, I swallowed whatever screams I was about to get out of my throat. He pushed me, and with shaking legs, I walked out of our house. 

And that’s when I saw my Dad, on the patio. Bloody. Dead.

The trembling on my legs reverberated towards my stomach, towards my chest, traveling all around my body.