Male Luna

The child implored his mother with a desperate tone, "Please, do not subject me to this. I am willing to do anything. Allow me to remain here, for I cannot bear to continue living in solitude," he pleaded with great urgency.

The mother had barely opened her mouth when he dropped to his knees, nearly pressing his lips to her toes. His body was a canvas of violence, marked by the savage beating he had endured. Blood oozed from his wounds, staining his clothes and the ground beneath him.

Bruises bloomed on his skin like dark flowers, a testament to the brutality of his attackers. A copious amount of blood had pooled in his nasal cavity, and he had been deprived of three of his teeth.

With a fierce and unwavering stare, the woman fixed her eyes upon him, her anger palpable and uncontainable. The father stood by, a silent witness to his wife's cruel treatment of their son. He made no move to intervene, his inaction a stark contrast to the violence unfolding before him.

He was above assaulting his own son. The parents exhibited a distinct lack of concern for their offspring.

"Do not address me as your mother! As a mother, shame courses through my veins as I reflect on my actions. If only I had known how you would turn out," she whispered, her voice heavy with regret.

"I would have made a different choice." Her words landed on him like a heavy blow, as if he were a stranger to her, not the child she had carried and birthed.

Tears streamed down the boy's face as he let out heart-wrenching sobs and pitiful whimpers. In the heat of battle, his form is feeble and insubstantial. As he knelt before his parents, his heart heavy with desperation, they remained utterly unmoved by his pleas.

For a period of four long years, the young boy endured the torment of abuse. It all began when he was just twelve years of age, and now, at the age of sixteen, he still bears the scars of his traumatic experience.

"Leave this place at once, you wretched scoundrel! I would rather not have a son at all than one who is homosexual like you," the parent declared with a cold and callous tone.

The piercing sound of his mother's voice echoed through the room as she directed her anger towards him. The teenager bowed his head, a gesture of submission.

Ultimately, he proved to be a forlorn individual who preferred the solace of literature to the rigors of combat and physical training. His parents adamantly refused to accept his sexual orientation, a fact that would have otherwise made him the next in line to be an Alpha.

The elders, in order to preserve the pristine reputation of their family's Alpha lineage, imparted upon him the notion that he was afflicted with a curse. Consequently, they resolved to bestow the coveted title upon his younger sibling.

He had been subjected to abuse by every member of the Pack. The directive to proceed thusly emanated directly from his progenitors. Due to the relentless abuse and persistent bullying, there was a fervent hope that a transformation would occur within him.

The endeavor proved to be fruitless. As the relentless march of time pressed on, the situation deteriorated with alarming rapidity. The Pack had shunned him completely. It is a lamentable truth that their inclination is to inflict harm upon him rather than extend the hand of friendship, a circumstance that evokes great sorrow.

Those who identified as homosexuals, lesbians, bisexuals, and other non-heterosexual individuals were often viewed as societal outcasts. Within the pack, there existed no space for their presence.

The boy winced as his mother's hand connected with his cheek in a sharp slap. The Alpha, his father, swiftly rose from his seat and pulled him out into the hallway. "The moment had arrived to depart from the pack. Bringing you into this territory would be nonsensical!" His father said.