Complications (BxB)

Chapter ONE

Blake's POV*

As he bent me over the bed frame and whipped me, I cried out in pain. Wondering how someone could possibly deserve this treatment.

All you could hear echoing through the room were my screams of agony and the leather with silver embeddings hitting my bare skin. I already have trillions of scars; these will just heal up to add to what's already on display.

I was the Alphas kid before the Beta killed him and took over, now I'm simply an Omega. Used for cooking and cleaning around the pack house.... I don't want to go into detail about my punishments if I disobey.

We are known as the RedMoon Pack.

Second Strongest. The strongest pack is known as the SilverBlood Pack just north of here.

"Had enough yet?" Dave smirked down at me as he pulled my hair, forcing me to look up at him.

"Yes." Is all I could choke out. This man was going to kill me. Well, to an inch of my life anyway.

"Really?" He taunted, "Because I don't think you have." Anger, I had to swallow, along with my pride. Why even fucking ask if you were going to decide the answer for me?

I was tempted to beg, but I knew better- that'd only land me more of this torture. He kept looking at me with his sinister smile, daring me to look away.

Not being able to help myself, I caved and tore my eyes from him. I couldn't stand the look on his face as he towered over me. I heard him laugh. Attempting to keep the tears away did me no good, they streamed down my bruised and bloodied cheeks, stinging all the cuts on their way down.

"Blake, oh Blake. Is the poor thing crying? Oh, how sweet." He continued to taunt me. I gritted my teeth to keep from saying anything, still not having the courage to face him and his actions. He made me feel as disgusting as he actually was as a person.

It was sickening.

"Okay, okay. I've had my fun. It's time for lunch anyway. Clean your pathetic ass up and get to the kitchen." He hissed, venom clear in his voice as he pushed off against me, lifting his weight from my body.

Nodding, I sat limp on the dirty mattress he so kindly graced me with as he unchained me from the silver chains holding me down. He threw them down with a laugh, no sense of real humor in his tone. Disregarding me like the trash he would have me believe that I am, he zipped himself up and made for the stairs.

"I hate that man." I whimpered to myself in a small voice as I pulled my broken body up from the bed, watching his figure disappear out the door above.

Dragging my sore body to the shower in this room, I smiled as the warm water stung all the cuts tainting my pale skin. Feeling as if I deserved the pain, having allowed that man to treat me as if I was nothing. I was nothing.

My wrist and ankles still stung from the silver chains. My back also covered in scars, fresh and old, stinging under the water, blood pooling at my feet. Reaching for the soap, I began to wash. Knowing time wasn't on my side, having to make lunch, I rushed to clean my body as fast as it would allow.

My body shivered against the cold air in the basement that contrasted dreadfully against the once warm water I had since turned off. Pulling myself and my thoughts together, I put on what little ointment I was offered, wrapping my torso in bandages and praying the blood wouldn't seep through to my white shirt as I pulled the rest of my clothes on. A simple t-shirt and jeans, not bothering with shoes, my socks would have to be enough.

With that, I dragged myself up the stairs and out of the dingy basement, hissing every few steps from the pain it caused and starting on my way to the kitchen.