Chapter 1

Taylor's POV

"GET UP YOU LITTLE SLUT!" My 'father' screamed from the lower level of our cramped two story apartment, not caring about our close neighbors that were just on the other side of these paper thin, crumbling walls.

It's not like they care since they are to busy doing disgusting things on the other side of the wall, constant banging coming from the room that was right next to mine.

I rolled off the moldy, torn, mattress that laid in the corner of my room, onto the scratchy, cheap carpet that covered most of the apartment.

I stood up, popping the bones in my back in the process, groaning at the simmering pain that was still invading my whole body, spiking around my ribs.

I slowly got myself dressed, keeping the clothing light so it wouldn't cause so much pressure and toughness in my healing skin.

I slipped on a pair of back joggers, loosening the string around my waist and pulled a thin sweater that has a soft cotton on the inside, over my head.

After slipping on a pair of socks I make my way to the bathroom and to continue my morning routine.

I take a quick glance in the cracked mirror as I put toothpaste onto my toothbrush and slightly wince at the sight.

My brown curls were in large clumps and knots all over my head, black, ugly bags drooped under my vomit green eyes. My cheeks were hallowed in and I had a scar that ran down from my ear to my chin.

I brushed my white teeth -the only thing that wasn't screwed up about me even though a few were slightly cricked but it wasn't completely noticeable- and washed my face in cold water with a washcloth.

I glanced at the small box behind the toilet, weighing in my mind if it was a good moment. I had just used them yesterday and my arms were still torn and sore.

I decided against opening the small box of razor blades and start cleaning up the mess I made while getting ready.

Before I could finish up though, I heard a thumping sound coming up the stairs.

I cringed on the inside while I tried to control my shaking and labored breathing, knowing it will only be worse if I showed my undying fear.

My father slammed the door open, banging it against the wall, expanding the hole the started to form from the door knob.

"Whore! I wake up, go to work, make money, and pay the bills for your ungrateful ass, and you don't even have breakfast on the table so I can do so!" He sneered his double chin becoming more obvious. "I fucking want my breakfast or I'm going to beat your ass so bad you'll finally just die and do everyone a favor!"

He threw me to the ground, my head banging against the counter tile on the way down, causing a small cut to form and blood to drip out of it.

A few kicks and punches later, the attacks stopped but I kept my eyes sealed shut and body in a small ball.

"Stop withering on the ground like a weak bitch and get a move on!" He spat before exiting the room, pulling the door shut behind him with a large "thud" noise.

I slowly pull myself together and stand up. I gut-wrenching pain racks throughout my whole body before my head starts to spin rapidly. I lean against the counter before throwing up whatever was in my stomach into the sink.

I wait a few moment before I make sure I am good before collecting myself once more and washing up the sink and brushing my teeth again.

"Come on slut the world doesn't revolve around you now make me breakfast!" Father yells from the lower level and I groan.

"The world doesn't revolve around you either." My wolf, Lance, commented in my head, showing up again after maybe a week of not hearing from him.

"You got that right buddy." I say back, "So where have you been?"

"Oh ya know, just operating from the back." He said and I knew what he meant.

Since I am a werewolf, Lance can give some of his energy to heal me and when he used to much, he had to gain it again so he randomly goes away for weeks at a time. I've begged him to stop using his energy on my but he refused to listen to me because "if I die, he dies."

"Lance I swear to the goddess above-" I threaten but he just laughs back at me.

"Nothing you can do 'bout it." He teases.

I blocked of the connection with a scowl. He's white with black on the tip of his left ear and paws and some patches on his body. He may have changed but I haven't a clue. I haven't shifted in almost 3 years but I think he's the same.

I make my way down the steps that are out to get me. Wincing at the pain that sears through my body with every step.

I grab all the stuff I need for a simple breakfast of just oatmeal and toast.

"Faggot I have to move for my work and for some reason I have to take you with me so pack up. Fast." Father states while I was cooking his breakfast. "You probably can't even comprehend what I'm saying because you are just a dumb bitch."

"I am leaving in 3 hours if you make it in time to hours."

I nod at the words. I don't tend to talk to much either it'll just get me beat even more.

"Words faggot!" He screamed.

Well, anything I do gets me beat.

"Y-yes sir."

He punched me in the jaw causing me to burn my hand on the blazing stove. I let out a pained sound and I got hit again. When will this ever end.

I place the oatmeal and plate of toast on the counter in a bowl and make my way to the stairs.

I limped up the stairs, clutching my side and start packing everything I own in my small backpack. I don't own much just a few shirts, pants, socks, and underwear. I throw in my old beaten pair of running shoes and my phone and charger.

Yes I have a phone. Just so my father can call me to yell at me. I would use to text my friends but... I don't have any.

Never have, never will.

3 hours later

I'm in the car on my way to the sunshine state. California. Or is that Florida. I honestly don't remember and I don't really care.

Father and I are rouges. Father got kicked out of his old pack a few days after I was born and my mom died giving birth. He got kicked out because he got extremely drunk after mom's death out of grief and sadness. So one night he got so drunk, he hurt one of the pack pups, placing them in a coma.

I still don't know why they thought it was a good idea to let him keep his newborn child and his three year old after he knocked another child into a coma. I mean, common sense right? Did they think he wouldn't hurt his own children? His own flesh and blood? Well they were wrong.

Very. Very. Wrong.

I just hope that child is okay though. They didn't deserve to be hurt.

My brother came with us but I don't know where he's gone. He was 3 years older than me and ran away when I was 8.

I still remember his name.

Grayson Tate Lopez.

I remember the last thing he said to me, "I'll come back for you, Tay. Once I can find a place for us to live and survive. We'll build a better life. Together." Then he climbed out the window and gave me a final glance. Then he ran. I watched him run and run until I couldn't see him anymore. He ran towards the woods right behind our house.

The memory pains me to think about. He didn't come back. I haven't seen him since. I don't even know if he is alive. He could've found a loving family that took him in. Built that life he always talked about, without me.

Or he could've been killed. Starvation, dehydration, rouges, I shuttered. I hope he is still alive. I hope he found that loving family. I hope he isn't in as much pain as me.

I snap out of my thoughts and look at my "father." it's not fair. My newborn form did not get a say in where I went. I had to go with him since he was my 'legal guardian.' I can't wait until I'm 18 so I can be free. Free from pain. Free from misery. Free from demon I call father.

"Keep you head up buddy." Lance added. "You never know who you will meet. Who knows, maybe you'll find some special people in Cali."

"No one would ever want to associate with the lonely, suicidal kid." I scoffed but he just shook his head in my head.

'"I have a good feeling about this place. Just trust me." Lance smiled in my head. "Whatever. We'll see."

I shifted around in my seat, careful of my newly broken ribs that were trying desperately to heal even though I kept moving, trying to find a comfortable spot so I can get a bit of sleep.

Ah. Not there.

I don't know how much more of the drive we have but I hope I can sleep through most of it.

I'm just happy he didn't make me drive.

I would've hit something and then I would've been dead. Although that doesn't sound so bad.

I found a good spot and leaned my head against the window. My eyes drooped and I let myself slip away from the painful reality of my life.