The Reject

Addy

“Rise and shine, ~reject~. You’ve got ten minutes to join us for breakfast.” My father’s voice echoes through the room as he swings the door open, letting it bang against the wall.

I blink my eyes open slowly, catching a glimpse of his retreating figure. I sit up, taking in the sight of the twin-size bed I’m sprawled on. The faded pink comforter and worn-out sheets have been my companions since my fifth birthday. That was the year my family’s affection for me took a nosedive, never to resurface.

I draw my legs up and push the covers down, my feet making contact with the cold floor, sending a shiver through my body. I’ve been confined to the smallest room in our house for so long that I’ve grown numb to it, just like the emotional abuse my parents have subjected me to ever since they found out I was their only pup.

They’ve banished me from the dinner table, family trips, and public appearances. They tell everyone that the moon goddess denied them a child, that all they got was a ~reject~. I tiptoe into the bathroom, careful not to make a sound that might disturb my parents. I open my sparse closet, my fingers brushing over the worn-out dresses.

I pick up a bright yellow one that Myra got me a few weeks ago during a shopping spree. I carefully lift it off the hanger. I tried to hide my joy when we were trying on clothes while she was updating her wardrobe.

She snatched it from me as I attempted to put it back multiple times, insisting that I couldn’t afford it. She’s aware of how my parents mistreat me, not giving me a dime to spend. She dismissed my pleas not to buy it, assuring me that it was a drop in the ocean for her father’s bank account.

We’ve been friends since sixth grade when she rescued me from a group of girls who were beating me up in a corner of the gym—my arms still bear the black and blue marks from yesterday’s attack by a group of teenagers who cornered me after lunch. A teacher eventually showed up, causing the students to scatter before he could catch them. They interrogated me for hours, trying to extract the names of my attackers, but I kept my lips sealed, knowing that things would only get worse if I snitched.

I slip into the dress and find a pair of worn-out white flats, sliding them onto my feet. I found these in the trash on my way home from school about three years ago. A family was moving to another pack, and I spotted them on top of the trash can.

I smuggled them into my room and placed them on my closet floor, tucking them into my underwear and pressing them against my stomach. My parents would have accused me of theft and forced me to return them, all the while berating me with harsh words about how they wished the moon goddess would take me away.

Their words have been falling on deaf ears since this all started when I turned five. No matter how cruelly they speak about me, my heart doesn’t register their words. They used to make me cry when I was younger, and my parents would laugh in my face as I sobbed at their cruel words about their ~reject~ daughter. I tread lightly down the stairs, making my way into the kitchen. A slice of stale bread and some overripe fruit are on the plate; I let out a silent sigh.

I’d give anything to have a family like Myra’s; her parents are kind and loving to all their pups. Each of them has a card linked to their father’s account, allowing them to buy whatever their hearts desire. I stuff the last piece of bread into my mouth and shuffle over to the sink to wash the faded orange plate, the only one I’m allowed to eat from. I turn on the water and wash the plate, placing it in the corner where it’s supposed to go after use. At home, I feel like a zombie, mechanically performing the tasks my parents have drilled into me over the years; the proper way for someone like me to behave.

The sheets on my bed and the comforter are the last things my parents bought for me. I’m surprised they haven’t worn out and developed holes given their age. I grab my backpack from the floor, which I brought down from my room, and leave the house, making sure the soft click of the latch is all they hear. Myra pulls up in her silver Land Rover, waving at me as she does every day.

My parents never took me to get my driver’s license when I turned fifteen like all the other teenagers. I’m the only senior without a car or driver’s license, but I keep trudging through life as the outcast I am.

“How does it feel to be seventeen?” she asks cheerfully as I shut the door.

I shrug a shoulder. “I don’t know. My parents didn’t wish me a happy birthday or even acknowledge my existence. Before I left, they were in his office, hoping I’d find my mate today so they could be rid of their problem.”

Her smile fades. “I can’t understand how they can treat you so poorly. They don’t deserve a kind, caring person like you.”

I let out a bitter laugh. “You know as well as I do that they don’t care about me. I wasn’t the son they desperately wanted, and my existence is nothing they take pride in. They want me to be mated off to anyone, even if it’s a lowly Omega, so they don’t have to look at me anymore.”

Her eyes reflect the sadness I hate to see. “Anyway, we’re going shopping after class today. Remember, my parents are throwing me a birthday party tomorrow afternoon, so we need to get new dresses.”

I groan. “Myra, you know I don’t have any money for that. I’ll go with you, but I won’t be buying anything. The pink dress you got me a few months ago is good enough to wear.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she drives. “You know damn well that dress isn’t suitable for my party. I’ll get you one like we always do.”

I shake my head slowly. “You don’t understand; I don’t want you to keep buying me things. Until I find my mate, there’s no way I’ll ever be able to pay you back.”

She punches my shoulder, causing me to wince because of the bruise she hit. “Sorry, oh god. I’m so sorry.”

I rub my arm slowly. “Don’t worry about it. I don’t heal as fast now since my wolf has retreated, and I don’t have a strong connection with her anymore.”

She growls. “Your parents should be banished from our pack once you find your mate. They’ve put you in this state where your wolf hasn’t shown herself in years. Hell, I’ve never even seen her.”

I chuckle at her statement. “She’s not much to look at. Not like any wolf I’ve ever seen, which might be another reason my parents have turned against me. She doesn’t look like a normal wolf.”

She clicks her tongue. “I still want to see her one day. I bet she’s beautiful.”

I shift my gaze back to the road, feeling her stir a little before going back to sleep. She doesn’t wake up much, but Myra has warned me that if I don’t let her out, it could cause problems in the future.

The last time I remember shifting was when I was fifteen and went for a run. I was upset about a dress I wanted for a party, but my parents wouldn’t buy it. She was so angry at my parents, who were yelling at me, that I left the house and went for a run. I managed to control her rage, shifting back to my human form. She scolded me for not standing up for myself, but I made her submit to me, making sure she knew I was in charge.

Once that happened, she stayed in this dormant state, not wanting to do much of anything. She would growl occasionally but never rushed to the front to protect me or try to shift. It was a struggle to make her submit with her fiery attitude, but eventually, she did.

Something has her on edge today as she’s been more active than usual, pacing before lying back down. There have been times when I’ve missed talking to her. When I tried, she would open one eye and roll it at me before closing it again. I eventually gave up on her ignoring me, and I haven’t tried to talk to her in over a year.

Today, she’s stirring, which is a bit annoying as she moves more and more the closer we get to school.