The week progressed following a similar routine. I was allowed a daily portion of food, but I no longer felt hungry, I felt nothing. I refused to eat, and when forced to do so, I'd end up throwing it up minutes later. Big groups would gather to beat me down day after day until I was unconscious.

I'd wake up where I was left, no one bothering to move me inside to the "safety" of the pack house. I'd be shivering from the cold autumn nights, unable to stand, none the less move.

My wolf hadn't spoken to me all week, whether she was upset with me, or she was just putting all her energy into healing me was anyone's guess.

They had gotten some other omegas to take over my chores for the time being so they could allow this routine to continue until Friday which was quickly approaching.

It was now Thursday morning and I'd expected nothing less than the treatment I've been receiving all week, but I laid outside, curled into a small ball, without any disturbances. I shakily inhaled the cool morning air, before slowly attempting to stand.

I made it onto my knees, my shaky arms holding me up. I found the best option was to crawl over to a nearby tree to help myself up. Eventually I was standing, clutching my aching stomach, breathing heavily, and limping with my right leg which was practically shredded by the Beta's daughter, Fiona, last night.

Once I finally made it back inside, I stumbled up the stairs and made it into the bathroom. I sat up against the sink and began to assess the damage that had been done to my body during last nights festivities

Lifting up my shirt, I grimaced at the black and blue mess that was my stomach. My arms and legs were adorned with deep scratch imprints and even deeper bite marks. I could practically feel the various broken bones as well.

From my seated position I shifted my body closer to the tub where I turned on the faucet to run myself a bath, which I hadn't had the luxury of doing the past week. Dried blood littered my skin and scars began to appear where the oldest scratches began to fade.

I sat with my head rested between my knees before I heard a knock on the door. The mere noise made me whimper and my mind was sent into a frenzy.

"Phoenix" I hear Alpha Ryan say through the door, and I involuntarily begin to quietly cry at the sound of his voice.

"Yes Alpha?" I weakly responded, my voice cracking with fear.

"Phoenix, our special guests are arriving a day early, today. I assume you remember our chat about staying quiet about your predicament?" he asks me, again making no move to open the door, which provided me with some comfort.

I nod my head and repeat "yes Alpha" with a broken voice.

"Wonderful, clean up and change into the clothes I've left in your room. Stay in there until someone comes to get you." He says, before I hear him walk away. I sigh a breath of relief, knowing the next three days will be torture free, hopefully enough time to heal sufficiently to run away from here.

I pulled myself up into a standing position and faced the mirror, I didn't recognize my reflection. Although several scars lingered on my face it was bruise free, it was no longer puffy from being hit. I was almost pretty, if it weren't for the hollow cheeks, dried lips, and dead look in the eyes.

The bath had filled up, so I turned off the faucet and slowly lowered my aching body into the warm water, which would soon be filled with dirt and blood.

Eventually I forced myself to get out of the bath and managed to stand up again wrapping a raggedy old towel around myself carefully. I peaked out the bathroom door, and when I saw the coast was clear I limped to my closet of a bedroom and shut the door behind me.

I sat down on the bed and examined the clothes left out for me, tight black jeans, which would hurt like a bitch over all my injuries, combat boots, and a baby blue hoodie. Alongside the clothes was a small bottle of concealer, I'm assuming to cover up any lingering marks on my face, and a brush to look presentable.

I got ready and then assessed my appearance in the mirror. I looked like a normal teenage girl, but I didn't feel like one. I feel empty inside, my will to live dwindling, my desire to keep breathing almost non existent at this point.

Recalling the instructions from Alpha Ryan to stay put until further notice, I collapsed onto my mattress, exhausted. I curled myself into a tight ball and attempted to ignore the pain that was pulsing throughout my body.

In addition to the countless injuries from the previous week, I was stuck with a seemingly permanent migraine. My head has been ringing since Tuesday, the only time it's tolerable is when I am blacked out.

Sometimes I just like to imagine what life would be like if my parents hadn't completely up and abandoned me as an infant, but that's simply wishful thinking.

I wonder if they would feel guilty if they knew what my life consisted of now.

I wonder if I ever even cross their minds.

My thoughts are interrupted by the door being swung open. In walks Fiona and Taylor, their faces screaming "we're pretending to be nice."

"Hey Phoenix, our guests have arrived and would like to speak to you in my Father's office" Taylor smiles at me.

Fake. The one and only time Taylor will ever be nice to me, when he is trying to impress their important guests, whoever they may be... Why did they want to speak to me?

I make my way to my feet after a few seconds, holding the wall to support myself. I then exit my "room" and start trudging down the hallway slowly.

With the little progress I've made I hear Taylor quietly growl behind me "Don't mess this up."