"we all bend, and eventually, when we can't take it anymore, we break."

Alpha Xavier's POV

I didn't know what had taken over me, when those words came out of my mouth. I had no control whatsoever over my body, over what the heck I was doing. My body moved to it's own consensus, spontaneously and in perfect unison. The only thing that was wrong? The fact that I had no form of constraint when it came to the teratoid perception of mine. 

I could still see the visible sadness in her eyes, the way they bluntly stayed dull, even when she laughed. I guess, it's easy to smile when there's something worth smiling over. But judging by those bruises and scars all over her skin, she probably hasn't had the best life. The vociferant brute reigning in my self-control left me with riddance of my own sense of right and wrong. 

I never felt this curious towards someone before; a weird feeling I had never encountered. Though my heart threatened to break apart at the sutures when I saw the anguish and distress strewn across her face, I shoved the feeling away, trying my absolute best to mend the open wound of my still beating heart. 

In the back of my thoughts, I always contemplated on how it would feel to be happy, to be completely void of discordance, how it would feel like to finally be in complete solitude. However, there was a major plight in that thought. I never believed in happiness; it makes you weak. It weakens your heart, a soft spot for your enemies to exploit and manoeuvre. It would all be in their hands, and I just couldn't take the precariousness, the riskiness of how everything would turn out. 

It was an uncanny, eccentric feeling, when I saw those scars inflicted on her skin; whether it was done by herself or by others. I felt a sense of an unidentifiable emotion washing over me, an indication that I should have protected her from the dangers outside. It was like I felt overprotective over her, and felt a feral, vicious feeling to rip out the throats of anyone that laid a hand on her. 

Ironic isn't it? Because I'm basically a hypocrite then. I've hurt her before, and after every word I've said to her, I would feel guilty. But I did it anyways. I prolonged the damage to her, even when I knew that I would hurt myself in the process. Misfortune and wretchedness of destiny brought us together miraculously, but I knew that I couldn't feel any feelings of compassion or predilection. She was meant to be my betrothed, but it would be more of a blight than anything else. 

But it's too late isn't it? When you've done something wrong, it's not like you can turn back time and correct the mistakes made. We have to live with it for the rest of our life, and of course, I felt a tinge of guilt, whenever she flinched away from me. It was what had to be done. It was what I thought had to be done. 

The doctor had pulled me aside to say, "Alpha, her condition is rather...serious. Physically, she is...stable, so to say, but I fear for her mental health. Her whole body is covered by scars. Her back, her arms, legs, her stomach, all remains of whatever harm that has been done. Without any recovery for her mental health, she won't have long left to live."

Those words were like a serrated knife cutting through my stomach, and my heart dropped, and lurched forward. Tautness suspended discernibly in the atmosphere as the doctor stared intently at me, as if he expected me to do something. Letting the visor conceal my true expression, I stonily scowled at him, as he hurried away, the constant sound of his footsteps declining once he disappeared from my line of sight. 

Exhaling a sigh of ease, I let my shoulders relax, leaning my forehead against the brisk, solid surface of the wall, closing my eyes. I knew I shouldn't care, because she'll make me weak, but the bond still existed. Inhaling and exhaling again and again, trying to calm down, I put my weight on the wall, my knees feeling incapacitated, as if they were going to buckle any second from now. 

Sure, I may have rejected her, but it was only temporary. She hadn't accepted the rejection, though a small part at the back of my brain didn't want her to. A minuscule part of my brain wanted to give her a chance, to give us a chance. Hope unfolded from the frozen flower, blossoming and filling my heart with waves of optimism. 

Our bond is already severed, just hanging by a thread, barely clasping onto it's frilly ends. How do I know that? Judging by the way she moves away from my very touch, it's easy to say that  she's scared of me. Frightened, actually. A part of me hated the fact that she's afraid of her own mate. I can see the fear in her eyes, her will to submit to any form of authority, because of her past. Maybe because of me too.

The girl, or well, as much as I hate to admit it, my mate, was so intriguing, yet I still don't know her name. Where I could treat my mate right, where I wasn't a monster that could burst out within seconds unknowingly. Regardless of how much I craved for her entrancing touch, I could never achieve what wasn't mine in the first place. What stood in the middle of us? That vapid, cretinous hellion carved from the finest of demons, from the dark, sparking embers of a flame of  anger. 

But I couldn't change a thing. This is who I am, an Alpha that had no soul, and a jet black heart that had no care for anyone or anything. The impenetrable, unyielding walls of the demons I had gradually built over years of anger and abuse knocked everyone else away from me. Even my own significant other, whom was afraid of me. 

I had stopped at the lake like I always did, to watch the sunrise every day, the glorifying myriad of colours encircling the glowing ball of heat as it lowered itself to the ground, taking the light of day along with it. The silhouette of a girl caught my eye, especially when I realised it was her. When I had seen her standing at the edge of the cliff, I feared the worst of what could happen at that moment.

I felt relieved when she sat down instead, letting her legs dangle off the edge. Her scent filled my nose, and it simply smelled heavenly, her long hair flowing back from the breeze. Her features, for once, actually looked relaxed, instead of tense all the time. I admired how her amber eyes shined with awe and her perfectly sculpted features. Although we would never work out, she was still the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my life.

She had a petite body, lined with perfect curves. Her aura shone with utmost radiance, as if she were an angel. The features on her face were made to enthral, taking my breath away. Even when she sobbed, even with the pain in her eyes, her luminosity shone through everything else. The only thing marring her faultless appearance were the white, trailing scars incised into her skin. 

The outline of her bones were clearly visible, clarifying that she had rarely eaten back in her old pack. The scars intertwined in light, swirly patterns that adorned her skin, making them look papery thin as they ran down the length of her arm and disappeared under her sleeve. Their intricate, detailed designs were abnormally beautiful in their own way. 

I observed her actions carefully as we went back to the hospital, so that she could eat. Glancing back at her as I weaved through the bustling crowd, I saw that she had her head hung low, her hair covering her face as if it could hide her. Propelling away the urge to tuck the random strand of hair in front of her eyes, I looked away.

Knowing that she probably didn't like the attention, I took her to the kitchen at the back of the dining hall where no one ever went, since most of them highly preferred the public dining hall. My pack wasn't exactly conserved, and most of them liked to go in different groups, which were a mix of different werewolves with alternate personalities. It wasn't grouped according to stereotypes, just depending on who they preferred being with, really. Loud chatter from their conversations floated away, dissipating into the silence. 

As I set the average sized plate of food in front of her, she looked at the food reluctantly, as if she didn't want to eat at all. Curiously, I ate my food normally, and was almost done within minutes. She was still sitting there looking at the food, as a disgusted expression crossed her face. The only sounds that filled the kitchen were the sounds of the metal cutlery that hit the plates. She slowly cut up the food into tiny, tiny pieces and stuck some of them in her mouth, as a sour look crossed her face.

After taking about a half of the plate, maybe, she stopped eating and clutched her stomach as if she was in pain. She looked pale, the colours from her skin draining out, until all that was left, was her pallid expression. Worry for her sudden state was concerning, as she doubled over in agony. When she dashed to the toilet as if she was running away from something, I followed behind, unsure of what to do next.

I watched as she retched the food she had eaten, and the bile that fell out. She sunk at the corner of the bathroom, sobbing in pain. My heartstrings tugged and pulled on each other a I went to her side, helping her, surprisingly not feeling disgusted at all. Right then and there, something came over me, and I held her hair back, stroking it gently, as she was shaking, her whole body was shaking in what seemed like fear.

Random spots of blood dotted the vomit in the toilet, but I didn't worry about it too much, only focusing on what was happening in this very moment. I supported her, holding her waist, as I hugged her from behind, waiting patiently as she brushed her teeth. Silently, I scolded myself for paying too much attention on the sparks electrifying the atmosphere. 

She looked up at me, her big doe eyes shining with gratitude, but before she could say anything, she coughed violently. More coughs followed after, her body wracked with angst and torment, leaving me even more perturbed and agitated. Her hand covered her mouth, and when she pulled it away, I saw something that threw me into an abrupt wave of panic. 

In her hand, there was the thick, red-tinged liquid that I hated the most. Blood. The red liquid dripped down her hand, and I caught her, before she fell.

I was panicking. Ignoring the sparks and my wolf shouting frantically in my head, I picked her up bridal style, racing out of the bathroom as fast as my legs would bring me.

Someone, get the doctor now!

Someone replied, 'B-but A-A-Alpha...'

I. DON'T. CARE. Get me a doctor, I'm approaching the third entrance. Get me an emergency room ready. NOW!

I cursed quietly under my breath as she started wheezing, as if she couldn't breathe. What the heck is happening? The doctor and a few nurses had appeared with a stretcher, and I placed her down on it carefully, as to not injure her any further. The doctor started muttering something about a seizure, and the bandage on her left arm flapped open to reveal what was underneath.

Cuts. Bleeding cuts that hadn't been taken well care of. By the looks of it, it looks infected, with a trail of blood dripping down her arm. I watched as the blood seemed to drip at slow motion, colouring the once pure white floor. Her whole arm was covered in thick, red liquid. That was the last time I saw her. For now, anyways, as the nurses ushered me out, though I obeyed.

I couldn't get the haunting image out of my mind. The blood dripping down slowly, as if to rub it in my face that I caused it. 

I'm the cause of her pain. 

**********

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