Big girls don't cry
15. Confusion when it's on it's worst

Aleida POV

The confusion continues to gnaw and pull me when the only thing I can do is stand and look at the men in front of me. I feel bored when I wait for them to stop talking to each other and sit down in an armchair standing at the short wall a distance from the desk. But I quickly get up and stand on my head with my back against the wall; this has always been the best way for me to relax, by doing push-ups standing. The sweat flows down my body, and the feeling of how my muscles get to strain, it’s incredible. I’ve always been a big fan of training with and without weapons. Unfortunately, I never get the opportunity to use it because I shouldn’t be seen or heard. I can still remember all the late nights when I snuck out of my room in the middle of the night to be able to train and rebuild my body. The adrenaline I got every time gave me increased power to train even harder than before. I can feel the men’s eyes on me before I even raise my head to look at them, but I choose to ignore them until I finish my set; then, I get up and lean against the wall behind me. My breaths are heavy after the effort, and both the men in front of me give me looks that I can’t determine what they mean. Nobody says anything, which makes me uncomfortable. I put my arms around my chest and try to make myself look as small as possible. When I do, they shake their minds off, whatever it was.

“Hello, it’s nice to meet you, miss,” the unknown man says and stretches out his hand.

I take it in mine and shake gently. I drop the man’s hand and again put my arms around me. He looks at me intensely, and I shy away under his gaze.

“Why isn’t she talking?” he asks Henry.

“She’s submissive and doesn’t speak out of free will even though I’ve given her permission,” he answers and sighs.

“Why not?”

“She has told me that her alpha doesn’t allow it,” Henry answers, and the unknown man’s eyes narrow.

“Why?” Mr. Handsome addresses me, yet my mouth remains closed as if it’s the glue between my lips. “Please, miss, answer my question.”

“I’m not worth using my words or my voice toward those above me,” I whisper, and he looks annoyed when he looks at me as if he can’t understand how I can say something so stupid.

“I say you can talk, so do it.”

“I can’t,” I say so quietly that I’m afraid that he doesn’t hear me.

“And why can’t you?” he inquires, and his questions begin to annoy me; for some reason, I snap at him.

“Because you’re not my alpha,” I tell him, and my nostrils widen; I need to squeeze down my irritation.

“No, it’s true that I’m not your alpha. But we have a bond together,” he says and smiles softly.

“We don’t have a bond,” I say; it’s a fact.

He gives me a look as if I have driven a knife into his heart and turned it. I really hurt him when I said what I did.

“Don’t you feel it?”

“Feel what?”

“You ... you’re my mate.”

His words shake me down on the ground. I can’t have a mate; I don’t want one. It isn’t worth the pain that will come along with it. I’m used to being tormented and would never be able to imagine dragging anyone else into my shit. Least of all, my mate, who’s supposed to be my second half. After the dream I had, I decided never to have a mate again. It hurt in the dream, and it will pain me even more horror in reality. No, I have to distance myself.

“I don’t have a mate,” I say in a hard voice.

“Yes, you have me.”

“Take a chosen mate instead,” I answer, waving my hand casually.

“I don’t want an elected mate; I want you,” he says with an angry tone.

“Well, I don’t want a mate. We can’t always get what we want now, can we?” I ask and give him a sultry look; he gasps.

“Sunshine...” Henry begins trying to talk to me, to no avail because I interrupt him before he has time to say something more than my new nickname.

“No, Henry! I’m tired of alpha’s around me thinking they can do whatever they want just because I have a lower rank. I’m tired of; everyone always acting like they know the least about me and understand me when they really don’t know shit, being treated like dirt every waking moment, walking around with this pain inside me every single day without having anyone to talk to who understands. But mainly of all…” I pause my speech for effect. “I’m tired of being tired,”

I end my speech quietly and sit down in the armchair with my head in my hands. A lonely tear flows down my cheek and lands on my dress. He releases a heavy breath and chooses to ignore me at the moment. Instead, he turns to Henry and asks why my dress looks like it does.

“Yes, sunshine, why does it look like that?” Henry gives me an angry look that I ignore.

Without looking up, I gently pull up the dress and show my thighs. The blood is seeping through the bandages and is now dark red. My supposed mate looks at me, and I can see the pain in his eyes.

“What have you done, lepa?”

Lepa? What the hell is that? (beauty)

“I wanted to finish what I started.”

I give him an empty look, and he takes a couple of steps back by my nonchalance over my own life and its value. He turns to Henry, and I can see that they are again talking through the mindlink. I take this opportunity to look at my so-called “mate.” He looks like a younger version of Jason Momoa, though with shorter hair and other facial features. He seems okay... Okay, who the fuck am I trying to convince? He’s hot as hell! I can practically feel how the saliva begins to flow out of my mouth before I quickly wipe away what has come out. I get up and walk around the room quietly like a mouse, annoyed again that they talk to each other when I can’t hear what they say, but the worst thing is that they most likely talk about me. I’m used to others talking about me when I listen to them; usually, I wouldn’t care that least; it’s to expect simply. But this conversation is something I’m interested in hearing. The blood suddenly begins to flow down my legs again, and the feeling touches me. I press the wounds and feel how both my legs pulsates. The men in the room are too busy talking to notice what I’m was doing. I increase the pressure, and the blood rushes down over my legs, which creates a puddle at my feet; I smile at the thought that it finally will end. Both men sniff the air and are brought back to reality like they get a slap on the cheek. Their eyes quickly land on me, and they hurry to try to help me. I’m backing away.

“Please, let me just finish this; I don’t want to feel like this any longer,” I sob loudly and don’t care if they see me as weak anymore.

Henry hurries to the first aid cabinet on the wall while the unknown man rushes to put me on his desk. It’s hard to keep my eyes open, and I’m having trouble breathing. “Don’t leave me” is the last thing I hear before the darkness overcomes me.

The next time I wake up, I’m in a bright padded room. There’s nothing in here except a door and the bed I’m lying on. Panicking, I look around. When I discover that the door is the only way out, I hurry there and try to kick it open. It doesn’t move from the spot, but I managed to make a massive dent on the inside. I hear footsteps hurrying in my direction, and when the door opens, I jump a few steps back. In comes both Henry and the unknown man.

“Take it easy, sunshine; we don’t want you to hurt yourself any further,” Henry says.

“Where am I?” I ask, and they give each other an uncertain look.

“You are in the psych department at our pack hospital.”

“And what am I doing here?” I ask angrily and cross my arms over my chest.

“You tried to bleed out again.”

“And?”

“What and!? How can you look down on yourself to the limit that you prepare to end your life without caring at all that others care about you?” the unknown man roars at me.

“The answer is simple. I. Can’t. Take. This. Anymore,” I emphasize every word. “Moreover, there’s no one who cares about me, not anymore.”

“I care about you.”

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“I told you, you’re my mate.”

“You continue to claim that, yes.”

“Why is it so hard for you to believe that?”

“Well, let’s start with the fact that I don’t even know about your name and, moreover, don’t trust you at all,” I snort, and the thought that I don’t trust him is hurting him deeply.

“My name is Kian.”

“Is it okay if we sit down?” Henry gently asks and points to my bed; I nod, and they sit down with the door closed. “Okay, we want to help you, sunshine, but we don’t know how to do it. We don’t know anything about you. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s okay, but we were hoping you could at least tell us your name.”

I doubt it’s a good idea.

“Aleida,” I answer.

“Aleida ...” Kian smiles to himself when he tries my name, and I almost begin to purr when I hear how well my name fits in his mouth.

“Can you tell us something about yourself?” Henry asks.

“I’m guessing what you want to know most is why I hurt myself and decided to end my life, right?” I ask, and they both nod slowly, looking earnestly at me; I sigh. “It takes ten times longer to rebuild yourself than it does to crumble. I’ve worked twice as hard as everyone else, and I’ve only gotten half as far. You will realize that the moment that’s maximum danger holds minimum fear. All creatures are monsters; the difference is that I admit it. With everything inside my head, you can compare it with drowning in front of many people, but nobody helps me up. Those who are suicidal don’t want to die; we just want to close our eyes and know that everything will be all right. My depression tells me to go to bed, but my anxiety tells me there’s something under the bed; my depression tells me that another wound is no danger while my anxiety is afraid that someone will see it; my depression tells me to blow my head off while my anxiety tells me to drop the gun. I don’t want to die. I just want to avoid the pain inside me. I just want to be free.”

Tears plunging down over my cheeks; Kian walks up to me and wipes away my tears with his thumb.

“I didn’t know your fight with yourself was that bad,” he whispers.

“It’s okay; I don’t talk very much,” I answer with a weak smile playing on my lips, Henry stands next to Kian, and they both stare at me intensely.

“Why don’t you talk? And no bullshit that it’s because your alpha told you not to,” Kian says with a stern look.

“My silence isn’t a weakness; it’s my beginning for revenge,” I answer bitterly, which makes them take a step back.

“What do you mean? Whom are you going to take revenge on?”

“I will take revenge on my old pack.”

“How?”

“I’ll slit their throats with the knife they put in my back.”

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