Chapter One: White Haired Boy

Chapter One:

The sun peeked through the tattered

old curtains, waking the teenage boy from a dreamless slumber. He brushed his right arm against his forehead, shielding his eyes from the harshness of the evil sun.

When his olive-green orbs adjusted themselves to the brightness, he wrapped his hand around the rough silk, peeling it off of his slim frame. He sat up from the hard mattress, stretching his sore muscles while staring at the plain room that surrounded him.

It wasn't that too fancy. It looked like an average room compared to others. It was a safe place that protected him from the horrors that awaited him every day. It was his own haven, and he wanted to keep it that way.

His room was located in one of the many rooms that his pack house possessed. It was located up in the attic, giving his room different textures that gave it some personality.

The only light that his room had was from the lone window that was stationed in the middle of the room. There was a twin-sized bed in the far-left corner. It came from a local thrift store and had a stain that looked like it's been there since the dawn of time. There was also a black plastic crate that was used for milk cartons up against the wall, which the boy used to hold his clothing.

The walls were painted an eggshell white, and the floors resembled the dark oak that everyone seems loves these days.

It was truly his own, and he never complained. He was lucky enough to have somewhere to go when times get tough. A place where he was feel welcomed. A place that was his.

The moment his feet touched the wooden floor, it creaked underneath him. He cursed underneath his breath as he tried to be as quiet as possible. He walked across the small room, to the crate that held the littlest of clothing he owned.

He didn't want to wake those who lived below him. He would get another punishment if he did, and that wouldn't be a lovely sight to see.

He thought it was stupid for being punished for something so little.

He didn't think he could take another beating from his peers. His healing abilities can only do so much.

Sadly, half the pack's rules are targeted against him. They want to make his life a living hell all because he was born the weakest link. He was born an Omega, which seems like the ultimate sin that could be committed

Mason garbed a pair of pants that were tattered beyond repair. They were too big on him; as a result, he had to wear a worn-out leather belt to keep them from falling. He slipped on a plain blue shirt that had holes on it over his head. The shirt engulfed his entire being, making the boy look like a homeless man that you see on the side of the street, begging for coinage.

It was one of the many hammy downs he got from his older brother. His older brother was 6'4 and had firm muscles that he flexes as a pathetic attempt to get the girls. He had broad shoulders, highlighting his features, and golden-brown hair that was all over the place. He was in line to be the next beta of the Silver Moon pack, and he carried all the right packages that will land him the job, securing the family lineage that posed many fine Betas over the years.

The boy; however, skipped the genes that could have saved him from a life of suffering. He looked to be twelve years old when in reality he was 17. He was smaller than the average male, and he hated it. It made him look weaker in the eyes of his bullies. He had no muscles to protect himself with, nor a body that could hold its own.

When he got done getting dressed, he made his way down raggedy stairs to start on his everyday routine. This routine consists of many hardships that seemed impossible for your average person. He despised it with a passion and would do anything to live a normal life for once.

It has always been a tradition to have the Omegas of the pack do the household chores; due to them only being useful for breeding. For some reason, this was their logic, which he found prosperous with no facts behind their statement.

Sadly, the boy is the only Omega in his pack; as a result, he has to do everything himself.

It is a five-man job to take care of everything in an orderly fashion, and he is only one person.

Imagine trying to cook for 400 plus people, and cleaning a mansion that was fit for a king in the days. It is a daunting task that could drive anyone mad.

It makes him wonder how he can do everything in one day. It seems nearly impossible now that he thought about it.

He never understood why they couldn't get up their ass's, and do something other than being lazy fuckers. They rely on him so much it makes him wonder if they would live without him. They probably would die without him, because they wouldn't know the first thing on how to take care of themselves.

The boy made his way into the kitchen that was state of the art.

The current Alpha wanted to show his wealth to the neighboring packs by buying useless stuff. He wanted to seem powerful, but in reality, he is not. So, he bought a kitchen that barely gets used. Their logic is so idiotic that it's nearly laughable.

The kitchen looked like it came out of a scene from Hell's kitchen. Multiple stoves went unused, and three walk-in refrigerators that were stocked full of food. Pots and pans, hanged from the ceiling, complementing the grey tiles that were freshly mopped by yours truly. The walls were painted a dark shade of red that brought out its features, making it stand out.

The boy thought the Alpha didn't have to waste money on something so trivial. He could have found a better use for it instead of flaunting it around.

The kitchen was one of the many places the boy hated the most. It was one of the main causes of his suffering. His body shudders at remembering all the punishments he had to face. They were painful memories that seemed to haunt him where ever he goes.

He had to cook three whole meals a day for over 400 people that were greedy to no end. It was a tear in his side that could never go away.

He could never cook enough; due to the savages eating twice the amount he prepared. Thus, leaving some with little to no food, and they blamed him in the end.

It was an endless cycle that seemed to repeat itself time and time again.

That my friend is the main reason why the boy gets punished by the Alpha. It's not a pretty sight to hold, because the wounds he inflicts last for weeks.

That's why the boy hated the kitchen with a passion. It always seemed to be his worst nightmare.

He prepared twice the amount of ingredients he did the following day, praying to the moon goddess it was enough. He didn't want another punishment to await him

He didn't think his body was physically prepared for another lashing this week.

It gets tiring when you get punished over and over again. He also didn't think his body could take it before it completely breaks into two.

The moment he got done preparing a meal that was fit for a king, he began to bring it into the dining room.

There were multiple tables that could seat a whole army. A white silky cloth draped each table, giving it a sense of elegance. There were flowers placed in the middle, bringing life to the plain room that barely held any personality.

The boy placed everything on the long table that was located in the front of the room. He made sure that it looked presentable before grabbing the last of it.

He didn't realize there was a whole person in front of him until it was too late. He found himself on the stone-cold floor, with sausages all over him, and a plate onto his head.

The person the boy ran into glared at him with such hatred it could kindle a flame. The man's blood began to boil at the thought of being touched by the worthless scrap of meat that was below him.

The boy winced at the sudden pain that shot throughout his body, ignoring the angry man that was boiling with rage.

The boy mentally cursed at himself. he'll have to remake all the food that was now all over the floor. How he hated that thought.

He glanced up to see what made him fall only to have rotten luck.

The person that stood towering him was the Alpha of the pack the boy served underneath; he looked like he wanted to skin the boy alive. That wasn't a pleasant thought.

The boy couldn't blame him though. His shirt was now covered in grease, and sausage bits. Anyone would have been mad if a stranger caused a wardrobe malfunction.

It was the Alpha's fault for bumping into him, but the boy would never admit that. The man wanted to find an excuse to torture the little brat that was in front of him and was worthless in his eyes.

The Alpha glanced down at the boy like he was a piece of gum on the bottom of his shoe. He took in the boy's features that resembled his dead mother's. A woman of fine features, that he had been fascinated with. Such a shame that she perished giving birth to such a lowlife. It was despicable.

The boy had hair looked like freshly fallen snow that matched his porcelain skin that looked soft to the touch. His emerald eyes were like gems that sparkled in the sunlight, giving off life that radiated beauty. He was truly perfection, but his one flaw was that he was born an Omega.

The lowest of the low.

The boy averted his gaze, submitting to the man before him.

"I-I'm sorry sir. I wasn't p-paying attention," the boy tried to apologize, but once again he had rotten luck.

The man before him looked even more pissed than he was before. This made the boy fear for his life. The Alpha bent down towards him, and wrapped his hands around the boy's colored shirt, yanking him onto his feet.

"You better be grateful that I'm in happy mode; otherwise, I would have your head for your rudeness," he whispered harshly into the boy's ear.

The boy gulped in fear as he was

suddenly slammed against the wall, definitely breaking some bones.

"You better not do that again," the Alpha commended, before leaving the boy and his broken body alone.

This is why the boy hated this specific place. It could never give him a break from the horrors that seem to follow him wherever he goes. It always finds a way to cause him trouble in the end.

Now it's going to take him ten times longer to do his chores, all because the big bad wolf wanted to use him like a rag doll.

He slowly got off of the floor, wincing from the pain that was within his arm. He made his way into the kitchen, looking for the first aid kit. He looked at the damage that was done to him, only to see that his arm was sprained and not broken. I was happy on his part.

It would only take an hour to heal at the most.

He sat down on one of the many stools and began to wrap his arm in a bandage to help it heal faster. You could feel the anger radiating off the poor boy as he mumbled to himself.

"He can go fuck himself for all I care. It wasn't even my fault, to begin with!" the boy yelled in frustration.

"Don't worry Mason. Things will take a turn for the better when you find your mate," Samuel, a voice inside Mason's head reassured him.

Mason could hear voices ever since he could remember. They were his friends in some way and helped him cope with reality.

"Sure, everything will be sunshine and rainbows, but you forget I'm an Omega! No one wants an Omega for a mate. Omega's don't get happy endings," Mason spat at the voices that were inside his head.

He wishes for a happy ending, but he knows that fate has dealt him a crappy hand.

He knows that deep down that his mate would reject him in a heartbeat; due to no one wanting an Omega to be a destined pair.

No one in their right mind would accept someone as broken as him. It is impossible for Mason to have the life he desperately dreams of.

He will never know the concept of love all because he was born an Omega.

- To be continued