Graham opens the zipper of his duffel bag one last time to inspect the contents while he sits on his bed. He repeats the list he had made in his head with all the essentials he needed and sighs, his eyes show just a little bit of the sadness he feels inside.
He is about to leave the place he has called home his entire life, but he has decided that enough is enough. No more random beatings, no more pain, no more waking up with bruises all over his body. And no more waking up with a sore behind.
His father was the cause of all his suffering as the man was more drunk and wasted than that he was sober. Ever since Graham’s mother died twelve years ago, Graham was only fourteen, the man held a close relationship with a bottle of Vodka and a couple of drops of Wolfsbane.
As he is a werewolf, alcohol never really had the desired effect on him, so his father would add a couple of drops of Wolfsbane, to get the feel of being drunk. But because of that, his father would have random tantrums, getting mad for nothing, or the tiniest flaw.
Graham sighs again as he looks around his room. It never changed after his mum passed away, it still looks like the teenage boy room that she decorated for him. Even the band posters from back in the day still hung on the wall, though the colour was already fading. He never thought of moving out. Most of his friends in his pack already moved out and started a life of their own, but his father never allowed him. He had control over his bank account, so he couldn’t do anything about it, his hands were tied.
When Graham looks through his window, he sees it is slowly getting dark. His stomach growls, for the nth time that evening. His father didn’t leave any money before he left to drink in the closest pub and the fridge was empty, so he didn’t have anything to eat.
Graham clenches his fists, he hates that he is so helpless, though he can’t do anything about it. Even the Alpha has no idea what’s going on in this house, and if he told her, she wouldn’t believe him, his dad had her wrapped around his finger.
He gets up from his bed and walks over to the window. Within a few hours he’ll be gone. Within a few hours, he’ll be free, but homeless and broke. Muffled voices come from the front of the house and then the front door slams shut.
“Graham! Get your ass over here!” His father yells from the bottom of the stairs.
Graham gasps and quickly stuffs his bag under his bed. This was not meant to happen; his father wasn’t supposed to be home for hours. Usually, his father is gone for hours, he shouldn’t be home right now! Graham opens the door of his room and quickly hurries downstairs.
“What is it father?” he asks in a submissive tone, his eyes locked on his feet.
“Why is dinner not ready?” His father roars, his bloodshot eyes gaze at Graham menacingly.
“There is no food left to cook, father.” Graham answers quietly, his cheeks start to burn up in shame. “I asked you yesterday for money for groceries, you didn’t leave anything so I couldn’t get them.”
“Are you blaming me for your mistake?” His father’s voice gets quiet, but the threat is evident, the huge man stalks closer, forcing Graham to step backwards. “Isn’t it your task to make sure that there’s food on the table? Huh?”
Graham hits a wall and can’t back up any more. The man’s menacing glare makes him shive.
“I-“ Graham stutters.
His father’s face is now only inches away from his nose. “You have one job, one task! And you can’t even do that properly!” his father’s arm moves forward until he wraps his hand around Graham’s neck.
“When, just when, are you going to listen to me? When are you finally doing what I ask you to do?”
“Dad,” Graham tries to talk, having a hard time to breathe. “I can’t breathe, dad!”
His father lifts him up by his throat, the man’s muscles are massive, he has no problem lifting the light weighing Graham with his one arm and drags him to the kitchen. Graham coughs loudly, trying to gasp for air.
“You know what,” the man growls loudly, “I should just kill you, make an end to all of this, you’re worth more dead than you are alive.” He throws Graham into the corner, where Graham hits his head hard against the wall and slides down on his butt. He immediately reaches for his neck, which feels bruised, Graham doesn’t doubt that the fingerprints of his father’s hand are clearly visible
His father searches the kitchen drawers, until he finds what he was looking for. He stalks over to Graham again, lifts him up by his collar without any effort, and pushes him against the wall. “Give me one reason, just one, why I shouldn’t kill you.” The man growls, his eyes are lighting up a little, his wolf on the surface.
“Dad! I’m your son! Please!” Graham tears up, begging his father not to proceed with his intentions. Although he is used to his father’s outbursts, he is shocked that his father clearly has no boundaries anymore, no clear view on reality.
His father roars again, lifting him up by his collar again and drags him into the living room like a ragdoll. When he reaches the worn-out couch, he lifts Graham up even higher, until his feet dangle in the air. Then the man throws him on the couch on his stomach and Graham hears the clinking of the buckle his belt. “No,” he winces. “Dad, don’t please, I promise I’ll be good!”
“Too late,” the bulky man grumbles under his breath and he pulls Graham’s pants off, “too fucking late.”
Thirty minutes later, Graham is a sobbing mess, huddled up right next to the couch. If he wasn’t sure about his decision to leave before, he definitely was now. His bottom hurts, it burns like hell, but he doesn’t care anymore. He slowly gets up, pulls his pants back up and walks to his bathroom. There he washes his face avoiding looking in the mirror and dries his face with a towel.
Slowly, he walks back into his room and crouches down to pull his bag from under his bed, he winces when he does so. Everything hurts, every muscle, every nerve in his body hurts, but he tries to go on. He needs to go.
After making sure he has everything, he walks through the front door of the house. He looks around, this will be the last time that he’ll see this house from the inside. The last time, he’ll go through this hell.
He turns around, opens the door and slams it shut behind him. He takes the three steps to the pathway through the front yard and starts walking. He doesn’t look back, not once. He is starting a new life. It’ll be tough, it’ll be hard, but at least he won’t be hurt any more.