5 - Reality Sucks

Loupe Fiasco, California
USA - North America
The Main Pack Lodgings

Sativa
My parents were still alive. I could see them, I could hear them. I could even faintly smell my mother's honey fragrance as my feet carried me down the stairs. We were at our old house, the one with the dog, and the old rickety garden swing.

The smell of breakfast wafted into the air, my eagerness prominent as I skip down the wooden stairs in nothing but my Hannah Montana boxers and my tank.

Everything was as I had left it.

I push open the white French doors leading into the kitchen. My father was reading the newspaper, sipping his coffee while my mother practically pranced around the kitchen. Placing numerous plates of food before my father and I - I let out a smile.

My father kisses my mother's cheek. He looked happy, and so did I. I was openly ecstatic.

"Happy birthday," my mother places a kiss on my forehead as she drops a plate of pancakes in front of me. "Now, I know it isn't much, but I promised you a party, Sativa."

"Thanks," my voice sounded crackly, hoarse almost. "I am fine with this, Mom."

"Ok," she smiles.

"A big girl you are," my father smiles as well, reaching over the table and dropping a small, whitish box into my lap.

"Thanks," I whisper.

I pull at the strings of the box, thankful as it comes undone in a matter of seconds. Inside, it is a beautiful bracelet. Its intricate details sending a smile to my face. I immediately clasped it round my wrist, leaning over the table to give my father a hug, I notice the small card that falls out of it.

I picked it up, and it read, 'Happy Fourteenth Birthday, my Sativa'.

That was my last birthday before Milly and her mother came along. It was a memory that I preferred hidden in the soils of the earth.

But, my father always told me that you can never run from the past.

He never said that I couldn't try.

-

Loupe Fiasco, California
USA - North America
The Main Pack Lodgings - Pack's Literal Library

Sativa
Sweat.

I awoke in a cold sweat as the nightmare still plays on and on again in my head.

I sit up, the covers lightly falling around me as I do.

I blink a couple of times, as I stare up at the sky through the window. It was my first night at my temporary Pack. Many times, I had contemplated the thought of running away. But, common sense had gotten the better of my actions. I rub my nose, and kicking my legs over the bed, I pad over to the light switch.

Flicking it on, I cringe as the light hits my pupils, so used to the darkness, the light is an unwelcome source. The room was simple, and I liked that. The fourposter bed was pushed open against one of the teal colored walls. Its plain white comforters oddly matching with the wooden frame of the bed. Two bedside tables stood at the left and the right of the bed. Opposite that, there was a small, humble desk. A laptop sat atop it, and a black bin underneath. To my left, a set of cabinets lined the walls, and a bookshelf next to it. I had always been a fan of books, so I almost couldn't wait to explore it, and fill it up with classics.

The bathroom was a door next the closet. Both, yet decoded and pretty, were of modest sizing. The closet had already been filled with clothes, so I helped myself to a pair of blue female boxers and a tank. My hair had been pulled in a loose ponytail and hung past mid-back. I stand in front of the mirror and examine myself.

I was tall. I stood at five-foot-seven, going on eight. I had long, strawberry blonde hair, and my eyes were the shade of a purplish green. I had always been entranced at them. I was of modest size, and thankfully, my curves had appeared shortly after my sixteenth birthday.

I swallow dryly as my thoughts come back to one man. Ivanovich. He didn't want me, he had made that clearer that I wanted it to be. But, why he didn't want me, I had no idea over.

Turning away from the mirror, I bring my right hand up to my neck. It felt scratchy; uncomfortable almost. Glancing back to the bed, I mentally decided that it would be to hard to get back to bed again. Without some water, at least. I walk over to the bedroom door and twist the knob softly, the slight creak among the silence standing out. The hallway was dark, almost impossible to see if not for the moon that casted a glow upon the floors, it would have been as good as being blind. Closing the door, I pick up a torchlight that I had found yesterday while exploring the modest room.

It was yellow; a disgusting shade. Anyway, I flickered it on, glanced at the lighter on the bed, and I twisted the knob of the door once more. I couldn't be sure why, but my heart hammered against my chest as I gulped and turned right out of my door.

Vienna, my Wolf, was against it. I knew that from the constant irritation that I received from her. However, I was not. I had always been a curious little girl, something that had always angered my mother, and engraved my father. Most of the time, I went head-first into a situation, just because I wanted to find out what the outcome was going get.

This, was one of those times.

"You heard Sven," Vienna complained again. "He said that you couldn't go anywhere without his supervision." I hadn't the effort to block her out.

"When have I ever listened to something I've been told to do?" I question her seriously.

"Just go back, Sativa." She sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"No."

I pause for a minute, then mustering all the strength that I could, I create a mental wall separating Vienna and I. I sigh and place a palm on my forehead, I could feel a headache approaching. It doesn't stop me from walking even faster. My feet cold from touching with the even colder floors.

Why I hadn't bothered to slip on my boots - even just a pair of socks - remained evidently unknown to me.

After a few seconds, I come to a stop at another lift. But, I contemplate the options. If I go in, there are most likely going to be CCTVs, capturing my every move. Alpha Ivanovich would most likely see me, and that would lead to complications that I didn't see myself in.

Stairs. There had to be stairs somewhere. I continue down the hallway, aiming the torchlight at my feet.

Thankfully, I had reached the end of the hallway. And, sure enough, there was one last double-door. I push it open, coughing at the dust, I almost gleam at the set of stairs that lead into darkness. I am not entirely sure where the stairs leads to, but I descend on them.

I hold back a flinch as the creak of the stairs reminded me just how deserted this stairway must be. I walk for what seems to be forever, mentally grateful as the stairway comes to an end. A large door glaring at me as I raise a hand to push it open. Surprisingly, with a little effort, the door groaned open, and I slip through the small space I had created, making sure to push it back closed as I slip into the dimly, lit room.

I couldn't help but be entranced at the ethnicity of the pack. Yes, they had modernized and urbanized the Pack lodgings, but they obviously held respect for the ancient things. Something my pack never did. Something that I could relate to; that I could adore.

I flickered the torchlight off, this wasn't the kitchen. It was a million times better. I let out a small sigh as my eyes scan the beautiful library. It was massive, an elegant chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting a sensual gaze on the hundreds of books that lined the countless shelves. I walk quietly, as if almost afraid to touch anything, I admire the classics from afar. From The Green Gables, to the popular Pride & Prejudice.

The shelves that littered themselves beside it held more recent virtuosos. I couldn't help the blush that came upon my face at the neat, hardback Fifty Shades of Grey that sat there. I move my eyes to the popular Fault In Our Stars, and perhaps my favorite, the Hunger Games: Catching Fire.

It was truly magnificent, I could clearly picture the days of this month flying by with all these books to keep my sane. I don't dare touch them, but it didn't matter. I could spend a full week simply staring at the splendor of so many books.

"Who are you?"

I curse violently, my hand flying to my chest as a hard voice rang out a question. I immediately turn to the direction in which it came from, startled at the young woman who clutched a copy of After 3 in her hands, her eyebrows arched at my face.

"I ask again, who the hell are you?" Her voice didn't sound as harsh, as she asked yet again; softer now.

No doubt, she was beautiful. Like the rest of this Pack. Her raven black hair fell in soft waves down her back, her engraving green eyes narrowed at me. Her face, almost porcelain. She looked like a goddess. Even dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a white shirt, she looked like a sure, runway ready model.

But, she looked so familiar.

"I don't like repeating myself," her voice came out soft, but had a threatening edge to it. "Who are you?"

"I am Sativa Carter."

"Ah," she lowered her book and her expression softened as she took in my appearance. "You are here for the entire month, yes?"

The fucking Russian accent again. "Yes," I cleared my throat, clutching the torchlight in my hands.

For a moment, the silence is too awkward - so. I break it.

"Who are you?" I ask, my eyes never wavering, a slight intimidation strategy.

She raised a brow, but answered. "Natalya Ivanovich," she looked a little smug - I didn't respond.

Alpha Ivanovich had a wife.

-

Loupe Fiasco, California
USA - North America
The Main Pack Lodgings - Pack's Testing Room

Sativa
It was bloody six in the morning. Yet, I had to be up.

Training. That's what the stupid man called it, training. God, I hated that man. I hated him for being married, for being my mate.

Groaning, I roll out of the somewhat comfortable bed.

I let out a comical yawn, stretching my hands over my head, I walk into the bathroom. I doubted there was enough time for a shower. The man had told me that if was late, he would personally make me wake an hour earlier the next training day - which, is everyday, by the way.

I pad over to the sink, bleary eyed from the lack of sleep that I had gotten, I turn the faucet and splash a handful of cold water over my face. I flinch at the jolt, walking back to my closet, I grab some Yoga pants and a neon pink sport's bra, remembering to take a plain white shirt with it. I had to thank whoever was in charge of my closet change.

I slip off my nightwear, and quickly stretch the pants of my long legs. A perfect fit.

I pad over to the cabinet drawers, taking out a pair of black socks, I slip them on with the pair of black NewBalance trainers that sat on the floor of the closet.

Stopping in front of the mirror, I sigh at my reflection. The bags under my eyes stood out against my pasty face. My normally bright eyes, dull. I tie my hair up with a black band and exit the room, shutting the door gently behind me.

I followed the crowd of people entering various lifts, all in one sportswear or another. Of course, there are the girls dressed in nothing but tight, short Spandex shorts, and equally fitting sport's bras the guys dressed in low-hanging basketball shorts, and shirtless. I stuck out like a sore thumb. I couldn't depict why, but conversations halted as I walked up to one of the lifts that were free.

Scowling, I chew down on my lip as I wrap my hands tighter around my frail body. All that could be heard was the soft whispers, insults, pity, lust, jealously and fear. Any emotion brought into words about me could be heard.

Fuck, enhanced hearing.

"What?" I snap, my eyes scanning the room coldly.

Their eyes remain on me. I feel like bashing them upside their heads. You see, this is why I hated Packs. So damn judgmental about things they didn't know, or have any idea about. Thankfully, the lift dinged again. I walked into it, but no one else followed. Rolling my eyes, I press the G1 button, guessing it was the training ground and I lean my head upon the wall of the lift. Relieved as the doors begin to shut, I cock a brow as a ding rings again, this time indicating that someone was trying to get in; I raise my head in query.

Slowly, a little girl walks into it. Her eyes shining so much that consider looking away. Her auburn curls bounced around her head, her deep blue eyes deep with curiosity as she stares me down. Ever so slowly, the doors close. It's as if I can hear them pray a silent prayer for the little girl entering a lift with a killer.

As we begin to descend, she turns to me. Her cheeks flushed, and a shy smile placed upon her lips, she smiles at me with her tiny hand held out, "I'm Amiya, it's nice to meet you." To my shock, her accent was American. It almost had a Southern twinge to its tone.

I cock a brow, I quickly change me posture as her smile wavers a bit. "Hi, I'm Sativa Carter. It's lovely to meet you too, Amiya." I smile genuinely, my lips almost crack at the unfamiliar act of smiling.

"You're eyes are gorgeous."

I smile - again, "Thanks."

I lean back on the lift, a little taken aback. The little six-year-old had the elocution of an adult. It was only possible being a daughter from a high-ranking. I suspected the Beta's child, or the Gamma's; even possibly the Alphas. Since, you know, he did have a wife.

The sound of the lift singing again brought me out of my thoughts. "Um, Amiya," I call out as she scurries off, I manage to catch her attention before she leaves.

"Yes?" That smile again.

"Do you mind showing me to the training grounds?" I ask, scratching the back of my neck in a nervous hypertension.

"Sure!" Her enthusiasm was downing. I hated it a bit.

Sadistic, I know.

But, sadistic is what I've been since my world became something impossible to handle alone.

-

© V.L Khan