Alphas Possession

Chapter 2

a pinch in my neck made everything shut off. Everything went black, and I welcomed the darkness. Anything to stop the pain, I was sure, would tear me apart and leave nothing behind but fractured sharp pieces. Coming too, I was in a hospital room. Mrs. Yates hovered over me, and I tried to sit up, yet the handcuffs on my wrist prevented me from moving. “750 thousand, we need to celebrate,” Mr. Black hollered.  My head rolled to the side, and instinctively I looked for Zara before it dawned on me with ice-cold tendrils piercing my soul all over again. I hyperventilated, and Mrs. Yates clutched my face in her hands. “It’s alright, honey; the Obsidian pack didn’t win this time. Nightbane did. See?” She pointed to the screen over on the doctor’s desk. As if that would somehow make me feel better. That’s what she thought I cared about? My sister is dead, and that is what she believed I cared for? Tears streamed down my cheeks and I shook my head. “I know, honey, I’m sorry, I’m sorry about Harlow,” she whispered, wiping tears from my cheeks. She barely lived. We weren’t even eighteen yet; we still had two weeks. I bloomed bloody early while still under the facility’s care. Two more weeks, and we could’ve signed ourselves out and paid off the debt and found our own packs! Zara always intended to stay, but I knew I could talk her into leaving, yet instead, I did this to her. I killed her! Sobs wracked my body, and days slipped by. Mr. Black kept me sedated and out of it. I stared at the ceiling when I felt the jab to my ass that had my gaze pulled away from its standoff with the spider in the corner spinning its web. I glanced down to see the doctor pull my pants over my hip when the door burst open. “Don’t jab her; she isn’t Zara!” Mr. Black screamed, bursting through the doors. “What?” The doctor’s voice trembled. Mr. Black grabbed him by his shoulders and started shaking the poor man, snarling like a maniac, “Tell me you didn’t jab her already!” The confused doctor frantically looked between the raging man holding him and me. I glanced at Mr. Black, wondering if I had ever seen him so furious. He growled, and I tried to sit up, yet my wrists were bound to the bed, so my body was jerked back. The moment my back hit the mattress, his hand connected with my cheek. My head twisted to the side and collided with the wall, my teeth gnashed together, and the copper taste of blood filled my mouth when I bit my tongue. “She isn’t Zara; she is fucking Harlow. Autopsy reports just came back; there was a scar on her face,” Mr. Black snarled, walking over to the sink basin and wetting a cloth. He strode back, and I flinched away from him, but he grabbed my hair and viciously wiped my face. Once he was done and my face was make-up free,