Mated to the Alpha Twins

We pulled up to the rickety old house, and I felt a twinge of excitement that echoed within the sea of melancholy I had been feeling lately. The house was by no means new or luxurious, but it was much more than I had anticipated. We moved from California, where we had a two-bedroom apartment in the worst part of town. Walking to work each day had become a constant nightmare. While I was thankful to move, I couldn't help but expect the worst.

I've lived with my mother and her husband for three years now, and to say I hate it is an understatement. I was raised by my amazing grandmother for most of my life, but unfortunately, she passed away a few years back. The only other relative able to take me in was my mother. ‘Sharon’, she insists I call her, as though I'm just some child she found on the street.

Sharon and I have a non-existent relationship, which means she pretends I don't exist and I stay out of the way. The issue lies in her husband. Rick likes to drink far too much, and when he does, he becomes a complete asshole. His presence was a constant, low-level hum of anxiety in my life. I keep my distance from Rick, especially when he’s been hitting the bottle.

We had just driven all the way to Georgia due to a job offer Sharon had gotten. Rick could hardly hold a job, so Sharon paid most of the bills. Typically, I worked part-time, using my money to buy the necessities that Sharon refused to provide for me. She considered her roof over my head to be charity enough.

The new house, for all its faults, was much bigger than I had expected. It looked pretty old, sporting chipped white paint and a crooked porch jutting out from the front. But it was a standalone house, surrounded by trees, offering a sliver of privacy our cramped apartment never could.

The only thing I was truly looking forward to regarding our cross-country move was finally having my own bedroom. My ‘bedroom’ in California consisted of me hanging a curtain to block off the unused dining room. Rick insisted he needed the second bedroom as an ‘office,’ a place where he mostly just drank and watched sports.

I climbed out of the car, the humid Georgia air clinging to my skin, a stark contrast to California's dry heat. I stretched my cramped limbs, slinging my backpack over my shoulder as I walked to the front porch. I could already hear Sharon and Rick beginning to argue, their voices a familiar, grating soundtrack to my life. I had learned to successfully tune them out, a survival mechanism honed over three long years.

The front porch creaked and groaned under my feet, protesting my weight, but I didn't mind it. Rick only ever stepped outside to make a run to the liquor store, so I knew I would have plenty of time to myself out here, a small sanctuary of my own.

Sharon opened the front door and stepped inside behind Rick. I wasted no time heading upstairs, my heart thumping with a sliver of hope.

“The smallest room, Elara. Don’t forget it,” Sharon reminded me, her voice sharp, not that I could forget. The best was never for me.

I went upstairs and looked around. The hallway was narrow, but there were three doors. I peeked into the largest room, which was clearly theirs, and felt a wave of relief wash over me. They had their own bathroom connected to their bedroom. This small architectural detail meant the world. It meant Rick would have no reason to use the hallway bathroom, no reason to linger near my door at night. He was smart, never doing anything overt while Sharon was around. But his drunken leers and ‘accidental’ brushes in the hallway were enough to keep a constant air of caution around me. When he was drunk, he was clumsy and easy to escape, but the threat was always there.

I walked into what had to be my room and looked at the paint peeling from the walls in pale yellow strips. It was small, but it had four solid walls and, most importantly, a working door. A rickety queen-sized bed sat against the far wall along with a dusty oak dresser. Once I managed to find myself a job, I could make this room a little more presentable. A can of paint, a new blanket—small things that would make it mine.

I had a small fund saved up since I was old enough to get a job. While I was a straight-A student, I needed a backup plan in case I didn't get a scholarship. Escaping this place the moment I turned eighteen was a constant, burning thought, the North Star guiding all my decisions.

I dropped my backpack on the floor and ran downstairs to grab my large suitcase from the trunk of Sharon's car. It was heavy, and I struggled under its weight, wrestling it up the stairs while Sharon and Rick’s argument escalated in the living room. Their bickering gave me cover.

Everything I truly needed fit comfortably in that suitcase. I didn't have many clothes, but I had grown used to that sad fact. I stuffed what I owned into the dusty dresser, pulling out an outfit for school tomorrow. Sharon had wasted no time enrolling me at the local public school. Anything to get me out of the house and out of Rick's thinning hair.

I stuffed my debit card in my back pocket and ran back downstairs. Sharon had her back turned to me, bickering at Rick as he fumbled with setting up the small TV.

"Where do you think you're going?" Sharon snapped, turning around to face me as I opened the front door. Her apathetic gaze sharpened with suspicion.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her. She never cared where I went before. "I'm gonna go find something for dinner," I shrugged, trying to sound casual. I had stopped eating dinners with them a long time ago. The court had made Sharon my legal guardian until I turned eighteen, so I refused to give her any of the money I worked for. Instead, I supported myself to the best of my ability.

"Get me a six-pack while you're out," Rick snapped from the couch, his beady eyes narrowed at the hazy image on the TV.

I gritted my teeth together. This man was an idiot. "I'm seventeen."

I didn’t wait for a response. I turned on my heel and walked out the front door, ignoring Rick's subsequent mumbling. The screen door slammed shut behind me.

I walked out onto the main road and sighed, the evening air thick and smelling of rain. I had no idea where I was going. My eyes flickered left and right a few times before I finally decided to go right. All I needed was a gas station or a small store. I could get myself a bag of chips and a bottle of water and call it a night.

I walked down the main road for maybe fifteen minutes, the novelty of the green, overgrown scenery already wearing off, replaced by a growing unease. I sighed with relief when a small corner store came into view, its lights a beacon in the twilight. That was one thing I'd miss about California. In Cali, you could walk in just about any direction and find civilization. Here, it felt like the woods were always waiting to swallow you up.

I walked into the poorly lit corner store and gave a small nod to the cashier, a girl not much older than myself. I grabbed a bag of chips, a couple bottles of water, and a granola bar for the morning, then walked over to the register.

"Hi, um… do you know where Westlake High School is?" I asked the girl as I swiped my debit card. She had to be in her early twenties. Her hair was jet black, but she had a stripe of green running through it.

The girl nodded as she pressed some buttons on the register. "Sure do. Just follow this road until you reach the traffic light and turn left. You won't be able to miss it," she said, her voice friendly.

"Thanks." I gave her a small smile as I took my receipt.

The girl looked up from the register, her eyes curious. "You new around here?"

"That obvious?" I chuckled. I hadn't seen much of the town, but it was clear that it wasn't large.

She nodded, a small smirk playing on her face. "Town's pretty small. Word travels. Besides, most of the people in town have houses further out in the woods." She shrugged, as if it were nothing new.

I furrowed my eyebrows. That sounded strange. "Why not just live in town?"

"I dunno. People around here seem to like their privacy," she shrugged again.

I left the corner store feeling confused and a little wary. The girl's words didn't give me much hope for school tomorrow. If this town really was that small, there was no way I'd go unnoticed. This was the middle of my junior year. Once I finished the rest of this year, I only had one more to go. One more year, and I could finally escape Sharon and Rick for good. The thought was a cold comfort as I walked back into the growing darkness.