Another day and Arya had to battle to finds ways of living the never ending hell she lived in without slipping into totally numbness or insanity.
"Bitch!"
"There she is."
"Trash."
Arya tried not to look at the younger wolves hurling insults at her. How could she not look at the faces of the people that tormented her? It was the same everyday. She walked out of the back door to get her mop and bucket to clean the restaurant and she was hurled with cusses and blows from those who thought her unworthy of love and saw her as the scum beneath their feet. Unfortunately for Arya that was most of the pack.
Those who weren't contributing to her pain didn't give a damn. They averted their eyes and kept walking.
Arya was the equivalent to a village slave. She was beneath them all, nothing but their slave and object of abuse. Most of her days were spent at the biggest restaurant in the community. It was owned by Leslie, the pack beta. She washed clothes brought it by just about anyone. She mopped the restaurant and the house above it, she cooked for everyone who came in with no help. Arya was on her feet until she was ready to collapse, her feet had blisters and her skin pealed off her hands. Everyday of her young life was work and very little time to eat. Even when the time was found there wasn't much left for her.
"You're late today Arya." One of the young males approached her.
Here we go, Arya thought.
Arya bit her tongue and searched for her bucket.
"I'm talking to you!" The boy's rough hands collided with her shoulders and she slammed into the door.
"Answer me when I'm talking to you trash!"
"I-I I'm sorry," Arya's fragile voice came out in a whisper.
The other teenagers circled her, laughing and pointing. Arya curled herself into a ball. The boy's fist landed on her sculpt, tears burned Arya's eyes.
The laughter died and the crowd parted. The boy was pushed aside. Arya's eyes widened. Cora towered over her, a smirk plastered on her face.
"Look what we have here. Isn't it the traitors spawn." Cora laughed, the crowd followed.
Arya knew it was only the beginning and she wished desperately she was anywhere but in her own body. Cora raised her hand and struck Arya's cheek and again. Tears ran down Arya's cheek and sobs escaped her. Her biggest mistake was making a noise because that was when blows came to her fragile body. Cora laughed as she kicked Arya's legs. The others yanked her red hair while others went as far as to drench her in old bucket water.
"You're worthless Arya! Remember your parents were traitors. You don't deserve to live with the pack. They should have thrown you out when they died."
"No…" Arya whispered. "They weren't traitors." Arya lay on the cold floor, drenched and aching, but she found an ounce of strength to depend the only people that ever lived her.
"What did you say you bitch?" Cora yelled.
Arya couldn't brace herself for the shoe that slammed into her head then the other that smashed her stomach. They should have thrown her out Arya thought, it would have been better than this. Arya's body felt like it was breaking apart like a fragile puzzle thrown off the table and scattered around the floor. She shut her eyes and rolled into darkness, the laughter and yells of her attackers following her to her subconscious.
"Stop!"
Arya sucked in a breath and her eyes popped open. She blinked as she adjusted to the dark room. She looked around the very action was torment to her slim muscles. She heard someone yell. A faint far cry for her attackers to stop.
A savoir, she thought. Unfortunately for Arya there were no saviors in the Full Moon pack, at least none that would save her. She tried to raise her hand to hold the wall, but she cried out.
She gripped her right hand. It burned and throbbed. They fractured her hand. She used her good hand to brush her bangs out of her face. Her yellow hand me down dress had been torn and forever stained by the dirty water they dumped on her. An ugly scary ran down her leg and nasty purple bruises appeared on her arms.
She looked up and noticed the windows for the first time. She looked around and saw the stove, the potatoes scattered on the floor.
"The kitchen…" Arya sighed.
No one cared enough to dump her in her own closet sized bedroom. She hauled her body up, every muscle cried out as she stood. Barely able to drag her feet she managed to get to the kitchen door. She yanked on the handle, but the darn thing wouldn't budge.
"No, no. Please open." Arya whimpered.
She pulled the handle, but it was no use. She was locked in at least for the night. Arya could think of only one person who'd look her in. The same person who'd broken her hand and brought on more pain than necessary. Cora.