Chapter Three

 With every step I take back, I can feel my heart starting to race, beating against my chest like a trapped animal desperately longing for its freedom. The father figure's unsettling gaze seems to penetrate my very soul, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. His eyes, a haunting shade of gray, hold a depth of darkness that sends shivers down my spine.

 I try to steady my trembling voice as I respond, “Yes, I'm Jazz. Who are you?” My words come out in a whisper, barely audible over the cacophony of screams and cries that continue to echo through the house. The air feels heavy with tension, as if the very walls are holding their breath, waiting for something ominous to unfold.

 The father figure's lips curl into a sinister smile, revealing a row of yellowed teeth that seem to belong to a predator. “I am Juan,” he replies, his voice dripping with a chilling mix of authority and malice. “Welcome to your new home, Jazz.”

 My mind races, desperately trying to make sense of the situation. How did this man know my name? And why does he seem so familiar with Alpha? Questions swirl in my head, but before I can voice them, the father figure gestures for me to enter the house.

 Reluctantly, I step over the threshold, my senses assaulted by the overwhelming stench of diapers and little kids. The screams and cries grow louder, reverberating through the walls as if they were trapped within the very foundation of the house. Each step I take feels like a weighty burden, as if the house itself is trying to hold me back, warning me of the horrors that lie within.

 With each step, I take inside the house, the father's unsettling stare becomes more intense, making me increasingly uncomfortable. His eyes never leave me, as if he is studying me, dissecting my every thought and emotion. I can't help but feel a sense of unease, as if I am being judged, weighed, and measured against some unknown criteria.

 With cautious steps, I enter the softly illuminated chamber, and as I do, the previously overwhelming chaos of the hallway begins to fade away. The cacophony of screams and cries that had filled the air now intensifies, reaching its peak as my eyes fall upon a woman cradling a precious infant in her arms. In the room, there is a mixture of joy and turmoil that fills the air, as two other children are caught up in a fierce battle of tears and wails over a toy truck.

 With exhaustion showing on her face, the woman lovingly looks at the baby nestled against her chest. Her eyes reflect a mixture of tenderness and weariness, as if she has been through countless sleepless nights and endless moments of nurturing. The baby, oblivious to the surrounding commotion, peacefully slumbers, blissfully unaware of the chaos that surrounds their tiny existence.

 Meanwhile, the two older children, their faces red and tear-streaked, continue their battle over the coveted toy truck. Their cries fill the room, blending with the symphony of sounds that echo off the walls. It is a battle of wills, a struggle for possession, as they tug and pull at the toy, each refusing to yield.

In the midst of this chaos, the father stands nearby, his presence commanding yet gentle. With a beckoning gesture, he invites me to step further into the house, his gaze now transformed into a peculiar blend of eager anticipation and contented fulfillment. The expression in his eyes, which is a combination of pride and exhaustion, conveys a profound message about the challenging and rewarding journey he has undertaken as a parent.

 When I move closer, I notice the subtle signs of a life well-lived within the room. Toys scattered across the floor, evidence of countless hours of play and imagination. Crayon marks on the walls, a testament to the creativity and exuberance of childhood. The room itself, though filled with chaos, exudes a warmth and love that is palpable.

 At this moment, I am struck by the beauty and complexity of family life. The cacophony of screams and cries, the battles over toys, the weariness etched on the faces of the parents — all of it is a testament to the profound love and sacrifice that comes with raising children. It is a reminder that amidst the chaos, there is also immense joy and fulfillment.

 “Hey kids, let's put an end to the fighting and come say hello to Jazz. She's going to be a part of our family for some time.” Juan warmly addresses his children, who immediately diverts their attention from their toys and approaches me with curiosity in their eyes.

 Juan's voice carries a subtle chill as he informs me, “Reign, the little girl in the elegant blue dress, is five years old. On the other hand, Timmy, the young boy clad in coveralls, is merely three.”

 “Denise, the woman standing over there, is accompanied by our one-year-old daughter, Violet. As she is currently breastfeeding, I kindly request that you meet them at a later time,” Juan firmly informs me.

 “Juan, it is crucial that we provide her with a room where she can comfortably settle in and begin the process of adapting to her new surroundings,” alpha emphasizes. “Having a designated space for her belongings will not only help her feel more at ease but also facilitate the transition into her new home. Can we ensure she has a room available for this purpose?”

 “Rest assured, we have made all the necessary arrangements to ensure that she has a room of her own, Juan confidently states, a hint of amusement playing on his lips. Despite the slight inconvenience of having to rearrange the younger ones, we have successfully created a dedicated space just for her.”

 With a gesture of approval from the alpha, Juan guides us through the hallway and into a cozy room next to the kitchen. Inside, there is a simple mattress laid out on the floor. As I glance at the alpha, I can't help but feel surprised he is comfortable with me sleeping in such humble conditions. However, without uttering a word, the alpha gazes at me and calmly instructs, “Feel free to settle in here. I need to have a private conversation with Juan.”

As I step into the room, the dim lighting casts a somber atmosphere, matching the heaviness in my heart. The others, who were once present, now exit one by one, leaving me alone in this desolate space. I acknowledge their presence with a slight nod, a silent recognition of our shared pain and loss.

 My eyes scan the room, searching for a sense of comfort or familiarity, but all I find is the solitary bed, standing as the sole piece of furniture in this barren room. It beckons me, its worn-out mattress and thin sheets offering a temporary respite from the harsh reality that surrounds me.

 With no designated area for my belongings, I reluctantly place them on the bed, their presence only adding to the cluttered and confined nature of the room. The lack of space becomes suffocating, as if the walls are closing in on me, trapping me in this suffocating solitude.

 Overwhelmed by a wave of emotions, I collapse onto the bed, my body sinking into the worn-out mattress. Tears stream down my face, each droplet a testament to the pain and loneliness that consumes me. In this moment of vulnerability, I am confronted with the weight of my orphaned status, a burden that feels unbearable.

 The room, once a mere physical space, now becomes a reflection of my inner turmoil. Its cramped quarters mirror the constraints I feel in my own life, the limited opportunities and possibilities that lie ahead. It is a constant reminder of the absence of family, of the void that cannot be filled.

 I lie there, tears staining the pillow beneath my head. I can't help but feel the weight of my orphaned status pressing down on me. It is as if the world has deemed me unwanted, cast me aside, and left me to navigate this vast and unforgiving world alone. The room, with its lack of warmth and comfort, amplifies this sense of abandonment, leaving me feeling adrift and isolated.

 In this moment, I am acutely aware of the harsh reality that I am an orphan, a person without the love and support that so many others take for granted. The weight of this realization settles upon my chest, making it difficult to breathe. But amidst the tears and the pain, a flicker of resilience ignites within me, a determination to rise above my circumstances and forge my own path.

 Just as I gently brushed away the tears streaming down my face and slowly sat up, a sudden knock on the door caught my attention. Without hesitation, the door swung open, revealing Denise standing there, holding little Violet on her hips. The look in her eyes spoke volumes as she uttered the words, “Supper is ready. Come and eat.” With a sense of indifference, she turned away, seemingly unconcerned about whether or not I would join them for the meal.