1.

Bella

I stood at the door of our small, dimly lit apartment, desperation gnawing at the pit of my stomach. My heart pounded with every passing second as I watched our belongings being tossed out haphazardly. The landlady, a fiery and unyielding woman, showed no mercy. Despite my pleas, she was determined to make me pay for the overdue rent in the most heartless way.

"Please," I begged, my voice quivering with emotion. "Give me another chance. I promise I'll find a way to get the money."

But the spitfire woman paid no heed to my pleas, her stern eyes locking onto mine with an icy gaze. Belongings that held memories were now treated as trash, discarded onto the floor without remorse. I felt a lump forming in my throat, tears blurring my vision as I struggled to hold back my sobs.

"Give me just one more day," I pleaded, desperation and hope mingling in my voice. "I'll have my pay tomorrow from my part-time job. I swear it."

The woman's face twisted into a scowl, her impatience apparent. "I've given you enough time already," she retorted sharply. "Two weeks extra, in fact, considering your mother's passing. But that doesn't change the fact that you owe me money."

Her words hit me like a blow to the chest. The pain of losing my mother was still fresh, and her passing had left our lives shattered. The landlady's harshness stung, and her question about my stepfather's actions was a painful reminder of my struggles and the way I had tried to cope.

"Why can't your father pay instead of wasting his life on drinks?" she snapped, her tone dripping with disgust.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I struggled to find the words at the mention of my stepfather. No one understood the misery I was in, the difficult choices I had to make just to survive. No one knew the sacrifices I had made or the battles I faced daily.

"Please," I whispered through my tears, my voice breaking as I reached the edge of my strength. "I'll find a way. Just give me a little more time."

After what felt like an eternity of pleading, the woman finally backed down, though her tone was far from sympathetic. "Fine, I'll come back tomorrow," she said with a begrudging nod. "If you don't have the money by then, you and your selfish father will be out on the streets."

As she turned to leave, my legs gave way beneath me, and I sank to the floor, broken and defeated. The weight of our circumstances bore down on me, and I cried, feeling the world closing in around me. Tomorrow would be my last chance to save our home, and the uncertainty of the future was a heavy burden to bear.

I sat there on the floor, time slipping through my fingers like grains of sand. The weight of the situation bore down on me, and I felt utterly helpless. How had everything fallen apart so quickly? The suddenness of my mother's accident, her passing on the spot, my sister lying sick in the hospital, and a stepfather who seemed to care about nothing but his own desires and endless bottles of alcohol.

Lost in my thoughts, I barely noticed when the door burst open with a jarring force. My body jolted, and I turned my gaze to the doorway, my heart pounding against my ribs. There he stood, my stepfather, barely holding onto his own composure. His eyes swept across the chaos of our apartment, his gaze settling on the mess that had been created.

"What's all this mess?" he spat, his words laced with a venomous tone that sent shivers down my spine.

I opened my mouth to explain, to tell him about the landlady and the money we owed, but my voice caught in my throat. I felt his presence like a storm gathering, and I knew that my attempt to reason with him would be futile. His anger was unpredictable, his reactions violent.

Before I could react, his hands closed around my arms, yanking me off the floor with a force that left me breathless. Panic surged through me, and I tried to free myself from his grip, but his fingers were like a vice, unrelenting and cruel.

His voice was a harsh whisper, the stench of alcohol heavy on his breath. "How stupid can you be?" he hissed, his eyes wild with anger. "Why didn't you pay the money?"

Tears blurred my vision as I struggled to find my voice. "I'm trying," I managed to choke out, my words trembling with fear.

His grip tightened, his fingers digging into my skin. "I know you're hiding the money," he accused, his words like venom. "You don't want to pay, do you? You want to see me disgraced."

The weight of his accusation crushed me, and I felt a mixture of anger and helplessness bubbling within me. "No," I protested, my voice shaking. "That's not true."

But he paid no heed to my words, his drunken rage consuming him. His fingers felt like shackles, holding me captive in a nightmare. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I pleaded, and begged him to let me go, my voice raw. But he was in no state to listen, lost in his own fury, his grip tightening. I was trapped in a nightmare of his making, a situation that seemed to have no way out.

His gaze bore into mine, cold and unrelenting, as his words sliced through the air like a blade. "If you don't get the money and pay, I'll make sure I teach you a very good lesson," he threatened, his voice dripping with malice. The intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down my spine, and I felt a rush of fear course through me.

Before I could react, he shoved me with a force that knocked me off balance. I stumbled, my body colliding with the hard floor, a painful jolt shooting through me. My heart raced as I fought back tears, the sting of humiliation and pain echoing within me.

I broke down into tears, my sobs escaping me as I curled into myself on the floor. His callousness was a bitter reminder of the harsh reality I faced. He didn't care about anything, not the recent death of my mother, nor my sister Nina who was currently battling for her life at the hospital. She had been admitted last night after struggling to breathe. Panic and fear had gripped me as I watched her health deteriorate. It was a level of fear I had never experienced before.

Nina had always been prone to illness, but this was different. Life had never been kind to us, even when our mother was alive. We were cast out from our pack when Nina was barely two years old, left to fend for ourselves. Now, at ten, nothing had changed. Our situation remained dire, with no signs of improvement.

I wiped away my tears, my hands trembling as I tried to gather myself. Life had never been easy for me, especially not as an omega with the lowest rank and an inability to shift into a wolf like the others. I was deemed worthless and powerless, a reality that had been hammered into me from an early age.

As I lay on the floor, the weight of my circumstances pressing down on me, I wished for a way out. A way to change my sister's fate, to give her a better life than the one she had been born into. But as an omega, as someone who was seen as insignificant, my options felt limited. I clung to the hope that somehow, someday, I would find a way to protect Nina and give her the life she deserved.

I wiped away the tears that streaked down my face, using the back of my hand to clear the evidence of my breakdown. Gathering what little strength remained within me, I managed to pull myself off the cold, unforgiving floor. I had to focus on Nina. She needed me, and I couldn't afford to be consumed by my own suffering.

Pushing back my grief, I forced myself to think rationally. My sister's medical bills were mounting, and I was running out of time. My two part-time jobs felt like drops in a vast ocean of expenses. Mornings and afternoons were spent at the local restaurant, while my nights were dedicated to the bar. It was a grueling schedule, but it was the only way I could barely keep things afloat.

But no matter how hard I worked, it was never enough. The bills seemed relentless – the house rent, Nina's school fees, and the loans that seemed to pile up without end. And then there was my stepfather's incessant demand for money, money he wasted on his endless drinking. He refused to believe my pleas of financial hardship, responding with insults or worse, raising his hand against me.

With a determined sigh, I started tidying up the mess that had been created in the apartment, trying to restore some semblance of order. Then, I made my way to my own room and changed into my work uniform for the bar. The bitterness that rose in my throat was a reminder of the harsh reality I faced.

Glancing at the family portrait on the wall – the image of my mother, Nina, and me – my heart ached. They were my motivation, my reason for pushing forward despite the overwhelming odds. I had to keep going, for Nina's sake. With a heavy heart and a mind consumed by worries, I stepped out of our apartment, locking the door behind me as I set off on yet another exhausting night of work.