Three Mates, One Omega

Chapter 1 – The Anniversary

LENA>>>

Sweat burned my eyes as I scrubbed another filthy plate. My arms were dead. Fingers wrinkled and bleeding. The pile in front of me felt endless.

I hadn't slept. I hadn't bathed. I hadn't even brushed my teeth.

Last night, I was cooking. Then cleaning. Just when I tried to catch a second of sleep, Lyra stormed in, yanked off my blanket, and hissed,

"Get up. You think you deserve rest?"

Now here I was-still working.

It was my adopted parents' anniversary. Not like I was invited. I wasn't even allowed near the guests. Just stuck in the back, scrubbing dishes.

A loud clatter yanked me back to reality. More dishes. More mess.

"Wash these too," snapped one of the caterers. She didn't wait for a reply-just dumped them and walked off.

Two younger women followed, dumping even more greasy plates beside me.

"Why are you so slow?" the woman barked. "You haven't even started the real work."

I nodded. No excuse. No strength.

She turned to leave, then stopped. "Finish in fifteen minutes. After that, you'll be serving the guests."

I froze.

"Fifteen?" I whispered. "I still have dessert to prepare. There are over three hundred plates-"

She spun around, eyes full of fire. "You think I care?"

I lowered my gaze. "I'm just asking if someone else could help-so nothing gets delayed."

She stepped forward. "You're not here to ask. You're here to shut up and work-for free, like always. Understand?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Finish in fifteen minutes. No excuses." She slammed the door so hard it shook the walls.

I stood there, heartbeat racing. Then I got back to work.

Faster.

The hot water burned. My fingers throbbed. My back screamed. But I kept going. I had no choice.

Then-

BANG.

The door flew open.

My stomach dropped. It was her. My adopted mother.

"Why aren't you done?" she snarled.

"I-I tried. There's too much. I'm sorry-"

She didn't let me finish. She grabbed my head and slammed it into the wall.

White-hot pain exploded in my skull.

Everything blurred. My knees gave out. I clung to the table with blood running down my face.

I reached up. My hand came back red.

She just stood there, breathing heavy, like she wanted to hit me again.

"Stupid girl," she spat. "This is why your real parents died. They knew you'd be a failure. That's why they left you."

My chest caved in wondering what brought my parents into what is happening.

"Please... don't say that," I whispered through the tears.

She leaned closer, eyes full of hate. "What will you do if I say it again? Huh? You want to go join them in the grave?"

"Maybe that's where you belong."

"No... please," I cried, shaking my head. "I'm not going to die. Just stop saying those things about them."

My adopted mother's eyes burned with rage.

"I'll never stop. Your parents killed themselves the moment they saw you-a cursed omega. They died because they couldn't live with the shame. And you? You should've died with them."

Then she spat on my face.

I didn't even flinch.

"Why?" I choked. "Why do you treat me like trash?"

She grabbed a fistful of my bloody hair and yanked my head back so hard I thought my scalp would rip off.

"You really want to know?" she hissed. "Because that's what you are. Trash. A cursed, worthless omega that never should've been born."

Then she shoved me away. I hit the floor hard. My back screamed in pain.

I tried to wipe the blood from my face, but she slapped my hand down.

"Let it stay," she snapped. "Let the blood remind you of who you are. A mistake. A burden."

I stayed on the floor, body shaking. My vision blurred.

"You're lucky I didn't drown you when you were a baby," she said, standing over me. "That's what should've happened. I should've ended it then."

I pressed my palms together and begged.

"I'm sorry. If I did anything wrong, please... please forgive me."

She leaned close. Her breath hit my face.

"You exist. That's your only crime. And that's unforgivable."

I broke down. My blood, my tears-they mixed on the floor like I didn't even belong to myself anymore.

She folded her arms, face full of disgust.

"I'm counting the days till you turn eighteen," she said. "Because the moment you do, you're out. I'll throw you into the streets like the trash you are. You'll beg. You'll starve. You'll finally live like you deserve."

"But..." I whispered. "Melinda and I are the same age. Why don't you treat her like this?"

She laughed. Cold and cruel.

"Because she has worth. She has a future. You? You're nothing but a waste of space. Just air."

I couldn't speak. Just sob.

She turned to leave.

"Melinda's coming down soon," she said. "If you're not done by then, she'll help me ruin those useless eyes of yours."

The door shut behind her.

I sat there, shaking, blood dried on my face, my head pounding. I'd wrapped it in an old cloth, but it still hurt like hell.

Then I saw the blood on the floor.

Panic.

If they saw it, they'd call me cursed. A witch. Evil.

I had to clean it. Fast.

But there was nothing-no rag, no scrub. I searched the kitchen, my hands trembling.

Then I remembered.

That night they locked me in to cook for the elders-I'd brought a cloth. Did I leave it?

I looked around, heart racing.

There. In the corner, behind the pots.

"Thank the moon goddess," I whispered, snatching it up.

I dropped to my knees, soaked the cloth in soapy water, and scrubbed. Hard. Fast. Scrubbing like my life depended on it.

When the last of the blood vanished, I exhaled. My arms were dead, my head was still throbbing, but at least the floor was clean. I rinsed the cloth, hid it, and turned back to the sink.

The dishes were still waiting.

I kept washing, hands moving on autopilot. But then-

Sharp pain. Like fire slicing through my skull.

I gasped, clutching my head.

"My head-ahh..."

The glass cup slipped from my hand. I held my skull with both hands, trying not to scream.

Tears poured. The pain was worse than before. Like someone was drilling into my brain.

"No, no," I sobbed. "I can't... I can't take it."

My knees buckled. I could barely breathe. The world was spinning.

I dropped to the floor again, curling into myself.

Maybe death isn't so bad.

At least then, no one would hurt me anymore.

No one would slap me, scream at me, call me a cursed omega. No one would hate me for just existing.

"Please... Moon Goddess... take me. I'm ready."