The One True Alpha

Chapter 1 ~ Demise

~ A M E L I A ~

A ray of sunlight beamed through the curtains at such a perfect angle, hitting my eyes and forcing me to awaken when all I desired was do the opposite.

I need to stop staying up so late.

Squinting one eye open while squeezing the other shut, I peered over at the clock on my side table.

Ugh, 6:17am.

Groaning, I sat up and rubbed the sleep out of my inner corners, then glared at my curtains; they sucked at blocking out the light. My sneaky suspicion was that my mum chose those curtains on purpose, so I would wake up early in the morning.

For some reason, I can’t help but stay awake at night. I feel more alive and connected with my mind and body. I can focus so much better, and I feel like I have more energy and motivation to do whatever I set my mind to.

I cracked my neck and back before taking a deep breath through my nose, stretching wide and releasing my breath loudly out of my mouth.

This time last month, I was suffering with the worst flu I had ever experienced. It may sound dramatic, but I felt like I was dying; with a high fever, weak body, overly sensitive senses and I couldn’t stomach any food. It was utter torture.

However, ever since I recovered, I’ve been better than ever! With so much energy coursing through me, making me feel like I could do just about anything! Of course, it was just the relief of finally being better. Like that moment when you can finally breathe freely through your nose again, and it feels like breathing for the first time.

After freshening myself up in the bathroom, I rummaged through my wardrobe and pulled out my grey gym leggings and matching crop top. Since it’s still a little cold outside, I’d also throw on my black seamless jacket too. The perfect attire for an early morning run.

I tied my hair up in a high ponytail and braided it. Even tied up high on my head, my hair seemed so long. Then grabbing my headphones and setting them on my neck, ready to block out the world, I made my way downstairs. Skipping off the final step of the stairs and strolling into the kitchen, where Mum was making a pot of coffee, looking half-asleep and cosily wrapped in her dressing gown.

‘Morning!’ I said, filling up a glass of water at the sink.

Mum jumped and looked at me, startled, ‘Amelia? You’re up early.’

I nodded, sipping my water, ‘Yeah, I just feel so full of energy, so I’m going for a run, I’ll see you in an hour or two!’ I placed my glass down and rushed to the door.

She called something back to me, but I missed what she said as I’d already shut the front door. Whatever she wanted to say, I’m sure it’s not that urgent, and I can discuss it with her later.

Hopping on the spot a few times, giving myself a little hype up before I began, I then tapped the button on my headphones to play my music and began my run.

The air was extra cool and crisp in the woods, especially beside the lake. I had to slow down and at least walk for a short while, so I could admire this view. It was my favourite part of the woods after all.

The sun warming my cheeks and the gentle breeze triggered soft prickles up my arms and down my back, all the way down escaping from the base of my feet.

There’s something about nature. It’s the same feeling I get at nighttime. I feel more connected with myself.

I feel at peace.

My mind had been in overdrive since my flu recovery. I’d been noticing and feeling everything around me so differently. The ripples in the lake, the dew on the grass, the smell of the morning verses the evening. It was like all my senses got an upgrade and everything was now in high definition.

~ ~ ~

‘I’m home!’ I announced as I wobbled through the door, kicking my trainers off as I removed my jacket. ‘Mum? Dad?’ A pitchy ring nipped my ears as I removed my headphones. I placed them and my jacket down on the side table by the stairs.

At that moment, my gaze was drawn to my reflection in the body-length mirror by the front door. All those extra runs and training sessions I’d been doing had really helped me tone up a lot. I was building a nice level of muscle without being overly bulky or defined. It’s impressive!

A welcoming smell of bacon and eggs caught my attention, followed by the scent of Mum’s divine blueberry and white chocolate chip pancakes, which were only ever made for three reasons: when there’s good news; bad news; or on my birthday, since they are my favourite.

‘Uh-oh, I smell pancakes!’ I called, striding into the kitchen, ‘Please tell me it’s at least good news because I am starv- Oh! Who’s that package for?’ I gazed at the medium-sized box, taking claim of one of the four chairs at the kitchen table, smiling at my parents eagerly to inform me.

My parents both looked at each other, then back at me.

The eager smile I had slowly fallen flat, ‘Oh… it’s bad news?’

Mum turned around to continue making pancakes. She hated delivering bad news, so she used cooking to help calm herself down and hoped that the food would ease the blow of the bad news.

‘Amelia,’ Dad sighed, placing his coffee down on the table, ‘you should sit down. We need to talk,’ his voice was soft and slow.

Mum placed a large plate of pancakes on the table and sat down next to Dad, clasping her hands together, and still not looking at me.

From the size of the pancake tower, she's definitely very stressed. Add her lack of eye contact and Dad talking super calm… this was likely to be some awful news.

‘Mum, Dad, you’re both freaking me out. Just say it! Did someone die?’

They looked at each other again.

Immediately, I sat opposite them, ‘Oh my god, who was it? Grandpa Mitch? I thought he was getting better!’

‘No, no, Grandpa Mitch is fine, he’s doing great in fact,’ Mum sighed and grabbed my hand, finally looking at me, ‘It’s your father.’

I locked eyes with Dad, then back to Mum, ‘He’s right there,’ I gestured with my thumb of my free hand, trying to make the situation a bit more lighthearted, but clearly failed with the lack of reactions from my parents. Dad would’ve laughed, even if the bad news was about him.

‘No, Amelia,’ Dad said. He hesitated to continue, but cleared his throat to allow the words to finally come out, ‘It’s your birth father.’

My brows perked up for a second and relaxed just as quickly. Words were not forming inside my mind to speak out, all my brain could do was become incredibly self-aware of my breathing. My chest rose and fell as my breath deepened.

I open my mouth to speak, ‘Oh…’ is all I can say.

‘Honey, I’m so sorry-'

Coming to a stand and holding my hands up away from my mum, ‘Guys, it’s OK, I get it! I already knew I was adopted, and I knew nothing about my birth parents. So why should I care, right?’

My parents never kept the adoption secret from me. Besides, their blonde hair and blue eyes, against my deep-dark brown hair and amber eyes would’ve made it blatantly obvious to myself eventually.

I could feel my breathing become heavier, my hunger was lost and was taken over by nausea. Trying to keep a brave face, to show my parents I didn't care, but they knew me too well, they probably can already tell I was lying.

‘Amelia, sweetheart,’ Mum stood, ‘you’re allowed to feel sad, or even angry at this news.’

Stepping back from my mother, which made her freeze to allow me space. A forced smile appeared on my face, ‘I’m not! I mean it sucks that the guy is dead. Don’t get me wrong about that, but he’s not my family. He didn’t raise me. He didn’t protect me from the monsters in my closet, or read me bedtime stories to help me sleep when I had those horrible nightmares. He didn’t teach me how to ride a bike, or take me to my first swimming lesson, or martial arts or archery classes.’ I took a breath, realising I could go on and on. As I paced the room, the anxiety in me began feeding my nausea, ‘He didn’t teach me to be the person I am today. It’s not like I ever expected him to turn up and tell me about where I come from or who he is.’

Mum and Dad look at each other and back at me, again.

My movement paused as I locked my sight on the package, noticing an envelope sitting on top of it, labelled “My daughter”.

So, this package was for me. From him.

'See,’ I picked up the letter, the air around me becoming thinner, ‘He didn’t even name me!’ I forced a laugh, then slammed the letter down on the package. I spoke through gritted teeth, ‘Why should I-’ Suddenly, I took a sharp breath, feeling the fury I had built up in me, so strong I felt like I might break something, but my anger and speech were full of lies. As I exhaled, the rage dissipated from me, revealing my true feelings, ‘Why… why do I care?’ I looked up to my parents as tears finally streamed down my face and I dropped to my knees.

Their arms embraced me instantly and tightly. Their warmth comforted my pain and their silence allowed me to feel it all.