My Quadruplet Bullies To Mates

What A Mess

Mika

I went upstairs to the bathroom, carefully brushed my teeth, and took a hot shower, which was overdue. I took a moment to carefully choose my outfit for the day.

I slipped into a comfortable pair of jeans and a soft, cozy sweater, feeling the warmth of the fabric against my skin. Once satisfied with my appearance, I paused at the top of the stairs, listening intently for any sounds from the kitchen below.

I wanted to ensure my father had already left, to ensure I didn't receive any more punishment as he couldn't stand the sight of me. Once I was clear, I went down to finish my cleaning chores.

I carefully loaded the leftover dishes into the sink, scrubbing each plate and utensil until they gleamed under the warm water. Once the dishes were done, I turned my attention to the kitchen floors, sweeping away crumbs and debris before swapping out the old mop water for a fresh, soapy bucket. With each swipe of the mop, the floors transformed, reflecting the effort I poured into making the space spotless.

As I finished mopping, I glanced at the clock on the wall and noticed it had crept past ten o'clock. I realized I needed to return to the pack house soon for my shift. Time was slipping away faster than I had anticipated, urging me to wrap up my chores and prepare for the busy day ahead.

Working at the pack house on weekends was always tricky because the pack members usually lounged around the house socializing, giving members opportunities to bully me. At least at school, the teachers would save me from being bullied, but no one would protect me at the pack house.

A chill breeze brushed against my skin as I exited the house, urging me to pace toward the pack house quickly. I kept my head down, walking as soon as possible to distract myself from the bustling energy around me.

The laughter and chatter of my fellow pack members echoed in my ears, but I had no desire to engage; I simply wanted to avoid any unwanted attention.

With each hurried step, my heart raced a bit faster. Memories of previous pranks played on me lingered in my mind, and I could almost feel the weight of their potential mischief hanging in the air.

The last thing I needed was to become the target of another one of their jokes, significantly if it escalated into something more serious. I pushed myself to keep walking even faster, determined to reach my destination before anyone had the chance to pull anything on me.

The sun was entirely high, lighting the sky so everyone could spot me from the sun's rays. I hoped to slip into the pack house unnoticed, away from the watchful eyes of those who thrived on chaos.

As I stepped into the pack house, a familiar wave of frustration washed over me. The dining hall was messy, with dirty dishes piled high and strewn across the long wooden table, remnants of forgotten meals.

My heart sank as I surveyed the chaos; it was meant to be the maid's responsibility to clear away the dishes and bring them to the kitchen. Yet, as always, they had abandoned their duties, leaving me to shoulder the burden of their carelessness alongside my responsibilities.

I felt a profound exhaustion settle into my bones, a weariness beyond physical fatigue. It was a heavy weariness born of constant neglect, and each passing day reinforced my feelings of alienation, especially from my pack and even from my father. The thought of being treated like an outsider in a place that should feel like home stung deeply.

Soon, my graduation day would arrive, marking both an end and a beginning. In just a few weeks, I would turn 18 and finally gain the freedom to leave this place that had become a prison of sorts.

The thought of stepping into the world filled me with a bittersweet longing. I would rather wander as a rogue, living freely in the wild, than continue to endure this torment.

When the day finally comes for me to leave, I cling to the hope that I will find my mate—someone who will see me for who I truly am and love me unconditionally. I dream of a life filled with warmth and acceptance, a stark contrast to the cold reality I’ve known here.

I began by collecting all the dirty dishes from the dining tables, stacking them carefully to avoid clattering. Once I had gathered everything, I made my way to the kitchen, the familiar clink of plates and cutlery echoing in my ears.

After depositing the dishes in the sink, I returned to the dining hall, taking a moment to survey the aftermath of the meal. The once-polished tables were now marred by crumbs and spills, and the floor was a patchwork of debris. A list of tasks awaited me, outlining everything that needed to be tackled.

With purpose, I headed to the storage closet, where I rummaged through the shelves to find my cleaning supplies. I grabbed a clean, damp cloth and a bucket of soapy water before making my way back to the dining area.

I started with the dining tables, methodically wiping down the surfaces to remove the sticky remnants of this morning's breakfast. The cloth glided over the wood, transforming the tables from messy to pristine.

As I continued, my eyes caught sight of some food particles clinging stubbornly to the wall—quite a sight. Armed with my cloth, I scrubbed at the wall until it sparkled, knowing every detail mattered in creating a welcoming space.

I was utterly spent, my body drenched in sweat as I scrubbed the last remnants of dust from the corners of the dining hall. The thick and stifling air made each movement feel more laborious than the last.

Finally, I took a much-needed break, leaning against the wall to catch my breath. My heart raced, and I closed my eyes momentarily, savoring the brief stillness.

Lost in my thoughts, I missed the sound of footsteps entering the room. It wasn’t until a chill swept through the space that I opened my eyes. Standing there, framed in the arched doorway, was Malcolm.

His piercing eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that made me instantly self-conscious. I straightened up, hastily brushing off crumbs from my clothes. “Good morning, Alpha,” I quickly blurted out, my voice a mix of respect and apprehension.

"It's not necessary to be so formal, Mika," he said, his tone relaxed. "How are you holding up after your conversation with my father and Mark this morning?" There was a flicker of genuine concern in his eyes, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Malcolm's inquiry might be a setup.

I took a deep breath, trying to push aside my doubts. "I'm doing fine, just a bit embarrassed, to be honest. I know I brought this on myself by falling asleep during my shift," I admitted, a hint of remorse edging into my voice.

Malcolm fell silent after I finished speaking, his gaze drifting around the dining hall. He took in the remnants of our breakfast—crumbs scattered across the floor and the lingering scent of toast in the air. His expression shifted from mild interest to a more contemplative demeanor as he surveyed the scene.

He stepped further into the dimly lit hall; his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that made my heart race wildly. Malcolm loomed just inches away, the warmth from him mingling with the rich scent of his woody cologne—an aroma that filled the space between us. Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers brushing against my bottom lip with an unexpected tenderness.

"What happened to your lip? Who hurt you?" Malcolm’s voice was laced with a protective anger that sent shivers down my spine. Instinctively, I brought my hand up to cover the jagged cut on my lip, feeling the warmth of it beneath my fingers.

"It’s nothing, sir; I was careless at home," I managed to reply, my voice barely above a whisper, wishing I could hide the truth as quickly as the wound.

After a moment of silence just staring at me, he broke the quiet with a resolute tone. "I leave you to your work then," he said before turning away. With that, he walked towards the door, leaving me surrounded by the clutter of our meal and the echo of his footsteps fading in the distance. I was left alone with my thoughts, the atmosphere heavy with unfinished business.

Finally, I shifted my focus to the floor, strewn with crumbs and scraps. Picking up my broom, I swept vigorously, gathering the debris into a neat pile. With one last flick of my wrist, I disposed of the collected mess, satisfied that I had completed my cleaning tasks and restored order to the dining hall until the next meal.

I swiftly completed the cleaning of the dining hall and kitchen, finishing well ahead of schedule before lunch. The scent of freshly cleaned surfaces mingled with the aromas from the kitchen as the cooks entered, ready to prepare the midday meal. Their presence marked the end of my cleaning tasks, so I gathered my supplies and went to the upper floors to collect the laundry.

Starting with the Alpha floor, I navigated the hallways, gathering up the scattered clothes and linens that had accumulated. Each item told a small story of daily life within the pack, from workout gear to cozy pajamas. Once I had collected everything, I returned to the laundry room, the basket heavy in my arms.

Next, I headed to the Beta floor, repeating the process with the same attentive thoroughness. Walking through the familiar corridors, I noted the slight differences in each living space, all vibrant with personal touches. Again, I filled my basket until it was brimming with clothing, and I made the trek back to the laundry room.

Finally, I ascended to the Gemma floor, following my routine again. The absence of guests in the pack meant I could take my time with this task, knowing that the guest floor would remain untouched.

With each trip to the laundry room, I took a moment to appreciate the quietness of the halls before returning for yet another load, content in the rhythm of my chores.

Once I finished the Alpha and Beta laundry, it was just the Gemma left to do, and I had the clothes in the wash cycle while I brought Alpha's and Beta's clothes back to their floors.

After finishing the laundry and neatly, putting everything away in, its, designated spot, I finally allowed myself a moment to pause and eat. I had skipped dinner the night before and hadn’t had breakfast this morning, so my stomach was growling with hunger.

Since it was well past lunchtime, I made my way to the kitchen to rummage through the fridge for any leftover food, though I was,n't expecting much. To my pleasant surprise, I discovered a solitary chicken salad sandwich tucked away on a shelf.

Grabbing it, I decided to retreat back to the laundry room, preferring to eat in solitude rather than in the bustling kitchen. As I sat down, the faint smell of herbs and chicken wafted through the air, a small comfort amidst the chores.

Once I was finished eating I completely the rest of the laundry putting them away and next it was time to clean up after lunch. To my surprise when I arrived at the dining hall it was clean.

It was nothing for me to clean in the dining hall so I went straight to the kitchen which I was able to clean pretty quickly. The rest of the day went by like a blur and when it was time to finish my chores for the day which was cleaning everything after dinner. Once again to my surprise the dining hall was clean. Who had done this but regardless I prayed to the Moon Goddess thanking her.