The Predator's Pursuit

I couldn't believe it. After three months of hiding, he had found me. After running and scouring from hotel to hotel and watching my back like my life was in danger. He had hunted me down. In some way, my life was in danger. I had been confident that I had gotten away from his hawk-like eyes and bloodhound-like nose; his loyal men and hound dogs had been watching my every move. He was on my makeshift couch, shrouded by the moonlight shadow with his obnoxiously serene smile.

He had told me he would always find me, but I had brushed it away, thinking he was one of those Alphas who only knew his way and had never been told no.

You see, I had always known I was an omega. It wasn't a revelation or something new to me, but there was no need to advertise it as it would never do me any good. I would be mocked as none of the ton would have ever believed nor entertained my claim accurately as I didn't look or act like one. I wasn't your typical picture of the omega's perfect shape. I was not overly pretty, not slim with childbearing hips, softly spoken, or delicate and soft. The only way you could place me and an omega together was that I was short--nearly 5 ft 2.

In this world, you were either an Alpha, beta or omega. The prestigious were granted secondary characteristics, either dominant or submissive, and Damien was an Alpha and Dominant.

He was everything I had hated, despised and feared.

I had made a promise to myself after what had happened to my sister and me when we were young. One morning, My sister and I decided we had had enough of my mother's rants and Godzilla acts. We would stab church and play on the swings near the woods. You see, we liked the mysteriousness and quietness of the woods. Albeit our first time near the woodsy swings, we decided to be brave. I guess that was our undoing.

You see, my lovely sister was an omega, too. She was the perfect omega. If there was ever an embodiment of what an omega should be, that was her, and I was lagging as a fake. Bless her heart, but she was also naive and too trusting. I was the pessimistic one between us. As we arrived at the swings, we saw no one there. We both looked towards each other almost telepathically and giggled. We had come at the perfect time. We could share secrets, talk about cartoons and skimpy dresses, and play with nature without Mumzilla telling us to be proper for our future partners. We were 12; what else would we talk about, not mates?

We hadn't noticed him standing by the bushes, or should I say I hadn't seen him: Mr Salazar, the man who had scarred my life and destroyed my sister's. My sis Ruby always had insightful eyes, and she always noticed what I didn't. I noticed she had stopped talking, and her eyes were on something or someone in the distance. I had followed her sight of vision to find what she had been looking at. When I had located him, she was already halfway to him. I had tried to catch up to her. He had bent down, whispering something into her ears. She began to clap and jump up and down. She was excited. I could tell from that gesture. I had seen her do that over and over again. He had lost his puppy. He had enlisted us to assist him with finding his puppy.

You see, Rue loved being given responsibility; knowing somebody needed her was giving her a task, making her feel good--the primary omega troupe. She liked to serve and be of service. I, on the other hand, was full of suspicion. I should have followed my gut and voiced my thoughts louder, but once again, I folded; anything for her. I guess I shouldn't blame her. I was also naïve; I was just 12 like her, albeit the oldest of us by 10 minutes.

He had been a pedophile and not the shy type that just wanted to rub one out in front of children but the sick one that wanted to choke the life out of a child while spilling down their throat. His sick nature became apparent after the charade of looking for the puppy had gone stale, and he had successfully moved us from the more residential, woodsy area. He held a knife to my neck and ordered her to get on her knees.

He had threatened her with my life. I had asked him to take me instead, but he refused. You see, I was ugly to him despite us being twins and looking somewhat identical apart from my apparent weight. He wanted to stain something pretty and pristine, someone clean and pure. Not a pig. He's words, not mine. Ordering me to watch as he defiled her and sapped her away life still haunts me to this day. I had pissed myself while watching him rock his hips into her head, and the smell of his oak pheromones in the air was so thick I could hardly breathe. He had snapped her neck by just thrusting into her tiny throat. Her ocean-blue eyes were dull with no life, and her pretty hair, which mother had taken so much time to braid, was now tangled and tousled. Rue had taken so much pride in her hair.

After he had come off his high, he had noticed that she wasn't breathing. He seemed so unaffected as if this wasn't his first time. I was so scared beyond my wits. What was I going to say to my mother? Would I also end up like Rue, dead? Would he kidnap me or kill me? I could no longer hear; I was sure I was hyperventilating, or maybe I was dying too--my sweet Rue. I had told myself that I would protect her, that I would be there for her as I was her other half, and here I was, pathetically gasping for air, desperate to live feeling sorry for myself when she was no more--gone in what seemed like an instant.

Through my tears and snot, I looked up at him. It seemed like he was saying something. I tried to memorise his face if I could escape, and it seemed like he was saying something. All I could hear was my blood pumping through my ears, evidence of my life, which he hadn't taken from me yet. My mind scrambled to think of my next plan. How could I escape this monster and get what remained of my sister from him? My ears cleared, and I heard him move towards me. Still shaking with my trousers drenched in filth, he smiled at me. The same boyish smile he had given my Rue at the beginning of this nightmare as if he hadn't just made me see what killed my soul.

He was so tall and strong. With me on my knees, he looked even more prominent. He started releasing that scent again, stealing my breath from me, with my lower tummy tingling, making my knees weak, but I had to move. I wouldn't be next. The sun had blocked my sight for a moment, allowing me to lower my head. There, I saw the knife he had first put against my neck. I still remember the strength I had used to reach the knife, like springs attached to my soles. I had gotten the knife in my hands, but now what? He chuckled and told me to DROP IT in that voice. I had seen the neighbourhood alphas used on naughty omegas and mates.

Since I presented, I trained myself to become used to alpha persuasion and the alpha voice. In some sense, once again, I was defective. That had been my chance. With him thinking I would be subservient and complicit to his voice, I rushed towards him with fury and rage and stuck the knife in his midriff. He had looked at me like he couldn't believe I was capable of such, that a little girl would be the one to end her pathetic, sadistic life. He would accept it as he fell face down; he had gripped my legs, dragging me down with him.

He was instantly on me, with such anger that I had never experienced before. His large hands were around my throat, squeezing the life out of me; this must have been how Rue felt. He was screaming profanities and curses at me while my dainty tried to pry them on me fervently. I had tried my best to claw at his arms, but it seemed like this would also be my end; I had grown tired mentally and physically from this ordeal, so it might be best to let him take me, too, as I no longer had Rue with me--no longer Ruby and ROSE; Just ROSE.

In my dying haze, I had noticed one of the rocks that Mother had always told Rue and me to be careful of as that had a sharp edge; she had always told us to wear shoes so that we don't cut our feet on it. She called it quartz; she said we would lose an ocean's worth of blood if we stepped on it, an exaggeration, and we always laughed and promised we'd always wear shoes as we played in the woods. As my brain got less oxygen, I started thinking of useless stuff. I grasped it in my palm, enduring the pain as it tore through my palm. Somehow, the pain had grounded me on what to do next. I struck it to the bastard's head again and again and again and again and again until he's hands left my throat and fell weightlessly against my chest.

I had won my fight to live. He was no longer breathing. I could feel his hot blood mixed with mine all over my face and my Sunday garment. I had pushed his body away, standing and kicking his body until I felt slightly satisfied, crawling to meet cold and blue Rue. I had dragged my sister's body through the woods to the edge of the road. I had spent over an hour doing so. As it would seem, the bastard Salazar did have a puppy. He had tied it to a tree and gagged its mouth with a mouth guard. I was tempted to leave it tied to die just like its owner, as it was it's partially at fault for this disaster. But even after all that had happened, it seemed my heart wasn't dull as I still dropped my sister and freed the doggie.

The pup had been following me as I dragged her body through the woods; I had shooed the creature away, but it was persistently following me. On getting to the edge of the road, I noticed the police patrol and the county chief were outside with many people. Mother was nowhere to be found. Maybe something else had happened, and they weren't looking for us. Perhaps I could escape dragging Rue to our house while waiting for Mother. I contemplated my choices in my shame and cowardice. The dog made its presence known to me and the others. I was caught. People had rushed towards me, all their crowding, and the fact that I had been bleeding from my palm made my head feel faint. I wanted to hold on for Mother; I thought maybe my last breath would come before seeing Mother's face and apologising to her for not being a good older sister; suddenly, I saw her beautiful face marred with tears rushing towards us. The last words on my lips were Mother, please forgive me; it should have been me.