Bonded to Her Triple Alphas

33Kaya’s POV.

“Here’s your food, Rag.” The man in front of me speaks in a tight voice.

It is no hindrance that he doesn’t want me to be fed. He would enjoy it as I rot away in that one position that they’ve had me in for about a day now.

I scramble on the ground as soon as the plate rattles onto the floor, licking clean the meat soup with a spoonful of rice from the rest of the plate.

I did see the man spitting into it before he handed it over to me, and he didn’t even exactly hand it over but threw it to the ground.

“She eats like a pig. I don’t get why we are asked to release her. She’s a witch. She hasn’t even suffered enough.” This man, speaking, would kill me without even blinking an eye, and I am certain he would believe that he had done the right thing just because I am a witch.

Honestly, I have stopped trying to fantasize about why they ostracize me so much when I have never hurt a person in my life before. Is it from fear?

Or is it because of fear? Do they think that I am automatically a killer, a murderer, or crueler than they are?

Well, to be frank, if I were to get my powers right now, if I could cast even the tiniest suffocating spell, I would limit the air in everyone’s throat and let them foam to death.NôvelDrama.Org owns all content.

That’s another fantasy of mine.

“We have to. The triplets have ordered.” They release the shackle from my neck, and my hands involuntarily go to my neck to check for any physical wounds when I feel a burn there.

My jaw makes me hiss from pain too, but I try not to show it, only closing my eyes from the intense itch.

From the gossip I’ve been hearing, they say the triplets have overthrown the pack called Crestwood, and if my memory serves me well, that’s the pack that Alpha Alaric rules, another sadistic monster.

The whole conflict confuses my common sense because I can’t understand why they’d grow a grudge against Alpha Alaric when he’s just trying to do the right thing, which according to them is to kill a witch.

Do the triplets have such an obsession with me that they could kill even more alphas out there?

As I stand up and leave for the room, going to check myself out, my thoughts roam around.

After I enter, I close the door behind me and look at my own reflection.

I snap my eyes shut for a moment. I’m ashamed of myself. I can’t even bring myself to cry because I’m trying to believe so hard that this is not my skin and this is not my body. I cannot be like this. I cannot become this.

This is horror. An err.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Whispering, I hit the bedframe and lose my steps, sitting on it, and my reflection in the mirror sits on a bed as well.

It’s no lie. The reflection isn’t a lie.

My hands latch up to my face, pinching the skin to bring me alive. I couldn’t have become worse. My face is burned and tanned to almost the color of caramel, and my body is full of wounds.

When I turn around, my entire skin is exposed, and my nipples out for everyone’s eyes. I’m a madwoman.

I’ve been turned to that.

Without thinking, I made a run for it, too scared to continue watching. I reach the roof in no time, remembering the path from times when Melissa and I would walk to the roof of the other mansion, so I have come to learn how these palaces are built.

The air blows my hair, weaving them onto my face, as another burden of heavy tears crashes into me. “Why are you doing this to me? What is my offense? No one-and I repeat, no one-should be forced to pass through this, or rather, have to. It’s not just unfair, but you’re cruel. You’re the worst thing ever.”

“I never should have trusted you. I never should have worshipped. I regretted believing you.”

I find myself not being able to hold it in any longer. I’m just sobbing hard and out loud. I don’t care if anyone comes here to whip me again for disturbing their peace. I’m not getting any peace either way, whether I obey their command or I don’t.

This is a torment-filled life. I don’t deserve this. I’ve never even killed anyone or hurt anything before in my life, so this is cruel.

“Why have you created me then just to make me deal with these things that call themselves living beings?”

And the craziest part of it all is that I don’t even have the power to fight against them.

“Assuming I am granted some powers as a witch and that I can hurt them as much as they’ve hurt me, would I not blame myself for being weak then? For not being able to take control. But I am given nothing. I am like a…” My face drops to the ground from the sky. The sun is still up, and it hurts, but from everything that I’ve faced, I can bear a mild burning sensation in my face.

Back inside there, where there’s no light, no sun, and no shine, it’s more anguish.

“… like a cheese kept in a cupboard. Did you expect me not to be eaten bit by bit by rats? You don’t protect me yet; you call yourself my creator. And how dare you ignore me all this time?”

I fall to the ground, unable to scream any more. My throat hurts.

Letting my tears out silently, I place my hands together, folding them tightly, and mutter, “mother, I curse the day you brought me into this cruel world. I hate you for birthing me, fully knowing how much darkness exists here. I hate you and father for making Williams face such an awful end. You never should have married, nor should you have fallen in love when you know there’s no protection here. I detest every love I ever had for you both.”

My rage is like a canopy raining above my head. I can’t just help it. I’ve had enough. Finally, I shall be free. I’ll end this myself.

Since they don’t want to kill me, I will end things myself. The same nature that made rules that witches cannot kill themselves, for we are sacred, ought not allow me to be pushed to the very edge.

I stand up, rooting my feet into the ground, and walk to the edge of the roof.

Looking down, I see the distance. There’s a carriage directly on the earth, and that should only assure a quick death for me.

Now, it’s been a few minutes since I’ve been standing, facing a boulder of hesitation. A part of me wants to go, and another doesn’t want to.

What if there’s still something I can do in this world? Maybe there’s a light at the end of this tunnel?

The other part growls, “and if there is, are you assured that you’ll see it?”

I’m confused, in-between two decisions.

The reality of me surviving at the end or becoming something tangible in this world is surreal. And let’s say I do, can I ever forget all these punishments?

Can I ever be a good witch if I gain my powers?

I would want to kill these people.

I would love to cut the triplets skin into pieces, slicing them bit by bit and watching them bleed out till there is no actual skin left but their skeletons. And then, if I could, I would revive them and make them pass through the same hell… again and again and again… everlasting. Neverending. Forevermore.

No, I should just end it.

That’s not who I am. And I should never become that.

I put a foot forward and closed my eyes. I don’t want to die. I’m scared. What if I fall and don’t die instantly? The pain?

No, I should go ahead with this.

My lips part for me to hiss in the air before I breathe them out tremblingly. I feel scared, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Just let go. Just fall. You’ll be fine soon.”

And without thinking any further, that’s what I did. I leap forward, and gravity takes its course.