Chapter 2 - A Worthless Omega
NAOMI
I quickly shook my head, tears streaming down my face. "No… please, I'm not going to do anything. I'm not going to die. Just… stop saying those things about them. Please."
"I'm not going to stop," she hissed, her eyes glinting with anger. "Because they failed the day they gave birth to a cursed omega like you. They couldn't handle the shame of having you for a child—that's why they died. And you? You should have died with them."
Then she spat on me. The spit landed on my cheek, hot and slimy. I didn't even move to wipe it away.
"Why? Why do you treat me like this? Why do you treat me like I'm nothing but trash?" I choked out, my voice breaking with sobs.
Her eyes narrowed even more, and she reached out to grab a handful of my bloody hair. She yanked my head back hard, making me look right into her cold, hateful eyes. My scalp burned from the pain, but I didn't fight her. There was no point. I knew she would only hurt me worse.
"I'll tell you why," she said in a low, icy voice. "Because that's exactly what you are. Trash. A worthless, cursed omega who should never have been born. Don't you dare forget it.
Then, without warning, she let go of my hair, and I stumbled forward, landing hard on my backside against the cold floor.
A sharp groan escaped me as pain shot through my body.
My body was shaking from head to toe. The blood from where my head hit the wall was still dripping down the side of my face. It felt hot and sticky, and I wanted so badly to clean it off. But the moment I lifted my hand to try to wipe it away, she slapped it down.
"Don't you dare," she snarled. "You don't get to wipe it away. Let that blood stay there as a reminder of what you are. A lowlife omega who shouldn't even be alive right now."
I let out a quiet sob. The pain in my head was making it hard to think, but her words hurt even more. It felt like she was cutting into my heart with every word she spoke.
"No matter where you go, do not forget what you are" she said . "You're an omega. A lowlife. You're nothing."
"You are lucky I didn't kill you when you were a baby, because that's what should have happened to you. You should have been drowned at birth like the useless thing you are."
I knelt down immediately, my tears falling faster and faster. My hands were pressed together, begging her. "Please… if I've done something to upset you, please forgive me. I'm sorry. I'll do anything to make it right. Just please… forgive me."
She leaned down so close to my face that I could inhale back her breath. "The only thing you've ever done wrong is being born a cursed omega who can't do her job right. That's your only crime, Naomi. Existing. That's what you should be sorry for."
Her words were like a thousand knives. I cried harder, the tears mixing with the blood on my face. My heart felt like it was breaking into tiny pieces.
She crossed her arms and looked down at me with disgust. "I can't wait for you to turn eighteen," she said slowly, her voice dripping with hatred. "Because the day you do, I'm going to throw you out of this house. Out to the streets where you belong. You'll finally be where you were meant to be—begging for scraps and sleeping in the dirt."
My hands were still shaking. My body felt so weak. But I managed to whisper, "But… Melinda and I are almost the same age. Why don't you talk to her this way? Why don't you treat her like this?"
She let out a harsh laugh, like my question was the stupidest thing she'd ever heard. "Because Melinda has a future. She's worth something. Unlike you. You're nothing, Naomi. Just a waste of air. That's why I'll never speak to her like this."
I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Only tears. More and more tears.
She turned away, her eyes still full of hate. "In a few minutes, I'm going to send Melinda down here," she said. "And if you're not done with these dishes and start preparing dessert by the time she comes, she's going to help me ruin those useless eyes of yours for good."
She walked out of the room without another word, slamming the door shut behind her so hard the walls rattled.
The bleeding had stopped already—I had cleaned it with a cloth and tied a piece of old fabric around my head to stop it from opening up again. My head was still aching like crazy, but I was grateful that at least the blood wasn't dripping anymore.
I looked down at the floor and saw the dark red stains. My stomach twisted with fear. I knew that if my stepmother, stepfather, or even my stepsister saw the blood, they would call me a witch. They would say that I had done something evil, that my blood was a bad omen. I couldn't let that happen. I needed to clean it—fast.
But what was I going to use? I didn't have anything to wipe the blood off the ground.
I looked around the small kitchen, my eyes scanning every corner. If only I had a scrub or a rag, I could at least try to clean it and wash it afterward. But I couldn't find anything. My heart started beating faster. The longer I took, the closer I got to being in even more trouble. My head was already bruised and my face was swollen. I didn't want to think about what they would do next if they saw the blood still there.
I felt tears sting my eyes as I kept searching. I remembered that night a few days ago when they locked me in the kitchen. I had been forced to cook all night for the elders' gathering, and I had brought a cloth with me that I hadn't returned to my tiny room. Where was it?
I started pacing back and forth, my heart in my throat. Where did I keep it? I asked myself, my hands shaking.
Suddenly, I saw it. The old cloth was tucked in a corner, half hidden behind some pots. Relief flooded through me. "Thanks to the moon goddess," I whispered to myself, breathing hard.
I grabbed the cloth and quickly dipped it into some soapy water. I got down on my knees and started scrubbing the floor, wiping the blood away as best as I could. My hands were trembling, but I kept going, using more water and soap until the blood was completely gone. I didn't stop until the floor looked clean, like there had never been any blood there in the first place.
Finally, I sat back and let out a sigh of relief. My arms were sore, and my head was still throbbing, but at least the blood was gone. I washed the cloth I had used and put it away carefully.
I wiped my face with the back of my hand and turned back to the sink. The dishes still needed to be washed. I took a deep breath and got back to work.
I was washing the dishes quietly, my mind focused on the sound of the water and the clinking of plates. But when I reached for a glass cup on the other side of the sink, a sudden, sharp pain shot through my head.
"My head," I gasped, dropping the cup back onto the counter. I clutched my head with both hands, tears spilling down my face. The pain was like a fire burning through my skull.
"No, no, no," I sobbed, my voice shaking. "The pain… I can't hold it anymore."
It was worse than before—like the pain from when she banged my head was multiplied. My whole body felt weak and cold. My vision blurred with tears.
I couldn't do anything. The pain was too much, and I was too tired to fight it.
The tears wouldn't stop. No matter how hard I tried to hold them back, they just kept falling down my face. My chest felt so tight, like it was going to explode from all the pain inside me.
I thought to myself, If only I had parents. If I had parents, I wouldn't be in this kind of position. I wouldn't be treated like trash and forced to suffer like this. I wouldn't have to do things that feel impossible for me to do.
I was so tired. My heart felt like it couldn't take it anymore. Sometimes I thought maybe it would be better if I just died. Because if I was dead, no one could bang my head against the wall again. No one could slap me, or pull my hair, or call me a worthless omega. I wouldn't feel any of this pain that keeps tearing me apart every day.
I whispered to myself, Please, Moon Goddess, take me. I'm ready to go. I don't want to keep living like this anymore.