It’s been 13 days since we brought the little girl home. It has also been 13 days since I talked to anyone. To understand why, you need to go to the root of the problem.  Jimin. Every time I passed someone in the hall since his little joke, they have been running in the opposite way. Slamming the doors in my face like it was nothing, I felt a small prick of pain rush into my heart until it got as bad as me hiding in my room. Not even Dae can come in.

It’s been 5 days since I first stayed in bed. No food but I drink my water from the sink that mum said she would remove from my bedroom when I moved in and I am glad she didn’t now. Staring into nowhere, I begin to think about life in general for me right now…

Things wrong with my life:

Family that doesn’t care what happens to me. Being bullied every time I go to school. Being an Alfa when I am human. No one trusts or believes in me. I hate me…

Things right with my life:

I belong somewhere. I have Dae. I am never lonely. I am an Alfa. Things are always interesting.

*They cancel each other out…* As I try to rethink my lists, a tiny knock taps at my door followed by a little mumble. I cautiously pushed myself up off of my bed and tiptoed to the door. Opening the door just a little to see through a thin crack, the first thing I notice is that I can’t see anyone from my height so that means it is a child so the door can open a bit further.

As I look down, I see the little girl that we brought home holding a hairbrush and a pillow while slowly dragging her little foot backwards and forwards across the floor. I let out a little chuckle at her cuteness before breaking the silence. “Do you want to sleep here tonight?” And with that, she was already curled up in my blanket with her hairbrush placed gently on her stomach. Looking at her closely, I notice a little scar that delicately sits across her neck before disappearing underneath her collar. Gently, I climb into bed and scoop her into my embrace. She let out a cute little sigh followed by a little sneeze.

“…” She spoke so quietly that I couldn’t hear it but she kept trying and every time she tried, she got louder. Until, I could eventually make out the words “Hair… Mine… Eomma… Please…” Her little eyes sparkled with anticipation and a little smile curved on her lips.

“Do you want me to brush your hair?” I smile as she lets out a little nod and totters onto my knee before collapsing on it with a little ‘Eumph’ escaping her lips. Laughter fills the room as I hear her purr from the feeling of having her hair brushed. “Do you like having your hair brushed?” I asked her quietly and to my surprise she shook her head. “Do you want me to stop?” I questioned sadly but brightened up when she shook her head again. After a while of silent brushing, I began to talk again. “Do you have a name?” Tears threaten to fall as she once again shakes her head. I try to calm my emotions down and when I do I ask her the f