The Brutal Alpha's Tender Daughter novel Chapter 3

Dr. Clairence was the only one who knew about my frequent panic attacks and the depression and anxiety that accompanied it.

My family and even some pack members were probably suspicious, but nobody had ever dared to ask me or say something to me about it. Because then they would have to admit that I needed help.

And no Mercy pack member ever needed help. Especially not the family of the Alpha.

After a few minutes, which felt more like hours, I was able to concentrate on our conversation and heard Dr. Clairence asking if I had taken my prescribted pills this morning.

She had urged me to buy those for years claiming that they were going to help me. I had fought her tooth and nail about taking drugs, but after a few years I had given in.

"I did."

And I was thankful so thankful for her continuous effort to get me to take drugs, because they did help me. My problems were still here, but it was getting easier coping with them and getting through the day.

I had always thought that it was a weakness to get help, especially in form of drugs. However, Dr. Clairence had convinced my through my therapy that prescribted drugs would only support my well-being, but were not the solution to my problems. She had made it very clear from the beginning that the drugs would only help if I kept working on my problems, meaning learning techniques and especially talking to her about everything that bothered me and trying to change it.

Through Dr. Clairence I started to realize that seeking help was no sign of weakness, it was a sign of strength.

It was strong to admit that I had not been feeling well for years.

It was strong to work on my issues, even if some days I could barely get out of bed, too overwhelmed with everything.

And it was strong to tackle my problems each day anew and if I needed help for this, even in the form of prescripted drugs, that was okay.

Because I was strong.

"What caused the attack?", Dr. Clairence wanted to know and I sighed already knowing what she would say.

Over the years I had become familiar with Dr. Clairence although I had only seen her several times as it was not easy for me to leave the territory. My parents were gone a lot, but always left me guarded seriously. The few times I had managed to sneak out, I spent with her.

Of course I could not tell her about me being a werewolf, although she would had more understanding for our culture then, so I made up a story of me being in a very strict cult, which somehow was not untrue. Therefore Dr. Clairence understood that I could not pay her a visit often, so she gave me her number and since then we had been in contact constantly.

At first I had not been certain if I was a burden, because my parents had always made me feel like one. However, she had soon let me known through her questions, our conversations and her soft, melodic voice that I was a very strong person who needed a bit of help in order to get better.

Several times Dr. Clairence had asked me why I stayed and had offered me often to help me if I ever chose to escape. I was very thankful to her, but I knew from deep within my heart, that my parents would never let me go willingly.

My heart ached but I knew that the reason why they never took me with them or why they never allowed me to step outside our territory was, because they were ashamed of me - of my weak personality. If other packs were to realize that I belonged to the Mercy pack it would tarnish their reputation and of course my parents, who where responsible for the pack and their image, did not want that.

Dr. Clairence words were such a shock, because the words from my mother from the bird accident were still ringing in my ears and I came to the realization that they could actually plan to kill me. Because let's be honest, I was a liability to them and to the pack. I started to shiver imagining my parents talking right now about how to get rid of me. They would not, would they?

I could not be sure.

"Sophia?"

"I'm still hear.", I croaked only now realizing that I was crying again.

How often would it hurt when I realized again and again that my parents did not love or care for me at all?

It hurt so bad, my heart burnt.