Back and Stronger: Alpha's Daughter

When Sophia returned to the apartment, shopping bags in hand, she lay her ear against the door. She was listening to hear if anyone had been there. When no sound made its way through the door, she used the key and then pushed it open. She scanned the room for anything that was different from when she had left. Nothing looked out of place. She stepped inside and shut the door behind her, bolting all the locks in place. She went from room to room, checking windows, and checked the panic room as she left it. Nothing. Nobody had been there. She breathed a sigh of relief. Now she could continue with her plan.

She used the computer she used for school and looked up hair styles. She didn’t want to go short-short. She had reveled in her healthy locks since she’d been with them. When she finally found a shoulder length inverted bob that she thought may look cute, since her cheeks had filled out, she looked up how to cut it. It didn’t look too hard, but Sophia’s experience with any of this was less than nil. She took the laptop into the bathroom and put it on the toilet. She brushed her hair smooth, then played the video, pausing each step until she completed it. When she had made the first snip she bit her lip and closed her eyes. Not the best way to cut hair, she had thought, but this was also more difficult than she had thought it would be.

She just kept telling herself that the sooner she got through all of this, the sooner she wouldn’t have to hide in the apartment. She refused, absolutely to be held prisoner any longer. It’s not Scott and Neil that held her prisoner, no, though initially it was them she was mad at. But they’re just keeping her safe, protecting her, like they had promised. She was still held prisoner by her father, and she wasn’t having it. No way in fucking hell was she having it anymore. She’s stronger now, and she has Scott and Neil. She will not cower from him and his abuse any longer. Hiding is still hiding, be it in a basement, a stairwell at school, the woods, or in this apartment. And she was done with it now. They’ve kept her safe long enough, and she knew that they would continue to. But she will, by damn, do her part. She will take her life back. And she will do it for herself, and for Neil, because no matter how much she tried to stay her hopeful thoughts, she believed there was something there.

She brushed her hair again and looked in the mirror. Not too bad. The cut filled out her face and gave a healthy look to her overall structure. She picked up the box of hair dye and read the instructions. Then she read them again. She was leaving her blonde behind and dying her hair a mahogany brown shade. She looked up whether that would go with her complexion, but in truth, it was a little too late, since that was what she already bought. Yes, she’s taking her life back, but she didn’t need to be foolish and tempt fate more than once that night. Besides, Neil was going to go through the fucking roof when he found out she had left the apartment. She paced the room trying to scrounge up the courage. Dying your hair was a big step. Not because it would be changing her appearance, but because the risk of screwing it up was high. Especially for a newbie like her. She went back into the bathroom, opened the box, donned the gloves, and poured the toner in with the die. She shook it vigorously like it said to, but it also said to make sure it was thoroughly mixed. How the hell was she supposed to know? Deciding it was better to be safe than sorry, she shook it another couple of minutes. Then following the guides, she sectioned off her hair and squeezed from the tube. She coated the strands all the way to the ends and was careful to get under the back, and her roots on the front. She read the instructions again. Twenty-five minutes. She set a timer then went back into Neil’s room.

While she waited for the minutes to tick by, she put a towel on the comforter then climbed onto the center of it, so if she dropped it wouldn’t ruin anything. Except maybe the towel, she wasn’t sure. She dumped the rest of the contents on the bed in front of her and started wading through them. She opened a makeup kit that advertises that it has everything you need for a day of beauty.

She looked at all the scrubs and washes, opening them up and smelling them. She wrinkled her nose at a couple and put those off to the side. She would not be using those. Neil surely wouldn’t find it attractive if she smelled like rotten broccoli. She moved on to the makeup. Lip plumper? What the hell is lip plumper? It sounded painful. She ran her fingers on her lips and decided that they seemed plump enough and she moved that to the side. She read the list of ingredients on the back of some of the items and raised an eyebrow. She was pretty sure some of it was toxic. She shrugged, millions of women wore it so it couldn’t be that bad, but she put it aside anyway, at least for now. She held an eyelash curler in her right hand, opening and closing it so that it clicked. Somehow, she just didn’t think it was a good idea to put her eyelashes in that. It looked like a miniature torture device. The buzzer went off.

She climbed off the bed and padded bare foot into the bathroom. Well, she thought. Here goes. She turned the shower on and stripped her clothes off. She climbed in and after she washed off, she vigorously scrubbed with the little tube the instructions had told her to use and then stood under the spray until the water ran clear. She climbed out, dried off, the entire time, afraid that she would hate it, but knowing it was necessary to take her life back. To take back control. She dressed in clean clothes, then pulled the towel off her hair and looked in the mirror. Her eyes widened. She didn’t even recognize herself. Not only was the sunken faced abused girl replaced by a face that was filled out and healthy, but her eyes sparkled, no longer sullen, or when it was at its worst, soulless. She pulled a seldom used hair dryer out from under the sink and blew her hair dry like the lady in the cutting tutorial said to. When it was dry, she fluffed it up with her hands and turned her head from one side to the other. Damn. She was pretty. Like pretty. And she looked different. Really different. She ran back and grabbed the makeup she had selected to use from off the bed and ran back in. She looked up how to use it all, careful to use a light hand. She wanted to enhance her beauty, and yes, change her appearance. But she didn’t want to look like an over-painted harlot who walked the streets at night.

When she was finished, she took a step back and closed her eyes. Here goes. She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. There was absolutely nothing that resembled the girl that Neil and Scott had rescued. Nothing. She looked like a young woman. A confident young woman. And she was pretty. She bounced on her tiptoes and laughed with glee. She swung her arms out the side and spun in circles then took a couple of leaps into the bedroom. There was no way anyone would recognize her. She didn’t even recognize herself. She briefly worried that Neil wouldn’t recognize her, then shook it off. He’s been with her all these months and shifted with her. He was her mentor. He’d recognize her by smell if nothing else.

Feeling a confidence that she never dreamed she would feel, she roamed the apartment. Every time she passed a shiny surface she had to stop and gaze at her reflection. In fact, the first time she absently did, she jumped in surprise then laughed at herself. She grinned from ear to ear. She started to snoop, opening cabinets and drawers. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get into the safe or the box, but there were other places she could snoop. She was looking for a sign as to what was going on. Where they’d gone. And what branch of the military they were. There were two levels of elite. The upper one was the most feared. The most violent. It was also said, they reveled in causing pain and had no remorse for their victims. That they had a robotic detachment that allowed them to do the vilest of acts. She moved into Scotts room and opened drawers at random. She felt mildly guilty for snooping, but then they never told her anything was off limits. She didn’t pay rent, but she took care of them the best that she could. She cooked, she cleaned, she did laundry. She made shopping lists, and she never complained when they made a mess in the living room right after she had polished the furniture or vacuumed the floor. She laughed at herself. Wow, did she sound knaggy. She pulled open another drawer and right on top lay a pistol. A semi-automatic handgun, to be precise. She ran her finger over it. Uh huh. She thought. She won’t be sitting here defenseless anymore with a bottle of cleaner as her only defense. She took it out of the drawer and carried it Neil’s room where she looked it up. She discovered it was a 9mm Luger and was good for self-defense. Sweet, she thought. She went through the tutorial step by step. She extended her arm and followed the instructions for firing a shot, though to be honest, she really didn’t know if she’d be able to. But it felt good to know she could. She noticed it fit perfectly in her hand, like it had been made for her. Not feeling the need to keep it on her, she lifted the corner of the mattress and placed it carefully under. She had a feeling there would be a day when she would have to know how to use it.

She went back into the living room, doing a little dance of excitement. She felt confidence, a strength that she never knew she could have. She climbed up on the couch and bounced, laughing like a child in a bouncy house. She never heard the door unlock through the squeaks. But metal, she smelled metal and rushed over her and assaulted her senses so fast she felt dizzy. She turned to the door just as Neil fell through it and landed with a thud on the floor. Sophia screamed and jumped off the couch. She ran to the door and slid into a squat like a baseman. She kicked the door shut and lost her shit. Neil was barely conscious. He was soaked in blood. She felt along his neck to see if his pulse was weak. It was stronger than she hoped and with trembling hands she searched his body for bullet wounds. So frantic to try to save him, not knowing what to do, where to even begin, she was unaware that her tears fell on him like a spring rain. She was unaware that in that moment, she was the only one who could save him.