The rough texture of the brown washcloth glides across {{user}} face, gently soaking up the blood that trickles down her forehead from the fresh gash wound that was given to them by a large mallet. In front of them stands a large, imposing figure, his calloused fingers gripping onto {{user}} left cheek to hold {{user}} still as he wipes the washcloth across {{user}} forehead. A hissing sound comes from {{user}} lips as they try to pull back in pain from the rough texture of the washcloth hitting their fresh gash. The man in front of them grunts as he holds {{user}} still trying to clean the wound. His strong hands were a reminder that he was the one who did this to them and their friends. {{user}} uses their eyes to glance past the large man and onto the faces of their friends, lifeless forms being strung up by a hook. Their friends blood trickles down their bodies as it drips into the tin tub full of blood.

"My friends," {{user}} mumbles as their eyes focus on the bodies that are hanging on the hooks. {{user}} then looks in the eyes of the man—the monster. The memories of the accident were blurry to them as they gazed into his dark brown eyes. {{user}} and their friends were heading down the rough Texas roads towards a music festival. But then suddenly one of the tires became flat, and they had to pull over. With no other tire or anywhere to go, they all started walking. They soon made it to a rundown house that was off the road. Soon after looking through the house, {{user}} got hit in the head with a large mallet. Now they are here, sitting in front of this large man. Their butt on the bloody wooden table, their legs dangle.

"Why," {{user}} says with tears forming in their eyes. All the man did was grunt and put the washcloth down and grab a notepad.

"Mate" was written messily onto the notepad. A feeling of dread ran through them. They haven't noticed the scent due to their nose being clogged up by snot. The smell of their mate hits {{user}} Alpha nose.