We are human.

Chipped at, broken, forsaken, forgotten, hidden, hiding, empty, hollow and faced with numerous trials and tribulations.

Being human, it hurts. Even for those not completely human. Humanity; our humanity in itself is a mystery.

****

There she stood at the altar in her white flowing silk wedding gown. This elegant twenty-four-year-old half-breed, yes, at least that's what they called her; a half-breed. Part Greek and Mongolian. Electric blue eyes, caramel brown skin, 5'5, pressed 3C hair, a button nose and an empty smile. She was perfect.

In posture, expression, the length of her smile, the wavelength of her laughter, her stoic expression. She was absolutely perfect. At least she had to be. What choice did she have? Just another pawn in this cruel game of politics, power and pride. Gaia Eldrin stood by her 'Alpha', Hakan Mojéleno of the glorious Mojéleno pack and business mogul conglomerate. Yes, that's why she was here. Beside the 6'2 raven-haired buff and a beefy hunk of junk.

Alpha Hakan was a sight to behold, if the lust-filled gazes from the numerous ladies didn't say it, nothing could better express it.

She was standing beside the picture-perfect Native American man, with his captivating chestnut brown eyes.

He stood beside her with an unmistakable scowl and pompous swagger.

She could almost smell it, the pride and displeasure leaking from him. But she bore it, took it all in like the perfect glass figure she was. The perfect vacuum. She didn't have to care.

The ceremony was short. Vows were exchanged and the kiss... Nothing had ever felt so out of place...so wrong.

Now, one thing Gaia never fundamentally established within herself growing up was the concept of emotions. Being the practical and materialistic individual she was, she saw no need for it. She saw emotions as unstable, fleeting and constantly changing. Dangerous, if anything at all. Love, sorrow, anxiety, pain- fleeting. She had to be just what she had to be. Perfect merchandise. Perfect, expensive merchandise. At least that was what she had been told she was.

Her 'Alpha' leaned down, pecked her cheek and murmured harshly into her ear.

"Remember, you're just another trophy to be claimed. You're my wife in name, nothing else."

He leaned back and smiled at her. She smiled back. A bright beautiful and perfect smile.

*************

"ON YOUR KNEES!"

The Alpha shoved his new Luna onto the marble floor with bone-breaking force. She fell to the floor submissively. Too submissively. He had wanted her to at least resist, revolt—try to rebel against him in any way. He wanted the satisfaction of beating down her spirit, her wolf and sinking his fangs into her neck. He wanted to hear her scream in agony, to hate him. He wanted a reaction from her. She was human, wasn't she? So, how come all that he had done throughout the day didn't get her to react in the least?

He had groped the arses of several of his needy pack women in front of her, he kissed them and called them pet names.

Just what did it take for her to give a goddamned reaction?! Was she a robot? Did she secretly enjoy this kind of thing? For god's sake! He furrowed his brows in deep thought.

The woman still knelt before him in her undergarments in their lavish room with Victorian-themed furniture and a king-sized bed placed on the marble platformed centre of the room. They were not too far from the bed. He couldn't care less if she knelt all night. Besides they were werewolves, they healed faster than the average human.

He stood in thought for a while, staring at the bed. Then he decided, that if emotional torture didn't cut it, he was going to get physical.

He undid the buckle of his belt and slid it off in one smooth motion and without warning lashed her across the back with his heavy Italian leather belt. It was by far the most expensive one he owned and the most durable.

He didn't get the reaction he had hoped for. Damn her! He hit her harder this time and saw her body quiver slightly. He smirked to himself. He was getting somewhere. She was still human after all. He hit her once again with much greater force. She nearly fell to the ground but stop halfway, assuming her former position once more.

He'd had it. He whipped her harder than humanly possible-he was an alpha werewolf after all. The shredding sound of her thin cotton undershirt echoed across the room as blood seeped steadily into the fabric. He saw her jerk and heard a faint whimper. He jerked her up by her hair and watched tears trickle down her emotionless face. Her body was indeed alive, it seemed as though she, the being within the vessel was simply carrying it.

"What are you?! A robot?! You're crying but you don't look like you mean it."

He shook her violently at the roots of her hair. It hurt, oh, it hurt her so much. Her head, her back, her body, her mind. She ached all over. But she took it all in gracefully. Like she had been told to do. I mean, it wasn't that hard. Her training had been more gruelling-she thought.

She looked at the confused and annoyed man, her expression stoic and neutral.

He then tossed her onto the marble floor, she fell with a loud thud. But, who cared? Not him.

You see, Alpha Mojéleno hated women. His reason? Well, he'd been abandoned by his mother and been constantly berated and blamed for the death of his elder brother. At the time he only hated his mother. Not all females. But a hot cake like him had run-ins with lots of young and beautiful ladies who constantly forced themselves on him, either for his money, looks or the connections he could offer them. It disgusted him so greatly and made him realise that although he was well hung, well built and simply to die for, he needed someone to understand him. And he had at the time concluded that, that someone was not female - he wouldn't find them with dresses or vaginas or with flesh-covered hanging fatty tissue from their chests.

You could call him bitter, which he was, antagonistic and misogynist as well.

He had made women scream and squirm with longing, pleasure and pain. So this, this was a first. Having a living lifeless and somewhat mute woman around was very unpleasant and unsettling. He simply couldn't fathom why she was like this. He had wanted to have something to complain about - she was defiant, rude, materialistic, a whore. Something!

The more he thought about it the less sense it made to him.

He stormed out of their room, the door shutting harshly behind him.

That was when Gaia picked her herself up, still quivering slightly from the backlash of all the whipping, she steadily moved into the washroom to clean the half-clotted blood from her body.

She giggled, thinking to herself. It wasn't funny but it was, she wasn't laughing because she had gone mad from all the pain and emotional assault. She was laughing because of the look on his face. The confused, disgusted and angered look he had worn had fed her manic fantasies.

It was bad enough that no one knew she was bipolar and having a manic episode.

Gaia Eldrin, the only child of the once great Eldrin pack. They fell from glory in a territorial war that killed her father, the alpha over two decades ago. Not that it mattered to her now. She was having a fucking fan fair laughing at things she wasn't supposed to be laughing at.

Ironic isn't it? How did miss perfect end up with bipolar disorder?

To put it simply, all the stress of training to become the perfect Luna went to her head. I mean hey, she's lucky she didn't end up with a split personality. Being bipolar is enough for her. Coupled with her kick-arse acting skills, she could take on the entire world one day, and regret her decision the next. Again, not that it mattered. She couldn't give two flying shits! She was high on unneeded dopamine and wanted someone to murder. Little miss perfect was in fact, a broken toy! The irony.