Free the Omegas!
This is too much.
Closing the curtains, I walk back to the living room and sit numbly on the loveseat, waiting for my “exam.”
In less than an hour, I’m prescribed a suppressant detox and panic medication to use as needed.
“Any time you want,” the doctor adds kindly. She’s a Beta, just like the woman that brought me to my suite, but she’s infinitely kinder. “If you run out, just call down to the front, and we’ll have it delivered to you. Some Omegas take them daily when they first arrive, to get used to the new environment.”
The longer she speaks, the more nauseous I grow.
She holds my hair back in the bathroom as I vomit into the toilet, reassuring me that everything will be okay.
That I will like it here.
She tells me that most of the Alphas are kind, and if they hurt us, they’re escorted from the premises.
The doctor says I’m special, and what I’m doing for the world outweighs any discomfort I might feel.
She strokes my hair as I collapse on the bathroom floor, tears staining the marble floor.
“You’ll be okay,” she promises, as if this isn’t the first time she’s dealt with a hysterical Omega.
I want to believe her, I really do.
But I can’t.
I sink into myself, shoving my heart and feelings into the darkest part of my mind.
I don’t resurface.