BAY #11
"Alex, don’t beat yourself up. I’ll get through this and things will go back to normal…" I murmur, still feeling the faint warmth of his lips on my cheek.
My eyes drop to my feet under the hospital blanket. I wish, I secretly dream that he would do it again, but then I mentally slap myself.
Shame, embarrassment, anger… everything comes flooding back again, because there’s no running from it, right?
Oh, how I desire to turn back time and make different choices, never investigating that rustling sound in the bushes, never getting involved in any of it.
I don’t want that part of my life. I want the part where I can get closer to Alex.
But I can’t.
I can’t.
I don’t deserve it.
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After two days I am discharged from the hospital and my parents take me home to recover, making sure Jordan stays with me at all times while they are at work.
By the second day Alex shows up as well, his dad dropping him off, and as it turns out they live about ten minutes away from us. My dad offers to have Jordan drive Alex back, an arrangement Prosecutor Strada readily accepts.
When Alex steps into my room I feel a sudden wave of stress for no real reason, because my room is honestly pretty amazing, one of the biggest in the house, with enough space to give all my instruments a proper place, my keyboard, my cello, my drum set, and several guitars lining the walls.
My bed is large, and on the ceiling I have a special luminescent wallpaper of a galaxy that glows beautifully when the lights are off.
Alex looks around shyly.
"Wow, a musician’s room…" he says.
He walks toward the bed with his backpack and hesitates as if he wants to say more, but all he manages is, "How are you feeling?"
"A little better," I tell him, more for his sake than because it is strictly true, since he looks like he has been carrying around some kind of guilt.
"That was horrible," he whispers. "Seeing them beat you… I hate them. Hate them!" He lets out a breath. "I have trouble sleeping; the moment I close my eyes, I see you suffering, and I can’t… just can’t stand it."
I look away, because I refuse to let myself feel anything sweet or warm just because Alex genuinely cares about me. I cannot allow that to deepen.
"I hope you’re safe?" I ask, keeping my tone almost light.
"Yes. Rob and Vin pretend I don’t exist, people in class gossip nonstop, but they avoid me like the plague."
A moment of silence stretches, and Alex bites his lip.
"Also, I talked to Dereck. He’ll come over to help you catch up on your electives since he has similar ones. I’ll help you with the rest," he says, sounding like he’s trying to force a steady, businesslike tone, almost exactly like his dad’s.
I can see him wrestling with himself to add something more, but he seems afraid to say it, which is probably for the best. I point to the chair and he pulls it closer. I grab my tablet and we get to work.
Alex spends nearly two hours with me, going over everything I missed in class.
As all this is happening, I notice Alex staring at the pile of small pillows on the armchair by the window.
Every now and then, his gaze drifts back there, stubbornly, like he cannot help it.
Finally, he snaps, breaks off his studying, and carries an armful of pillows over to the bed.
Without saying a word, with a slight frown on his face, he starts arranging them around me in a circle.
At first, I want to protest, but then it suddenly hits my slightly foggy brain.
Alex is building something that looks like a makeshift nest!
He does not seem to fully understand what he is doing himself; his expression is strange, almost startled, as if he is surprising even himself, and yet his hands keep moving on their own.
Alex isn’t a fully mature omega, so even though nesting starts showing up in the teen years, in a preliminary way, it’s pretty clear he has no idea what’s going on.
Before long, I am surrounded by a ring of pillows. The purpose is not entirely clear to me. There is only one thought that comes to mind: Alex wants me to feel wrapped up, safe? So, I do not dare to comment.
When we finish, my dad and Jordan walk in, ready to drive him home, and we say our goodbyes.
Then I notice my dad’s gaze traveling over the circle of pillows, and he raises an eyebrow. Alex immediately turns red and takes his backpack, lowering his head shyly.
When Jordan steps out with Alex, my dad mutters to me, "Did Alex build that?"
"Yes," I answer, unsure whether I should explain anything more. I’m well aware that nesting is a sensitive subject for omegas.
"Hmm. I did something similar once for your father when he was feeling unwell. It seems like Alex truly cares about you. That is an instinctive omega response. Omegas want to protect who matters most to them."
I stare at him for a moment, but the words get stuck in my throat. What could I even say? I have no real understanding of nesting at all. I badly want him to leave because my head is throbbing.
Dad sighs, and suddenly sits at the edge of my bed.
I feel irritated, I do not want to talk, I am exhausted, and I do not understand what this is all about, but I have a bad premonition.
"Bay, is there something I should know?"
Gosh, I hate how worried he sounds.
But, yeah. He kinda should. He should shoot them before they…
I shut my eyes tight. Breathe, Bay.
"What are you talking about?" I mutter, tense and defensive.
"You’ve changed. Something happened. Please tell me if this has anything to do with… what happened with the people from my past."
His question hits me like boiling water being splashed in my face. Why can’t he let it go? Is this his intuition, or what? I squeeze my eyes even tighter and try not to let anything show, fighting to control myself.
YES!
You should have saved me!
"No, Dad," I lie. "I just have… problems. Different ones."
"What problems? Can I help you? Is this about…" He hesitates. "About the itching? The doctor told us you had irritation from scratching. He even ran a full panel to figure out what’s going on, but nothing came up."
A full panel? I feel a strange sense of relief. If I’d caught something from those bastards, it would show up in the test results. It’s reassuring to know my health is still okay.
"No, it’s not that, but yeah, my skin itches."
"Maybe it’s the same thing Snow has," Dad says hesitantly. "Natural tattoos."
I tense up.
"You know, Snow also has these… natural tattoos. They started appearing a few years ago. It isn’t impossible that you have something similar."
I glance at my forearm, but there is nothing there.
"I once found something about this on some niche forum online. Apparently it’s a sign of having a high amount of alien blood.
But there’s more. The so-called deva soul can only live in a powerful body with that kind of high percentage of alien DNA.
Snow’s one of them, a sorcerer. You could be like that too. "
"Dad, that sounds like a fairy tale," I mutter. "Urban legends. Devas? Is that like angels?"
"Different cultures call them different things, depending on their wings’ looks. They usually have unusual abilities, so regular people started calling them sorcerers, but their power is… immense. They’re like seeds of gods."
Sighing, I grimace. "That sounds… ridiculous."
"You can’t deny Snow can do… a lot. He has incredible intuition, and he can—"
I let out an irritated sound.
"I’m nothing like him! I don’t have powers! If someone wants to hurt me, they will!" I snap, and then the silence drops.
I desperately want him to leave the room, because I know that the longer he stays the harder it will be to keep lying. The urge to throw the truth in his face is almost overwhelming, and it is growing, right along with the anger simmering under my skin.
"Dad, I’m tired. I worked with Alex, and I have a concussion. It's too much, don’t you think?"
"Bay, you know you don’t have to catch up with school right now. When you recover…"
"I don’t want to fall behind!" I snap, even though the truth is I don’t care, but this way… Alex will be coming over every day.
A moment of silence.
"That Alex…" Dad presses his lips together. "Do you get along with him?"
"Yes, really well."
"Do you like him?"
I narrow my eyes, trying to figure out where he is going with this. His face looks doubtful, uneasy, almost confused.
"Is that a problem?" I ask.
"No, no…! But I’d like to get to know him better."
I have no idea why he says that or why he looks so uncertain, but I shrug. "I don’t think Alex would mind. He’s great. He’s really good at math and an amazing chess player."
"And besides that… is there anything about him that is, let’s say, strange or unusual or concerning?"
I stare at him, shocked. Those are words that do not suit my dad at all. What is he even talking about?
He quickly looks away, embarrassed.
"Ah, never mind. What matters is that you two get along and that Alex so kindly wants to help you with school…"
He jumps to his feet and leaves quickly, avoiding my eyes.
It was strange, but I refuse to dwell on it.
It turns out my dad had a whole bunch of secrets buried in his past. Who knows what else is hiding in his head… but one thing’s for sure, mine is killing me right now.
I manage to pull out my dark journal from the drawer and write down what happened, what I felt when the Hansons beat me, and how, strangely, it numbed me a little.
I guess, it helped in some twisted way, one pain pushing out another. I close my eyes, my head throbbing, and despite all of it I let myself feel a quiet, guilty satisfaction.
More pain, more gain, I paraphrase.
Alex will be here tomorrow.
I glance at the circle of pillows around me. Well, it's quite cozy now; I can appreciate that.
Anyway, with Alex… everything is better. Even the pain tastes sweeter.
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