Chapter 13
Kasey
I surfaced slowly, like my mind was trying to swim through thick syrup.
Every part of me felt heavy and overheated, my skin was too tight, my heartbeat was too loud in my ears.
The aftereffects always came in waves. First, the exhaustion, then the ache, then the hallow buzzing, emptiness that made it hard to tell where my body ended and where the world began.
Sometimes, like right now, the nausea came out of the blue, hitting me with a force that made my breath catch.
I blinked against the dim light, vision blurring before it settled. A ceiling I didn’t recognize stared back at me.
I tried to breathe through the panic that bubbled up, my chest tight. My thoughts scattered, slipping away before I could grab them. I remembered…something. The kitchen. A voice. A blanket. Hands that weren’t hurting me.
But that didn’t make any sense.
Lockswell didn’t have blankets that felt comfortable. They didn’t have soft voices.
My breath hitched, sharp and painful. The room tilted and my fingers curled into something soft that was in my hold. A quick look down showed a stuffed animal I didn’t remember having before…everything.
Then, the nausea rolled up further, giving no warning. I barely had time to turn to my side before I gagged, coughing and spluttering what little was in my system.
A trash can was magically there, too quick for me to figure out how that can was there, just thankfully that I wouldn’t be making a mess on the floor or bed.
Sagging against the bed, letting the softness soothe the frazzled feelings, my eyes slipped closed. I told myself it’d only be for a moment. Just a single moment with the soft stuffed animal pulled to my chest.
Just a moment…then I’d wake up. Then I’d do…whatever was on the schedule. Which would be to serve another client? Which would entail more pills that I didn’t want. Which would cause more pain and more rolling nausea.
I was so tired.
Tired of being told, I had to serve. Tired of having to be perfect. Just…tired of living.
Why couldn’t my body just give up already? Why did it keep me waking up and having to repeat the same thoughts, the same actions, nearly every single day?
“It’s okay, sweetheart. Just rest.” With the voice came the softest touch to my hair line. It was so nice, being touched with care, like I could break.
But then a moment later, my eyes flashed open. No one touched me with care. No one ever treated me like I could break, because I was already broken.
The room was brighter now, as though I had dozed for a few more hours, but my body felt otherwise. It was hollow and achy in a way that told me the pill hadn’t fully left my system. My head throbbed with that familiar lingering fog.
As my eyes adjusted, the second thing I noticed made my breath catch.
There was a man kneeling in front of me.
An Alpha. Kneeling.
No. That wasn’t right. That wasn’t allowed. I’m the one who kneels. Not him. Never him.
The thought hit so hard that my stomach twisted. Panic surged up my throat, sharp and dizzying. My body tried to move, tried to drop lower to correct the mistake, to do what I’ve been trained to do, but nothing obeyed. My limbs felt sluggish, uncoordinated like they belonged to someone else.
Before I could process the wrongness of it all, before I could force myself into the posture I was meant to hold, the Alpha spoke, his voice low and steady.
“Kasey, don’t move. You’re alright right where you are.”
The words didn’t make sense. Alphas didn’t kneel. The Alphas didn’t speak softly. The Alphas didn’t tell Omegas not to kneel.
The room tilted, my vision blurred. I tried to push myself upright, tried to fix whatever mistake I’d made, but my arms trembled uselessly.
The Alpha lifted his hands slightly, palms open, as if showing me he meant no harm.
“You’re safe,” the words were spoken softer this time, “You don’t have to kneel. Not here. Remember, that’s a new rule. No kneeling for me.”
The words only made me panic more. Safe didn’t exist. Safe wasn’t real. Safe was something people said right before everything got worse.
My breath came too fast and my heart hammered painfully against my ribs. I couldn’t make sense of the room, the light, and the Alpha kneeling in front of me. Nothing fit. Nothing matched the rules that were carved into me.
And the more I tried to understand, the more everything inside me unraveled.
The room kept tilting, even though I wasn’t moving. Every time I blinked, the light shifted. It was too bright at the edges, too soft in the center. My heart wouldn’t slow down. It hammered against my ribs like it was trying to escape. The aftereffects of the pill crawled under my skin.
I tried to breathe, but each inhale came out sharp and thin. My hands shook so badly I curled them into fists, clutching the animal against my chest.
I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what I was supposed to be doing. I didn’t know who was coming next. I didn’t know.
The panic rose fast, choking, a wave I couldn’t outrun. My throat burned as each breath forced its way out of my lungs.
I folded in on myself, trying to make my body smaller and quieter. Invisible.
A sound cut through the panic. “Kasey?”
The voice was gentle. Too gentle. That made the panic worse. I needed orders. I needed to kneel.
“It’s just me.” The voice said. The voice was too close and too far away at the same time.
I shook my head, unable to form words. My breath came faster and faster. Tears spilled without warning, hot and silent, blurring everything into streaks of light.
The Alpha crouched a few feet away, close enough to see but far enough not to crowd. His hands were open, empty, and steady.
“You’re having a panic spike,” he whispered just loud enough to reach me. “You’re not doing anything wrong.”
Wrong.
The words made my stomach twist. I curled tighter, shaking.
The Alpha didn’t touch me. He didn’t move closer. He reached instead for something on the nightstand. The sound of pills rattling in the bottle sent a chill of fear down my spine.
“No…I…good, Sir. Good. No.” I shook, my voice broken as I scooted backwards.
I didn’t want another pill. I didn’t want to burn from within with a need that wouldn’t be given.
I didn’t-
“Kasey.” Although my name was spoken like I was hurting him, I froze, my body shaking almost uncontrollably. “Doctor Moore left a mild antianxiety option for moments like this. It’s safe. It’ll help you breathe again.”
Lies.
I squeezed my eyes shut. My chest hurt. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. I couldn’t get enough air. The room felt too big and too small at the same time.
The Alpha’s voice stayed steady. “You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to, but it’ll help.”
I forced my eyes to open. He wasn’t looming. He wasn’t demanding. He just knelt there, holding up an orange pill bottle in his hand.
My breath stuttered.
I’d rather die than take another pill. I couldn’t.
But I knew I did have to take it. If an Alpha or handler said I didn’t have to, I still did. I didn’t get choices, even though I would rather do anything than take another pill.
So, instead of saying no over and over again, I nodded once, my chin wobbling at how easy I caved.
Easy to just give in and let whoever wanted to do whatever they wanted to me. My body was no longer my own, and being in a different bed didn’t mean a single thing changed.
I was still an Omega. I was still to serve to the best of my abilities. And I was never to refuse whatever an Alpha wanted to do to me, even if that included making me bleed.
The Alpha’s shoulders eased, just barely at my acceptance. He took a single pill into his palm and held it out with a glass of water that had a straw sticking out of the top.
“Slow sips, alright.”
I didn’t bother to reach out to take the cup. I already knew if I tried, the water would end up all over the bed. Maybe this man knew that, too, as he lifted the straw to my lips after he slip a pill between them.
The Alpha didn’t comment; he just stayed there after I took a few sips and sat the cup aside. He let me breathe through the panic.
The trembling didn’t stop right away. The tears didn’t either. But the room slowly stopped spinning, and the air didn’t feel quite as thin.
The Alpha’s voice softened even more. “You’re doing really well. Just keep breathing. I’m right here.”
And for the first time since waking, the panic lessoned its grip. It was just enough for me to feel the weight of the mattress beneath me, the softness of the blanket, and the quiet presence of someone who wasn’t going to hurt me.
The panic didn’t vanish all at once. It lingered in the corners of my chest, tight and aching, like a bruise that hadn’t faded.
My hands still trembled and my breath still hitched.
But the sharp edges of fear began to dull, just slightly, like someone had turned the volume down on everything inside me.
The pill was working. I could feel it. It was better than the ones that the handlers always gave out. Instead of inducing a thrumming need, this one calmed me down.
I curled tighter into the blanket; the stuffed animal pressed against my chest like a lifeline. Its fur was worn, its seams uneven, but it was soft. Real.
The Alpha hadn’t moved. He stayed nearby, watching. Not speaking. His posture was steady, breathing slowly. I could feel it more than see it, like gravity, like something anchoring me to the room.
I blinked slowly, vision clearing enough to see the light filtering through the curtains. It was morning. Or close to it.
My body still felt wrong. It ached in places that I didn’t want to think about. It itched deep inside, like nothing was ever going to be alright again.
And how could it be okay? How could my service be good enough for this Alpha, any Alpha, when I was broken past repair inside?
“Can you hear me?”
I nodded, barely. My throat felt raw, like I spent days screaming at the top of my lungs.
“You’re doing okay,” he said. “You’re safe. You’re here. No one’s going to hurt you.”
The words didn’t land all the way, but they didn’t bounce off either. They settled somewhere in the space between panic and belief.
I clutched the stuffed animal tight; fingers curled around its faded seams. It helped me. Not enough to make the fear go away, but enough to keep me from slipping under again.
It’d be so easy, too. To slip away and let the darkness take over. To let the emptiness take hold. It was right there within reach. But something kept me grounded in the present.
Maybe it was this confusing Alpha who was too kind. Maybe it was the mixture of the pills running through my system. Or maybe it was something I just couldn’t name.
The Alpha didn’t reach for me. He didn’t ask questions, as if he knew I wasn’t capable of forming many thoughts.
“You’re breathing better now. That’s good.” He paused, debating with himself before he finally reached out and brushed hair off my forehead. It didn’t do any good, but his touch was nice. Warm.
My eyes closed against my will.
“Just rest, sweetheart. That’s all I want from you right now. Rest. The medicine I gave you will likely make you fall asleep for a little longer, and that’s okay. Let it do its job to keep you from panicking.”
“Kay.” I’m not sure if the word actually got spoken or not, but it didn’t matter. Not as my body melted into the mattress like it was going to save me from whatever would happen next.