38. Red
Chapter thirty-eight
Red
Dr Marilyn Woods balances her notepad on one knee and presses the pen down with her manicured thumb. Crimson nail polish really is a bit much for a woman at her age, but yay for self-expression or whatever. I’m not as thrilled about all the questions she has for me.
“Do you enjoy reckless activities, Red?”
I flutter my eyelashes at her. “Do you enjoy the feeling of power you get from ticking a box to determine someone’s future, Dr Woods?” I won’t tremble in fear of these people anymore. I have an alpha, a maybe-job, and a lawyer waiting for me on the outside, and failing all of that, I’m fucking capable on my own two feet.
Just so long as I don’t go into heat.
Her penciled brows pop. “I’m detecting hints of animosity.”
“Hints?” I drawl. “No, my dear doctor, I’m drenched in it.”
She nods, taking my sass in her stride. “And who do you think is the true recipient of your anger?”
All the talking in circles and ping-pong emotions would be a child’s play for me if my head didn’t pound like my alphas were physically trapped inside. It’s been getting worse, to the point where I’m freaking out. I rest my head on my hand, leaning sideways on the couch so I don’t break eye contact with my therapist .
I lift my own brows. “Do you think you’re undeserving of my anger, after writing me off as unfit for human society?”
She sighs almost imperceptibly and removes her glasses. The change softens her expression a little. “Since my internal clinical notes somehow made their way into your hands, I’d like for you to at least recall the precise wording. I said you weren’t approved for release to a pack under current analysis.”
Dr Woods shifts her position, tucking the notepad down the side of her armchair. “I never said you weren’t fit for society, and that simply means you need further support.”
“Potayto, potahto.” I sneer. “That’s just a bevy of words to keep me locked up here.” I jump to my feet and pace over to the window. “But it’s different this time. My alphas are coming to get me.”
The static in my head flares, blinding me. I rock forward to rest my hands on the windowsill. Something’s wrong. Is it because Rickon’s in the hospital? My gut tells me it’s another problem entirely.
Tapping sounds behind me. “And did you tell them about your heat anxiety?”
Heat anxiety? What a cute, pretty word for it. Let’s add a shiny red bow and call it my gift. I sneer. How’s it possible to loathe a stranger as much as I do this woman?
“You gatekeepers are all the same,” I hiss. “Justifying your power plays over me with dozens of big words aimed to wrap me up in knots until I can’t think straight.” Heat burns through my face as I clench my fists. “You think those bastards didn’t do the same thing, trying to force me into saying I agreed to being raped through my heats? Having my haze extracted like I’m some kind of milking cow? How are you any different from them?”
I throw my hands up toward the security locks on the windows and the walls. “Yeah, this prison is more comfortable and the cuffs don’t dig into my skin every time I thrash.” I round on her, glaring. “But at the end of the day, I’m still thrashing, aren’t I?”
“What is it you’re trying to escape?”
Her question stops me in her tracks. An ache builds in my chest, and I grab at my shirt collar, trying to loosen the pressure. “You know,” I mutter darkly.
“I can’t know unless you tell me.”
I won’t let her get to me. Can’t fall into her trap of admitting things. But the room feels stuffy and my shirt’s too tight. Even the damn pale blue paint on the walls seems fakely sympathetic to the burning sensation working its way from my ribs up to my neck.
“I can hear your pain, Red. Have you heard it yourself?”
“I’m not in pain,” I snarl. No, it’s that one alpha in my head who’s in pain—the one whining like a cornered animal. I need to hurry up and find them all.
“Have you thought about what you’ll do during your heats with a pack?”
I squeeze my eyes shut. Yes, of course I have. I went through Rickon’s rut with him. Of course I tried to picture myself on his bed as the heat fever enveloped me. For a moment I can imagine it, and then—
Then all I see is that fucking bastard of an alpha leering at me in the dark while he denies me his knot so the needles can eat me up over and over. I gasp and lean one hand against the wall, my lungs punching me from the inside.
A warm hand rests on my shoulder. “You’re in the Omega Center, Red. You can feel my touch on your shoulder, hear the birds outside. You can move your hands freely. The things you’re seeing aren’t here any longer, and they never will be again.” Her grip tightens and then relaxes. “Can you take a deep breath in for me?”
I have no choice but to follow the breathing pattern she leads me through, because my body’s forgotten how to breathe on its own. Once I’m a little more stable, Dr Woods leads me back to the sofas.
“This is the reason we want you to have more time with us, Red. It’s not to hold you against your will, but only to give you some coping mechanisms.”
My alphas are my coping mechanism. I clench my teeth against the words. I’ve already exposed myself too much today. No need to give her more ammunition.
I smile as nicely as I can muster. “So, what is this, a ten-step program or something?”
She smiles and slots her glasses back on her nose. “We can figure something like that out, if it helps you to visualize it as steps. But you have to be open to an organic process. It might take some time.”
I still consider this place a prison, but the way to escape it is different than the House of Bitches. Even if I continue to run away, they’ll drag me back until I get their approval, and the whole world will side with their logic. Protect the omega; even if it’s against her will. I need a different kind of escape plan.
“Can I see my alphas?”
Her lips purse. “If they make themselves known to the Center and pass our verification process, then yes.”
I turn away to hide my grin, tapping my teeth in victory. They’ll come for me. I’m surer than ever. If it’s just a matter of dotting and crossing some letters with this woman, then I need to create the character who can do it. Someone like the Joker, someone who’s so good at emotional dissonance that I can fool even this psych doctor.
“All right. I can see I was being stubborn,” I murmur, rubbing my lip. “So long as you promise you’re not trying to keep me captive here.” The person known as Red dives deep inside, to be locked away. Who do I need? Someone softer, someone delicate as a flower and vulnerable as a rabbit—a Daisy.
The sooner Daisy gets the doctor’s tick of approval, the sooner I can go track down my missing alpha. And I’d better hurry, because a shivery fear deep in my belly says he’s not doing well.