Calliope’s Follow Up Post
I see that I got a lot of questions in my last post, so I decided to answer them here. The main question I saw was how I decided on a specific victim. That was the easy part. I worked as an investigative journalist. Some of you may have seen me on TV reporting on my own crimes. I assure you, I thoroughly enjoyed that. I used my job to find my victims. Every day, I received an email with the booking report for the local jail. That’s actually a pretty standard practice, all crime reporters get those emails. So, each day I scanned the list, taking note of the charges each alpha had. The ones that were in there for rape or domestic violence I looked deeper into. Of those, I only selected the ones that had targeted an omega.
The next most asked question was when I started killing. I can give you an exact date, time, and location, but if you went there all you would find is a burnt-out shell of a mansion. So instead, I’ll tell you about the first man I killed.
His name was Jarrod, and he was my high school sweetheart. The moments we shared in those hallways carried me through some of the worst things you can imagine for an omega. It all started with words—that’s how most abusive situations start. Little jabs that killed your self-esteem.
I thought that would be the worst of it, I never thought he would actually hit me. Until the day he did. An open hand slap that sent me to the ground. I had a perfect welt in the shape of his hand on my face for nearly a week. That was just the start. At first, it was once a month that he would hit me. Then once a week. And finally, every day. I never left the house after that started. Ordering all my groceries delivered and cutting all contact with friends. I felt like I had no family to care what happened to me.
It was nearly a year to the day after we graduated that he raped me for the first time. The bastard had the balls to blame me for it, saying that it wouldn’t have happened if we fucked more often. Kind of hard to want someone who treats you like absolute shit. After that it was a nearly nightly experience. Up until my heat hit. The first night of my heat was hell for me. I spent that night and the following three tied to a bed begging for someone to help me.
When Jarrod came back into the room on the last night of my heat, he was leading a group of men. Far too many to belong to any one single pack. I’ll never forget the way all of their alpha scents mixed. It was nauseating. I won’t lie to you and say that Iremember everything that happened that night. There was a parade of faces, and an unknown number of hands moving me around.
There are things that I will never forget. How Jarrod looked down at me as I lay there completely broken. The sheer happiness I knew he felt when he forced himself on me. The pain of his teeth tearing into my throat leaving a nasty scar of a bond mark. When everyone left, he finally untied me. It was a relief to be let go, until he locked the front door on the way out. There was no escape from that house, I had tried and failed many times.
I don’t know what made me open his laptop that night, but when I did, I was disgusted. He had left a deep web browser open to a website that promoted the abuse of omegas. The thread he was posting on that night was to sell me to the highest bidder. I had been listed like cattle. It made me sick. Finding that ad, it was like the blinders were pulled from my eyes. I was still sitting there staring at the screen when he came home. When he came at me, fists flying, I just snapped. Tearing his throat out was both the hardest and most liberating thing that I had ever done.
Cain is telling me that dinner is about ready, so I’ll end it there. Cain and Dax should have their posts up in the next few days.
Until next time, lock your doors, keep an eye on your kids and most importantly—don’t trust anyone.