2. Delilah
Chapter two
It takes less than ten minutes for the ward to settle down again after King’s spectacular entrance, but it takes twice as long for my heart to stop racing.
He didn’t even come near enough for me to really get a good sniff, but his scent still lingers in the air.
Rich, deep sweetness of honey and vanilla with a dark spice to it that I can’t quite place with such a faint trace in the air.
It’s the first scent in a very long time that doesn’t make me want to violently expel my lungs from my chest any way that I can manage. And that scares the living shit out of me.
I’m so caught up in my thoughts that I don’t hear the nurse approaching and jump with a shout when she puts a hand on my shoulder. I whip around to find Claire leaning over me with a patronizing smile.
“It’s time for your morning session. Are you ready, my dear?” she asks, probably aiming for motherly but there’s no warmth in her eyes to provide comfort.
I swallow, my skin breaking out in a cold sweat. I nod, knowing that it doesn’t really matter if I’m ready. I’ll end up in the room with Dr. Stuart either way.
I stand and follow Claire down the hall, my eyes glancing at the closed door where they took King not that long ago, almost disappointed that I can’t hear anything behind the thick slab. They really did give him the good shit.
Continuing down the hall, Claire knocks on a familiar door, opening it when a Slavic-accented voice calls for us to enter. I subconsciously smooth the front of my pale blue sweats, trying to keep my hands steady and wipe away the sweat.
“Ah. Omega Montgomery. Excellent.”
I look at Victor Stuart, one of the lead psychiatric doctors in the facility.
He’s dressed in the same crisp white shirt and black tie as always, his white coat completely free of dust or wrinkles.
His dark eyes study me intently from behind thick-rimmed glasses, his full head of hair styled without a strand out of place.
Taking a seat on the couch, I perch myself on the edge, tucking my hands under my thighs to keep from fidgeting. I try to smile, but I can’t make the corners of my lips do more than twitch up for a moment.
“Your detective has been in contact again, and I had to inform him we haven’t made any more progress in your condition, omega,” he starts, voice heavy with disappointment.
I tuck my chin, my shoulders slumping as I shrink into myself under his scrutiny. His scent is strong with something caustic and sour that I’ve never been able to place. All I know is that my body reacts to it like he’s holding a gun to my head.
“Have you had any dreams? Flashes? Anything since we started the new treatment?” he probes with sharp words.
“No, Doctor,” I whisper, internally flinching at the mention of the “treatment” I’d been receiving.
Torture would be a better word for it and, if anything, it’s making it harder to remember, though I don’t dare to speak that out loud.
Could I lie and say that I have? Sure. But I’ve learned long before today what happens when I lie to him.
My body breaks out in a cold sweat as he stares me down, his scent burning the inside of my nose.
“We’re going to try one last time to see if we’ve opened the neural pathway. If we still don’t get anywhere then we’re going to have to try something else. We can’t keep you here forever without making progress, you know,” Dr. Stuart replies, shaking his head slightly.
My stomach sinks as my fucked-up instincts react to the slight change in his demeanor. I’ve upset him, and I should be trying to fix it, to do better. But I don’t move or speak in my own defense, fear of further disappointment stilling my tongue.
“Then let’s begin.”
~~Transcript of Omega D. Montgomery – Sound Association Therapy – Session 50~~
Dr. Victor Stuart, guiding Omega D. Montgomery through sound-based association therapy. Follow up to association session the previous evening.
DS: We’re going to go back to the day of the incident. What were you doing?
Omega shows signs of involuntary muscle movements in extremities consistent with previous observations.
OM: I…I went to the store. I was shopping for my pack.
DS: Good. Where were you shopping?
Noting increased muscle movements, photo-reactivity increasing. Volume increase to level two. Omega expresses pain but does not cease communication.
OM: The…grocery store. A chain. A big one. The blue one.
Omega memory consistent with evidence provided by Washington State Police. Additional detail provided from previous session.
DS: Good. What were you buying? Was anyone with you?
Omega displays signs of distress and increased muscle movements of the shoulders, neck, and torso at firm and direct questioning. Volume increased to level three.
OM: I was alone. I would shop alone while the pack did other things.
DS: What other things? Focus, Omega. Think.
Doctor begins application of designation-specific pheromone therapy to reduce Omega distress.
OM: I…work. Or something. It had to be work. It was a weekday.
Noted new detail recall, also consistent with police reports.
DS: Very good, Omega! Do you know which one? Come on; you can do it.
OM: No. I can’t remember.
Conclusion of Phase 1. Commencing Phase 2. Immediate reaction from omega subject. Cessation of involuntary muscle movements and signs of distress. Relaxed physical and mental state achieved.
DS: Anything else you remember, Omega?
OM: I was going to make spaghetti bolognaise. It was Alex’s favorite.
DS: Alex, one of your former bond mates, yes?
Omega gives affirmative head movement.
OM: His Nonna shared her secret recipe with me as a bonding present.
DS: Do you remember her name?
OM: She was always just…Nonna.
DS: Who else was there that night? Who were you making that special recipe for? What were their names?
Omega displays designation specific distress signals.
OM: Alex…Roman…Isaac. M—my alphas. They’re gone. Why are they gone?
DS: There was another alpha there that night. Who was he? Remember, Omega.
Noting use of designation specific persuasion method by Dr. Stuart. Omega increasingly agitated.
OM: I don’t know!
Request for chemical intervention noted.
~~End Of Session~~
A sharp prick of a needle in my neck drags me back toward reality, but I see their frozen faces every time I blink, the fear and pain I wasn’t there to stop. An alpha command echoes in my mind, stronger than any Dr. Stuart used on me, a command that still makes my blood turn to ice.
Never speak my name again. Forget my face. Or you will die. Just like them.
It takes less than thirty seconds for the numb bliss of the meds to kick in, and for once, I’m grateful for it.
Anything to stop the images flying by. There are voices around me, but I don’t care to understand anything they’re saying.
Multiple pairs of hands lift me off the floor and settle me into a wheelchair, my body limp and exhausted.
“It’s almost time for lunch. Bring her out to the dining room. She needs to get more weight on her.”
I know that voice. Claire. The nice nurse. I nod, not sure what I’m agreeing to, but willing to go with it if it gets me away from this place.