Chapter 7 #2
“Okay…” I growl, scrubbing the fuck out of the tub.
“No STIs, no pregnancy for Winter, but their levels of iron, vitamin D, and B12 are all very low,” he continues.
“I’m going to suggest food supplements to help them gain weight, light exercise for muscle atrophy, and vitamins.
I also found an influx of hormones in their blood.
I wouldn’t be surprised if someone gave Winter birth control and both of them something to suppress their heats.
I have a lot of questions still, Ansel. It’s just going to be a long haul to get Bellamy and Winter to full strength. ”
“We knew that,” I remind him. “You’re not really telling me anything new, outside of the pregnancy, STI results, and an unknown in their blood that I will not hyperfixate on.”
“I know, I know. I do think they should talk to someone about the things they’ve gone through. You’re looking at nightmares, trauma, all kinds of things you’re not equipped to handle,” Riley says.
“How do you get people to talk who don’t feel safe enough to do that?
” I ask him, keeping my voice down. “You know as well as I do that people who have been through trauma keep themselves small and quiet when bad shit is happening. So when do you convince yourself no one is going to hurt you anymore while you’re waiting for the other shoe to drop? ”
Cassidy and Shiloh grew up with silver spoons in their mouths, but I didn’t. Shi is still a very controlled psychotic alpha due to his upbringing because his dad was a piece of shit he put down when he was twelve. That was his first kill, but not the last.
On the other hand, I grew up poor with a mother who was a drug addict, so a little puke isn’t going to scare me off. I learned to get as strong as possible so she couldn’t sell me off for her next fix, and then I ran away from home.
Just because you’re rich, doesn’t mean life is all sunshine and rainbows. I’m not going to point this out to Riley, since that’s picking at scabs I shouldn’t. Nina’s life looked perfect, yet her mother was silently killing her soul.
Everyone’s life is very different behind closed doors, no matter how privileged or not you are.
“That’s very valid, Ansel,” Riley grunts. “I’m just concerned. Two omegas coming off heavy drug use and sexual abuse… I don’t want to leave you all to flounder, okay? Jumping into a therapist might not be the right call, but I want to keep that door open.”
“Consider it open,” I grunt, standing and rinsing off the tub before moving to the toilet. I’m going to need to clean the tile as well. Winter didn’t make it to the porcelain god the first time. “So you’re coming over?”
“Yes. I’ll be there in a half hour,” he says, trying to sound calm.
Yeah, this is definitely triggering Riley.
“See you then,” I reply, hanging up to finish what I’m doing.
I can’t wait to get on the other side of this so I can get to know Winter and Bellamy better. Fuck. Scent matches.
Things are moving so quickly, it’s still going to smack me between the eyes for a while as I get used to the idea.
BELLAMY
I haven’t had a heat yet, but being in the middle of withdrawals and detox fucking sucks. My skin is clammy, I have a fever, and time is moving oddly.
There’s nothing else left in my stomach, but it’s still pitching and heaving as if I’m on a boat, despite the medication someone called Riley put in my IV.
“Are you sure there’s not poison in here?” I complain, holding onto Winter’s hand tightly. Her head is on my shoulder, and her IV is in her other arm.
Paranoia is definitely running high.
“Shhh, Bell,” whispers through my mind, but I simply whine at Winter’s words.
“Don’t do that,” I groan. “I already feel crazy.”
She hums under her breath, but shuts her eyes tightly as her body continues to shiver. I feel the same icy chill she does because of our feedback loop from the bond, yet there’s nothing I can do to help her. Sometimes, I can push memories of heat toward her.
That’s not going to cut it now. Everything feels too big, hurts too much, and now there are alphas who come in and out of the room to check on us.
I know they’re supposed to be mine. I do. I just don’t know what the fuck to do about it. The only person I feel any connection to is Cassidy, and I can’t explain that.
I initially didn’t want to go to her when Winter and I were carried into that room back at the center.
We were going to refuse for as long as possible.
The drugs forced us to do things we didn’t want to do, and then my asshole was sore when we were thrown back into the cage for reasons I couldn’t remember.
The days where Bret would parade us around seem so far away. I’d almost rather have sex with Winter on command, but even that was only until Bret could find the highest bidders for our forced heat.
Either way you slice it, rape is rape. I’d continually tell Winter to focus on me, pretend it was just us, but I know our performances weren’t consensual at Slick Dreams either.
Now, every time I close my eyes, the memories overwhelm me, making it difficult not to hate myself.
Mrs. Beshmal at The Hug Project was a grade A bitch, caning my feet whenever I encouraged Winter not to do what she said.
That’s why I can’t walk, and Winter was simply too weak to.
I’ll go through that as many times over as necessary so I won’t have to watch Winter cry as alphas knot her against her will under the influence of those drugs.
Whimpering as my eyes close and I fall into a fitful sleep, I remember every group sex activity where I was told I’d be separated and sold if I didn’t play the willing fuck toy. Yet, I still managed to spit in the face of my handlers, because I’d be damned if I’d make it easy for them.
Inevitably, the drugs made Winter and I want to be touched and fucked, and that’s what drowns me in shame. We couldn’t resist. Mrs. Beshmal called me a whore every time I was back in the cage with Winter.
Names aren’t something I’m concerned with. Things kept getting worse until they took Winter alone into the “private” rooms, and she came back in a state of shock and misery.
Together, we can conquer the world, but alone? I fucking hate not being with her. Worse yet, I felt what she went through, and Winter knew it while I held her as she cried.
The day we met Cassidy, I was done. Winter and I were going to goad our owner into selling us by refusing to work.
Winter couldn’t resist Cassidy, and I’m glad for it. As scary as it is to be in a new place, at least rape is off the table. God, what is my fucking life?
“You’re okay,” Cassidy whispers, pressing a cold wash rag to my forehead.
Moaning, I pull myself from the haze of shitty sleep and reality and blink up at her.
“You’re so strong,” she murmurs. “I’m sorry it hurts so much.”
“It’s not the worst thing,” I reply without thought.
It feels as if I’m dying, but it’s better than The Hug Project, Slick Dreams, and Clara. God, why do such awful people exist in the world?
“Just because it’s not the worst thing to happen, doesn’t lessen how it feels now,” she says. “Riley says it may be a couple more days of withdrawal. After that, you’ll be terrible to live with, and cranky. Can we fast forward to when you’re adorable gremlins who hate everything?”
My lips twitch in amusement, and I try to remember the last time I was allowed to just be grumpy without punishment, finding I can’t.
Months of bad shit happening have a way of overwriting the good or even normal.
“That would be nice,” I murmur.
“Does anything else hurt?” she asks.
I can feel Winter asleep beside me, her deep breaths calming.
“My feet are a little torn up,” I confess. “They’ll heal. Is Mrs. Beshmal dead?”
“As a doornail,” Abbott says from the doorway. “When you’re better, would you like to help us kill everyone else who’s ever hurt you?”
“Like a list?” I ask, kind of amused by the idea of a Murder List.
“Yes,” Cassidy says, playing with my hair. “I’ll get something for your feet. If you tell us what they did, I can make sure to draw out the kill. Ansel likes to strangle people with their own intestines to really fuck with them.”
“Sounds like a cool party trick,” I mumble sleepily.
“It does the job,” Abbott says. “What do you think?”
“I want people to hurt,” I sigh, meaning it. “I’m tired of being the victim.”
“You can come play with us or not. You’ll never be a victim again,” Cassidy says, her touch making my eyes shut. “We aren’t going anywhere, Lovey. I’ll see what I can do to keep the nightmares away.”
Believing her, I let myself drift away. While there are still nightmares, I also dream of Cassidy and Abbott murdering those who have hurt me.