Prologue #4
“Perfect,” she says, picking up a crocheted blanket.
“These are weighted and should help you sleep. Everyone receives their own room here, which means you’ll have your own space.
There’s everything you could ever need here, but I’ll let Aisling give you the full tour.
Here is a bag of items to get you started, and when you’re up to it, you’re welcome to come find items from our clothes closet.
These are all new, donated items that you can take with you.
It’s hard to start over, the least we can do is help you feel safe. ”
I nod and give her a small thank you because I genuinely appreciate all of this, but I’m not sure there is anything that’s going to make me feel that way.
After the past few days, I might never feel safe again.
Two months later
Lifting my eyes from my sketchbook, I can barely hide my smile as a little red rubber ball comes bouncing into my room, quickly followed by a bouncy little boy with bright blue eyes and a head full of curls.
“Hey, little dude.”
Benji gives me a shy smile as he stops in my doorway and murmurs, “I oopsily lost my ball.”
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “You know you can come in and get your ball.”
He does, albeit hesitantly considering this has been a regular occurrence since shortly after I got here and as usual, he stops at the foot of my bed and cranes his neck to see what I’m drawing.
It took two weeks for this adorable little two year old to break down my walls. Just two, and I’ve been a pushover for him ever since.
“It’s a cow.” I set my pencil down and lift the page so he can see the black and white dairy cow I was sketching in anticipation of his visit. “Do you know what a cow says?”
“Tell me, O,” he says, chewing on his bottom lip.
“I will if you stop torturing your lip,” I tease, pulling his lip out from between his lip. “It starts with mu and ends with…”
“Ooo!” he cries out with a giggle.
Those giggles are fucking everything these days. Everything feels like it’s painted in shades of grays, except when he comes by. Benji is the shot of color I never thought I’d see again.
“More moo please?”
Last week he had me drawing sea animals.
Before that it was cats. Any kind of feline I could think of made him happy, which was great because I could only draw so many domestic ones before we both got bored.
This week it’s been farm animals.
He has a pig, a chicken, a horse and a duck in his room already, and today Benji gets a dairy cow. I’ll find out what my next commission is as soon as he feels comfortable talking to me.
Normally, he is after a few minutes of one-sided conversation about my sketches, but I think that’s part of why he and I clicked.
He has to feel people out before he decides how to handle them. He might only be a toddler but I think this kid is an old soul, one wiser than most adults I met before coming here.
Benji doesn’t let just anyone into his bubble and I respect the hell out of him for it.
I’m the same way.
I don’t even talk to his mom, Meghan, as much as I talk to him, and I like her for the most part. I like her as much as I’ve allowed myself to like anyone here, anyway.
“Well, does this get your stamp of approval?” I tear the page out and hand it to him, the little boy now in front of me after inching his way along the bed frame. “Good enough to go up with the others?”
Benji tilts his head and furrows his brow, analyzing my artwork like a bonafide critic for a few seconds before he looks up at me with a big grin. “Yep.”
“Whew,” I say as I wipe the imaginary sweat from my brow. “I wasn’t sure it was going to pass the test.”
“Duh, O.”
I snort at both his attitude and nickname for me. “Sorry, sorry. Just trying to keep my one and only fan happy.”
He practically rolls his eyes as he starts folding the drawing then proceeds to stuff it down the back of his pants.
This kid cracks me up.
“Sorry, what’ll…” I wince as my stomach pitches then hold my breath as a cramp takes over my entire lower half.
That keeps happening.
I’ve been cramping off and on, breaking out into cold sweats, I’m exhausted and I haven’t been able to eat all day without feeling like I’m on the cusp of needing an exorcism.
It’s no mystery what’s happening, I knew I’d go into heat sooner or later, but it’s a little early.
Too early since I’m not actually prepared for navigating this without my pack.
Alas, here we are. I’m heartbroken and devastated, and in a place I still haven’t entirely acclimated to.
This cycle is going to be a bitch, I’m sure. One I anticipate a lot of crying over.
“O, okay?”
With a nod, I force a smile through the next cramp and try to act like I don’t feel like I’m dying. “I’m okay, dude. Just got a little tummy ache.”
“You gotta poop?”
I blink at the little guy for a few seconds before I snort. “Maybe. I guess that could be it.”
“Prolly.” Benji nods like he just diagnosed me with 100% accuracy. “Mommy says I gotta poop when my belly hurts and that I should rest my belly on the potty. You should try that.”
“She is a wise woman.” And this is one smart kid. I can’t get over the conversations we have once he warms up to me. “So, what’ll I draw next? A turkey? Maybe a donkey?”
“A boogar.”
“What?”
He nods again, looking at me like I’m an idiot for asking that. “A boo-ggah-err.”
“Okay…” I arch a brow. He cannot be seriously telling me to draw him a booger. Snot. The green crap that comes out of your nose. There’s no way. “If I were to draw you a booger, how would I start?”
“With a plate.”
“What else?” I ask before trying to breathe through another cramp.
“Flies.” Benji grins. “And ketchup.”
Which is when the lightbulb finally turns on in my brain. “Oh, you want me to draw you a burger.”
“Duh, O. Don’t be silly goosing me.”
This kid is awesome.
“You got it,” I say as I start sketching out a cheeseburger. “Burger and fries for you tomorrow, okay?”
Benji smiles but it falls as soon as I drop my sketchpad in favor of clutching my stomach. “O?”
“I’m okay, bud.” I wave him off as I stagger to my feet. “I just have to poop really bad now.”
“Ew, das gross.” He takes one step toward me then stops, thinking to himself in a way I can actually see happen. “I go get Mommy. She’ll help you poop.”
Before I can even attempt to protest, I double over in pain, grabbing the blankets on my bed and squeezing right down to the mattress.
I don’t want this.
I knew it was going to happen but I do not want to go into heat without my mates. I refuse. I’m rejecting the idea of going into heat, and I will do so every single time it tries to happen.
I’m going to will this shit to stop, then I’m going to will it right out of existence.
Fuck going into heat after the people you love die.
My ability to do so should have died with them because there’s no fucking way I’m doing this without them. I don’t need to have a baby either, thanks. Not without those three. So all of this is pointless and needs to stop immediately.
Clutching my stomach, I push myself upright then move to the closet and grab a clean change of clothes and towels, reaching for both with a wince that almost takes me down to my knees in my nest. I’ll just shower this shit off.
It should help the cramps, anyway. Then I’ll come back in here, bury myself in my shitty nest I made out of pure anxiety-driven need, then hopefully die from the pain of an unmedicated, unassisted heat.
That sounds like a great plan.
“Olive, Benji says you’re not feeling well…” Meghan says, knocking on the door as she pokes her head in while holding her son’s hand.
“I’m… fine,” I gasp, clearly lying my ass off as my fingers dig into my stomach.
“You do not look fine,” she says with narrowed eyes. While I’ve noticed that Meghan is soft spoken, she clearly has a spine of steel. “Can I help or get someone for you?”
“No.” I breathe in through my nose and out through my mouth as my vision darkens at the corners while I force myself to take a step forward. Maybe it’s not a good idea that I’m about to shower. Is it possible to drown if I pass out in there?
Is it wrong for me to hope that happens?
I know my pack died for me, but I wish more and more that I had been killed as well.
I don’t know what to do or how to be anymore, it’s like I’ve forgotten how to function.
I wish so badly that things could be different.
Wishes in one hand and shit in the other still amount to the same thing: a whole lot of nothing.
“I just need some space, Meghan,” I groan, scooting around her as I stumble to the community showers. While there’s a private bathroom with a shower on the other side of the compound, I’m not going to make it that far. I’ll be lucky if I make it down the hall.
Benji definitely inherited his stubborn streak from his mother I’m finding.
I know he went to get her because he was worried and not about to take no for an answer, and if this were any other time, I’d appreciate it.
However, I’m hanging on by a thread. I’m horrified that I’m slicking and that my stomach is cramping.
It should be anathema for the universe to do this to me.
It just shows that the world doesn’t care about your problems. Slick and heats seem to be as inevitable as the sun rising and falling every day.
I’m vaguely aware of Meghan whispering something to her son before she quickly stalks down the hallway after me.
But I ignore her, as well as the stares I’m getting from other residents, and everything else.
All I want is to let hot water run over me so it’ll wash away what feels like a betrayal to my mates.
If I had my way, I’d never have a heat again.
“Don’t you walk away from me,” Meghan growls. This would almost be comical if it weren’t so damn sad. Her attitude is adorably scary.