Page 108 of Two For the Show
Every time they assaulted me gets laid out in front of the media for the country’s consumption.
The world loves a tragedy.
I’ve seen the true crime documentaries, where an Omega goes missing, and eventually it comes out that their Alpha or Beta murdered them, and everyone wonders how they missed the signs.
Here’s the fucking signs. The signs I ignored. The ones I missed.
My trauma will be reduced to a soundbite, but if it can help one person in a bad situation, I will welcome it.
When I speak about the media coverage of my disappearance, I struggle tohold in my anger.
“And of course, emboldened by the media, who saw them as a caring, romantic, grieving pack, they came after me, tracked me down. They wouldn’t let me disappear. They felt like they owned me, and no one told them any differently. I was constantly referred to as ‘their Omega’. I was not a person. I reduced to my designation, an Omega who needed to be saved by an Alpha. When I was admitted into a hospital with Foresaken Omega Syndrome after months of taking severe suppressants so I wasn’t at risk of going into heat and making myself vulnerable around my abusers, the hospital called Rich. I don’t fault them, of course. He was still my emergency contact. But with documentation of FOS, it was easy to claim that I had been abducted by the very men who sought treatment for me, and that I couldn’t make decisions on my own.”
My chest is heaving, and the press is silent in front of me. I narrow my eyes at them, picking out the faces I saw doing reports about how devastated my so-called pack was, and how much they loved me. Some of them won’t meet my eye, but I find a few who will.
“Are you proud of yourselves?” I ask them, seething. “For giving abusers a platform?”
“How were we to know?” one shouts back at me. He pushes his way through the crowd. He’s a handsome Beta, with pale olive skin and dark hair. “How could we be expected to know they were abusers?”
“Did you know that there are over two million injuries and fifteen hundred deaths from intimate partner violence in the United States every year? ?* Did you not once think to question the story they told? To look any deeper? Why did no one investigate them? We love to jokethat it’s always the Alpha, and yet no one looked into that pack. If they had, they probably would have seen that I had been withdrawing small amounts of cash from our accounts whenever I could. That my suitcases were missing. It should have raised red flags, and yet no one saw anything other than three handsome Alphas who were distraught that they lost their favorite punching bag.”
The whole time I speak, my pack stands sentinel beside me, shoulder to shoulder, one united front.
“But I got better with the help of my pack, my scent matches, the men who you see standing here with me today. The men I bonded willingly and am trying to stay with. Instead, the governor signed an extradition order for the state of California after I performed with their circus. He claims that because of the FOS, I am unable to make my own decisions and need to be returned to my registered pack. What he didn’t say in the order was that his son had promised Dr. Richard Smith would be given the role of Designation Director for the state of Florida in exchange for me.”
I let the words sink into the crowd. It takes a moment, but once they make sense of what I said, their faces start to transform. Their quiet rumbles of dissatisfaction validate me and give me strength for the next part.
“Governor Evans, I know you’re watching this. Were you a part of the attempted trafficking of an Omega, or were you a blind party to the ministrations of your son? You ran on family values. You ran on a platform of protecting Omegas, going so far as to make laws that prohibit Alphas and Betas from entering certain areas under the guise of keeping Omegas safe. Did you know your son and his pack members were raping their Omega? That they were choking and kicking her, breaking hercollarbone, and leaving her covered in bruises? Did you know?”
My voice is hysterical, I know. But I can’t calm down even if I wanted to.
Which I don’t.
“Did you know that I fled for fear of my life, giving up a job as a respected physician? That after years of being isolated from my friends and family, I had nowhere to turn but a troupe of misfits in a traveling circus? A troupe that cared for me and protected me, going as far as to publicly oust and humiliate members of their troupe to keep me safe? Are you going to come out here and admit that you had no idea what your son was doing? Or will you stay silent and confirm your involvement?”
Dexter grabs my hand, pulling it from behind my back and squeezing it tightly as tears spring to my eyes and track down my cheeks.
“Are you going to hold firm to the order that I am incapable of making my own decisions? That having been diagnosed with FOS means that I am unable to think for myself and therefore need an Alpha to do it for me?”
Jude leans forward, pressing against my back. “This is about more than just Alex. This is about the fact that the Designation Director of California told us that he had no choice but to deliver our bonded, scent matched Omega into the hands of her abusers because of the antiquated, bullshit laws being enforced by the current administration. An Omega is seen as incapable of critical thinking and decision making when they are diagnosed with Foresaken Omega Syndrome, reducing them to a dependent of their pack.”
“No one thinks that about an Alpha with Rot,” Quinton says casually, wrapping an arm around my waist. “I would know. No one has told me that I cannot betrusted to act in my own best interests. In fact, there are no laws that require an Alpha with Rot to have so much as a power of attorney in place, despite it being a fatal and debilitating illness. I wonder why that is?”
“Leave me alone,” I say firmly. “Let this be the clip aired across the country. Have this as your soundbite. Leave me the hell alone. Let me be with my pack. The one I chose. The one I love. And do better in the way you treat Omegas. I’ve seen how many are abused and the abysmal support they’re,” my voice cracks, “we’re given. Do. Better.”
As the press starts to shout questions again, the doors open behind me, and several people stride out, all dressed in suits and looking quite serious.
And behind them is Governor Walter Evans, looking fucking pissed.
* J Emerg Med. Author manuscript; available in PMC: 2009 Oct 1.
Published in final edited form as: J Emerg Med. 2007 Oct 25;35(3):329–335. doi: 10.1016/j.jemermed.2007.02.065
* NLM Domestic Violence: https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/books/NBK499891/
Chapter 43
My Omega is so brave.
