Page 45 of Two For the Show
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
We stare at each other awkwardly before I push to my feet. “Have you eaten? We should eat before the caravan leaves.”
He shakes his head. “No, I haven’t. But you don’t have to cook for me.”
“Good, because I’m not going to.” I pull a box of marshmallow cereal and two bowls from my cabinet, then grab milk from the fridge. Someone stocked my fridge and pantry while I was on my date with Dario. “Let’s have cereal?”
Things are awkward as we crunch and slurp on the cereal with the incomplete puzzle strewn between us.
I pick up a piece and slot it into its spot. Jude watches and slowly mirrors my movement. As we eat, we place pieces into the puzzle between us without speaking.
What do I say to this man who made it clear from themoment I met him that he doesn’t want me here? Sure, he’s warmed up lately, but that doesn’t erase the fact that he didn’t want me here.
And that I kind of tricked him.
I mean, sure, he never asked, but I’m self-aware enough to recognize that I concealed important information.
We finish our cereal, and before I can gather our bowls and put everything away, he’s on his feet, doing it for me. I excuse myself to the bathroom and stare at myself in the low lighting.
I’m looking healthier than I have in a while, my cheeks rounding out again, and the bags under my eyes almost gone. I feel better, too. I know that the pheromone infusion, which is what I’m calling masturbating with Jude’s cum because otherwise I feel like a creep, combined with my cuddle session with Matteo and Quinton last night, is the reason for that.
For a moment, the woman I was before Rich superimposes on my image in the mirror.
Could I be her again?
As much as I wish I could, I know that won’t be possible.
Abuse changes you.
It warps your sense of self until you barely recognize the person staring at you through the mirror.
Part of you is who you needed to be to please them, to protect yourself, and the other part hates you for it. For capitulating to their demands at all.
Since I left them, the part that wanted to please them has been overtaken by the part that hates me, leaving behind guilt for letting it get that bad.
I should’ve known better. Should have seen the signs.
Isn’t that what they all say?
I guess they isn’t the right term anymore, is it?
Isn’t that what we all say? We blame ourselves for the actions of weak Alphas.
Strong Alphas don’t need to assert their control over an Omega to make them stay. A strong Alpha loves their Omega so fiercely that there is never a thought of leaving.
What does a strong Omega do?
A strong Omega gets out.
A strong Omega takes care of themself.
And if they can’t, they let someone help them do it.
It has taken me an embarrassing amount of time to come to terms with the fact that it’s okay to admit weakness. It’s okay to ask for help.
I don’t even realize I’m crying until my eyes meet Jude’s in the mirror behind me.
