Page 15 of Pack Rivals: Part Two
“Please do not interfere with the equipment,” the doctor says, gaze flicking to the door.
“Why not it’s my body and–”
“We are here to take care of you,” she says quickly, then sprints to the door before I can say more. “If you need anything, there’s a buzzer.” The door locks with a loud thud behind her.
I stare at the door for several minutes, my heart racing.
What is going on?
My head pounds, my belly aches and my skin is on fire. I’m struggling to understand if I interpreted those encounters correctly. Did I imagine the first doctor, his hostility and his threats? And as for Dr. Hannah …
I don’t think I misinterpreted anything.
This place makes my skin crawl.
It’s bare and cold and smells all wrong.
I’ve seen the photos of omega nests. I have a pile of cushions and comforters waiting in our apartment – things my aunt ordered for me in preparation of a forthcoming heat. They seem like heaven right now. All I want to do is curl up among the layer of softness and be …
I gulp.
Rutted? Knotted? Fucked until I can barely stand?
A whimper escapes my throat.
Yes, all those things.
None of which are possible in this clinic.
If it was a real one. A legit one. Surely it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable. Surely I’d be drowning in layers of cushions and mattresses.
Surely, they wouldn’t be pumping blood out of my arm.
Something is seriously fishy about this place and everything in my body screams at me to get the hell out.
I peer down at the catheter in my arm and then back towards the locked door.
I was a prisoner – an unwitting one – all those years living with Karl.
No way in hell I’m being one again. Not without a fight anyway.
Gritting my teeth and closing my eyes, I grip the tube in my arm between my fingers and yank it from my arm.
The pain is so intense for a moment my vision whites and my hearing blares noise. My head swims and I force air down into my lungs, willing myself not to faint.
Spots dance across my eyes when I open them, but at least I’m still with it. A trail of blood runs down my arm and I lift the crook of my elbow to my mouth and suck on the wound hoping that will help stem the bleeding.
One problem solved. Now the next. The door. A much bigger problem.
I hobble as best I can to the doorway, pausing once to hunch over and force my head between my knees, waiting for the dizziness to pass.
When I reach the door, I find it bolted as predicted. I give it a rattle for good measure anyway. Even if I had a hair grip, I wouldn’t know how to pick the lock besides which it seems electronic.
I stare around the room, searching for some tool that might help me.
There’s only the bed with the unbuckled restraints, the blood, the tube and the trolley.
My shoulders slump. I’m stuck here. Stuck here while they will do god knows what to me.
