Page 3 of One Flew Over the Omega's Nest: Part One
"What's in the other vials, Doc?" I ask, letting my voice show a hint of nervousness. There are two more syringes on the tray next to me, one full of a bright orange liquid, the other filled with a metallic looking, vibrant blue substance.
Dr. Brooks waits for a moment, watching me intently, before motioning to the orderly who comes over and unlocks my handcuffs. The orderly's stale leather scent is highly offensive to my omega senses, butI do my best not to wrinkle my nose, instead focusing on the feeling of the medication spreading through me.
It's strange, I don't feel any different than I did a minute ago, but the doc must be satisfied with my demeanor because he gives me a satisfied smile as he watches.
"Why thank you, sir." I smile as I massage my wrists. The orderly only grunts, his lip tilted up in a sneer before he positions himself back at the wall.
"I have to say, Ms. Harding, for someone who has the murder of thirteen alphas on their hands…you're much more amenable than I had thought you'd be," Dr. Brooks observes. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he was…kind.
But…I do know better.
"Every single one of those alphas deserved to die, Doc." I smile sweetly.
"Including your father?" He hedges, clearly fascinated by my lack of remorse. Oh, goodie. We have Doc Nelson 2.0.
"Especially myfather." The word is acid on my tongue, and for a split second, my mask cracks.
But then it's back, and I give him a blinding smile, my voice saccharine. "Unless you believe that abusers and rapists should run free?"
Something flashes across Dr. Brooks' expression briefly, and I absently wonder which of the two he's guilty of. "Of course not," he says quickly, then motions to the metal tray the nurse brought in. "To answer your earlier question…well, the vials are a choice. Here at Thornfield, we like to…let nature run its course without those pesky instincts getting in the way. Our scientists research the link between crime rates and alpha and omega instincts. This is a new drug we're developing to…tamp them down. For alphas, it takes away their possessive urges, keeps fights from breaking out over dominance levels, and renders their bark null and void—which, as an omega, I’m sure you can appreciate.” I grimace. I have too many memories of Daddy barking at me to “stay the fuck still” so he could properly deliver my beating.
Either Dr. Brooks doesn’t notice my expression or he doesn’t care, because he just keeps right on talking. “For omegas, we create a sort of cocktail that will suppress heats and your scent. Everyone has a job, like helping in the kitchens or cleaning the bathrooms, but when you're not doing that you'll be able to participate in therapy, go to our movie nights, read in the library, and essentially have as much of a fulfilling life as you can."
My brow furrows. This…this does not sound like a place where the "worst of the worst" go.
"The other option?" I ask, the waver in my voice not entirely fabricated.
"If you deny the first option, we'll have no choice but to keep you in a more…pliable state…permanently. You'll be kept with the rest of the…patients who are deemed too dangerous to roam with the rest of them."
Pliable. So…what he means is “catatonic”.
A harsh laugh leaves me, and I earn myself disturbed looks from Doc, the orderly, and the nurse. "Am I missin' somethin' here? This is Thornfield Asylum for the Criminally Insane. I killed thirteen men in cold blood, and you're going to…what? Let me roam free? Let me go watch a rom-com with Jerry who probably murdered just as many people as me?"
It's too good to be true.
"Ah, I see why you're confused." Dr. Brooks, says in that voice that might seem kind to anyone else. "We're not Thornfield Asylum for the Criminally Insane anymore. Well, we are, to the outside world,and for the people who choose the second option. But for everyone that chooses the better way? We're just Thornfield. Around thirty years ago, the great-grandson of our founder, Isaac Thornfield, felt that there had to be a better way to run things than having everyone walking around like zombies all the time. And he was right. You'll see for yourself, if you pick the correct option. You’ll actually find that you’ll be afforded many more freedoms than you had in the last…" he checks something in the file he’s holding, “five facilities you’ve been in. You’ve been quite the little troublemaker, haven’t you, Jo? I can assure you, our staff are more than equipped to…handle someone like you. You won’t be transferring any time soon, so you may as well play by the rules and reap the rewards.”
My throat is dry as I swallow. "So…we become guinea pigs, and in exchange…we get to walk around with our wits about us?"
"Make no mistake, Ms. Harding, if you murder a single person in this building, you'll have the choice taken from you and get put in with the rest of the criminally insane. But…as long as you attend the mandated psych sessions to evaluate your progress on the drug and do your part to help the community flourish, then yes."
Thecommunity? What kind of self-righteous, culty bullshit is that?
Either way I'm gonna have to have drugs injected into me. I knew that going in, but really, having the scientists of this joint doing some weird kumbaya experiment works in my favor.
The choice is easy.
"What if it's in self-defense?" I ask, frowning. It won't affect my decision, but I need to know just how strict they're going to be with me.
Dr. Brooks frowns right back. "If you have to kill someone in self-defense? Jo, I assure you, it won't come to that. We haven't had a life-threatening violence situation in just under thirty years."
Huh. About the same time they switched up their programming.
"I suppose I'll have to do my part for the community then." I smile, holding my arm out, and the doctor gets a sick smile on his face.
"I knew you'd make the right choice, Josephine—Jo." He quickly corrects himself and I have to give the fucker one thing, he knows how to not step on any toes. With that, the nurse grabs my arm with gentle hands and takes the syringe with the metallic looking liquid before sliding the needle into my arm. A chill spills through my veins and up to my shoulder, but it's not uncomfortable.
"You'll feel a cold sensation at first as the medication disperses into your blood stream," the nurse says kindly, her deep brown eyes shining with empathy. "Then in about three minutes, you'll start to feel the effects, including an extreme decrease of sensitivity in your olfactory receptors."
