Page 5 of One Flew Over the Omega's Nest: Part One
Bile burns the back of my throat, "If you lay a finger on me, you'll be so embarrassed about what I'd do to you, you wouldn't dream of ratting me out."
He only chuckles, a brash, evil sound, as he backs away, leaning against the wall of the hallway. After what feels like hours, but is probably only a few minutes, footsteps round the corner, and a heavily pregnant beta approaches, wearing a pair of gray scrubs.
"Hi! You must be Josephine—" This lady is lucky I would never harm a pregnant woman.
"It's Jo," I swiftly correct her.
"Jo." She smiles, looping an arm through mine and guiding me around the corner without a second glance at Banesworth. "I have a feeling we're going to be great friends."
two
Jo
As soon as we get around the corner, Adela breathes a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry," she sags against the nearby wall, "that guy gives me the creeps. I just need a second to get my breathing under control."
"I don't blame you," I mutter, watching the cute beta calm herself. A moment later, she pushes off the wall, and I fall into step beside her. "Do you work here?"
"Oh," Adela shakes her head, her cheeks turning pinker than strawberry as she glances down at her scrubs. She cradles her belly, "No. The jumpsuits…well, they don't fit my baby belly too well."
The hallway we're in doesn't look like it'd be in the building I saw online when I was looking into this place. The linoleum tiles are shiny, the bright white walls almost hurt my eyes. When I typed in my web browser, "Thornfield Asylum for the Criminally Insane", it brought up pictures of gothic architecture, almost like a cathedral. This…this is nothing like that.
"How far along are you?" I can't help the softness in my voice. She's carrying a damn baby in this hellhole.
"Oh, about…thirty weeks." She gives me a weak smile.
Thirty weeks. Only ten more and she'd have the baby. What will they do? Will they take the baby away? Will she have to raise it here?
I'm not sure which option is worse.
Before I can carry on my line of questioning, we come upon a set of double doors that open automatically and lead to a large courtyard. Jaw dropping, I look up.
Well, I'll be.That'smore like it.
The towering gothic castle looms over us like the grim reaper, but I quickly school my features, trying hard to seem unimpressed by the whole thing.
“What buildin’ is that?” I ask, feigning mild curiosity. “I bet that stained glass looks interestin’ from the inside.”
Adela shivers, shaking her head. “You don’t want to find out.”
Frowning, I tilt my head, unable to stop staring at the stained glass image of a small woman on her knees, three alphas standing as they surround her. It’s all blue and golden hues—almost heavenly. At least—that’s half the picture. The image is split right down the middle, a line cutting through the woman’s body with the other half showing her standing, the alphas on this side of the image cowering at her feet. The colors are red and black, and it doesn’t take someone with an art degree to figure out exactly what the images are trying to convey.
This place is not kind to omegas.
“Why not?” I wonder if this is some kind of cult-building.
“That’s where…” she shivers, rubbing a hand over her belly, “they take you if you can’t adjust to the…’community’ way of life here. Keep you drugged up so you can’t cause any more trouble.”
Ah. So that’s Zombieland.
It’s almost obvious now, the way there’s absolutely not a single soul dwelling in the space by the large double doors of the building. Almost like they’re afraid a close proximity will make orderlies jump out and drag them inside.
“Don’t go in the creepy cult-lookin’ buildin’. Got it.” I nod, silently thanking the gods above that I got a tour guide as good as Adela.
"It's almost lunch time," Adela says to me, leading us through the different groups of people in the courtyard. "And then after you'll have your meeting with the facility director, Ms. Leslie Perez. She's really nice. Andthenyou have your psych appointment with Dr. Monroe…" I can't help but notice that I’m the only one wearing a purple jumpsuit. Everyone else is either wearing orange or a dark gray color. Every head turns to stare as we pass, narrowed eyes and blatant stares raking over me.
"I'm gatherin' y'all don't get newcomers very often?" I ask, raising a brow. Adela gives me a sheepish grin.
"Not too often, at least…not one with a record like yours." Her cheeks flame red as she says the words. "Not that…I mean—"
