Vomit burns my nose as I turn my head to the side. Again. Bile trickles down the side of my face, running into my hair. Max rushes over to me but he doesn’t touch me. He knows I won’t let him.
It’s been like this for two days. Dr. Morgan -Max- tells me that my body is experiencing withdrawal from the amount of medication I’ve been given over the last ten months.
I don’t know why he’s bothering.
“Why?” I whisper. He turns from placing the bowl into the sink, his brows drawing down over his face.
“Why, what?” he asks just as quietly, moving up and taking a seat next to me. He holds up a wet cloth, and I shake my head, not wanting him that close to my face. He places it to the side with a sad smile, but he doesn’t push.
“Why are you making me go through this? The withdrawal?”
He holds my gaze. “If they give you any more narcotics, it’s very likely that your heart will stop.”
I feel a spark of hope in my chest, and his eyes sharpen on mine.
“Let them, Doc,” I murmur. “You should just let them.”
I know why he won’t, though.
I purposefully avoid looking down at the bed. I can’t look.
Looking makes it real. Looking means acknowledging what happened to me, and I can’t do that right now.
Avoidance, thy name is Ava.
“Ava,” Max says softly. “I know—”
“No, you don’t,” I retort. “You don’t know anything, Doc.”
I pull at the restraints locking my wrists and ankles to this god-forsaken metal bed.
“They have taken, and taken, and taken. And I have nothing left to give them. But they’re going to try anyway.”
He shakes his head at me and opens his mouth to argue.
“Stone already told me what’s going to happen, Doc.”
I won’t call that man father. Never again. The alpha who walks in and out of my room, ignoring me unless it’s to tell me how my body will be used, is not my father. He came to visit me this morning. Three minutes while Max was out getting food. He doesn’t leave me unless he can help it.
Stone noticed that too.
* * *
“864.”
My body freezes, an instinctive flinch making my restraints jingle against the bars of the trolley as the scent of sulphur and oil invades my nose.
I keep my eyes on the ceiling as he moves to stand next to me. Nausea creeps up my throat as he inspects me like a prized cow. A cold hand cups my stomach and a small noise escapes me. My vision blurs.
“Such a disappointment, 864,” he murmurs. “You’ve been no end of trouble. But thankfully, this situation will be dealt with shortly.”
I stay quiet, knowing better than to push any of the creed laws around this alpha. Don’t speak. Don’t make eye contact.
His hand rubs over my stomach as he speaks, and I battle not to show my revulsion.
“You’re well enough to be moved. Tomorrow, you’ll be transferred back to the estate until we’re able to remove the children. You’ll be returned to the nests after that. We’ll see if we can get any more use out of you.”
My breath stutters, stopping, the pain in my chest piercing. They’re sending me back.
