With a sniff, I found the last bit of energy I had left in me, which wasn’t much of anything, to push myself away from his front. He was here for a fix, and I was to give him the release he was after.
Wiping the tears from my face with both hands, I took in one last breath before settling back into my greeting stance. Maybe if I could get back to that headspace, the next little while wouldn’t be so bad. Being in a place mentally where I could shut off the rest of the world wasn’t the greatest place to go, but it’s all I ever had.
In reality, all I wanted to do was go back to my room and sleep, hidden under a pile of blankets. I didn’t want anything to touch me. I didn’t want anyone asking questions, or anything of attention sort from me.
“Do you still want the boy?” A male voice asked. He didn’t seem impressed, but he did not care about Omega’s feelings anyway. He never was when he’d have to be called to escort me out of this very room more than once. Trace’s job was to make sure I behaved, and to escort me out if I was unable to walk on my own.
I made sure to keep my two feet under me if I could help it. I hated how his hands sometimes lingered in places that he didn’t pay for.
“Yes. I’ve already signed the forms.” The Alpha stated a reminder that he knew the rules here. No matter what, my body was purchased for his time.
I heard more than I saw as he stood and wiped his palms along his thighs.
“Very well. I’ll send someone to collect a change of clothes for the Omega.”
“No need. I’ll get whatever I want him to wear myself.” The words were spoken a bit rushed, causing me to jerk.
I didn’t want to think what that statement meant. It could mean so many things, and my head already hurt. As did my entire being for that matter.
“Of course, Alpha Harris. Whatever you wish for the Omega.”
“Stand, boy.”
Unlike the first time he told me to stand, it took my body a few extra seconds to get my feet under me. When I stood, I swayed, nearly falling backward as my head swam.
Thankfully, I got my balance sorted before Alpha Harris had to help me yet again.
I had never been more pathetic in my entire life.
The next moments blurred at the edges. Sound dulled. Light flattened. My mind slipped into autopilot. I’d been here before. I knew the steps.
Not a house. Not a name. Just hours. Just hands.
My body remembered more than I wanted it to. The ache. The silence. The way everything inside me went still.
I didn’t feel fear. Not exactly. Just the echo of it, like a scream trapped behind glass.
I couldn’t remember his name, nor did I want to. But I’d never be able to forget the stench of stale beer on his breath or the way his clothes smelled like bleach. I think he wore a clean, unwrinkled button-down shirt with a black work jacket over the top, but those small details weren’t as clear nearly two years later.
From the start to the finish of the entire transaction, the man’s callused hands had been rough on my body. The way he’d gripped my upper arm as he signed the forms that claimed he was to care for me as if I were his for the rest of our lives had left indents for days.
My throat constricted as the renter tugged me forward, his grip firm but not rushed—like he knew I wouldn’t resist. I didn’t need to be dragged. I knew the rules.
Walk quietly. Obey quickly. Be the perfect Omega.
So I followed, feet barely brushing the floor, each step rehearsed in silence. The hallway blurred around me, sterile and dim, like it had forgotten how to feel.
The car ride was worse.
He didn’t speak. Just breathed—loud, labored, obscene. I heard the zipper before I saw his hand. I didn’t look. I couldn’t. My gaze stayed locked on my lap, where my fingers pressed into each other so tightly they ached.
It didn’t matter where we were going. It didn’t matter what he’d do when we got there. I already knew the shape of the next twenty-four hours. I’d be used. Repeatedly. Quietly.
Because I wasn’t a person. I was a product.
And products don’t cry.
I don’t remember the house. Not the walls, not the furniture, not the color of the sheets. I couldn’t tell you if it was a mansion or a shack. My mind refused to keep it.
