Yet as the words come out, echoes of moments whisper inside my head. The reality of being this depressed is that I pushed a lot to the side because I couldn’t handle it. I didn’t have the strength to deal with anything but exist in this world without my daughter.
I heard the term Omega back in the cabin, and I didn’t press them to know the meaning right away, letting Anne whisk me away to her impromptu tour. Just as Jesse is so smell sensitive, I know this sounds insane.
Knowing the truth takes effort, takes energy, and I didn’t have that to give. I feel embarrassed, and I know deep down that if I could ignore her and go back to blissful ignorance, I would. A part of me always wishes to go back to a dark room and cry over my pillow.
“I know you don't, sweetie.” She sighs. “But I don't think I'm the right person to explain that to you.”
From this point high in the township, I have a view of the rest of the houses. I take a moment looking at everything, ignoring her gaze on me as I try to rein in my feelings.
“You're the only one who knows about my pregnancy. That means you're the person who knows me the most here. Can’t you be honest too?”
It's a low blow, and it feels like I’m manipulating her, but I’m being honest here. This woman I just met just learned about the hardest thing I’ve had to do. The thing that makes me hate myself so much that I have to push it aside so that I can get up and face the day. All I want is the truth, and I’m not above begging her for it.
“Please, just tell me.”
The last of her indecision melts off, and she sucks in a breath. “What do you know about your mother?”
That’s not where I thought this was going. I’m confused, but entertain the question anyway.
“I don't know much. She left when I was just a baby. I don't remember her. My grandfather didn't like her, so we never kept pictures on the wall, and he never told me stories about her. All I know is her name.”
Should I feel bad that having just a name to hold in my chest seems to be the theme of my life? Sure. But I don’t let tears drop for my mother. I cried for her too many times before. I’m done now. My tears are reserved for the baby I couldn’t keep.
“I'm sorry. That must be rough.”
“What does she have to do with this whole thing? With Omegas?”
Anne takes a breath and reaches for my hand again. She seems to need the contact more than I do. I brace myself for bad news, as I always do. This woman in the middle of nowhere is about to tell me something is wrong with me. No way all this secrecy is for something good.
In my heart of hearts, I’ve been waiting for that my whole life. I always thought there was a reason I’m always left behind and neverloved enough. Would Omega mean forgettable? Unworthy of love? That would explain a lot.
“Omegas are a little bit different, biologically speaking.We’redifferent from Betas and Alphas. Betas are the people you grew up with. They are not aware of the different designations, and I think that’s why you don’t know about this.”
“And you think I’m an Omega? Biologically different?”
“Oh, I don’t think it, honey.” She nods. “I know it. I can scent it, you’re perfuming, which is very surprising after all you’ve been through. Your hormones are a mess, but there’s no doubt you’re an Omega.”
“Is it bad? Being this thing?” I whisper, prepared to hear the news but scared at the same time.
Instead, Anne laughs, gripping my hand. “Oh God, no. Being an Omega is wonderful. We are the backbone of society.”
My frown softens, though I’m not as comfortable as her being the backbone of any society. My world is falling apart, and I'm trying to keep it together. I can’t take any more responsibilities.
“Do you know why we live here away from everybody?” she asks.
“I assume the three husbands have something to do with it.”
She laughs. “Oh yeah. Well, yes, the packs are a problem. Alphas are bound with their pack mates before they mate with an Omega. I know this might not make sense to you, but it’s all biological. Alpha’s instincts are everything. They need to protect the pack and their Omega. And that’s why the recent years have been so difficult.”
The more she talks, the less it makes sense, but I don’t dare interrupt. “A long time ago, Omegas stopped being born. It happened slowly, and each township was so independent that we didn’t realize it was happening everywhere until it was too late. When there wereno more Omegas to mate with, the packs dissolved and moved away, trying to find life among Betas, but it’s hard. It’s tough on them.”
“If there are no Omegas anymore, why do you think I’m one?”
“I know you are, Veda.” She smiles with certainty.
“Something rare?” I laugh bitterly. “I’m nothing special.”
“I think you are.” Her expression is even. “And it’s not because you’re an Omega. I think you’re special because you’re pretty resilient. You’ve been through a lot, and you’re still so sweet and good. I happen to know the boys think you’re pretty special, too.”
