Page 70 of Lights, Camera, Omega

“I’ll get her back to the green room so she can lie down on the couch while we figure out a ride to get her home,” Maxwell calls over his shoulder—Vinny and Ursula trailing behind us.

I don’t want to have to call one of the boys in front of Vinny and Maxwell. In my rising panic, I squirm fitfully in Maxwell’s arms.

“I need to use the bathroom,” I blurt out—my desperate eyes catching Ursula's as I struggle to get free.

Maxwell’s steps hesitate.

“Can you handle walking on your own?” he asks, real concern turning down the corners of his mouth as he eyes me skeptically.

“I’ll help her—-if the lady says she needs the bathroom, then she needs the bathroom!” Ursula pipes up.

Reluctantly, Maxwell sets me down and Ursula helps me hobble into the green room’s dedicated bathroom; my purse and duffle bag full of personal effects still exploded over the small room’s confines.

“Ursula, you’ve gotta help me,” I beg her as soon as we’re behind closed doors.

“Girl, you look like you’re circling the damn drain—what is going on?” Ursula touches my forehead and my cheek with the back of her hand, making disapproving clucking noises with her tongue upon finding that I’m running a raging fever.

“I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. I know that I started courting as a late blooming omega—but my meds have felt totally useless.” I pull my rainbow color coded weekly pill case from where it sticks out of my purse—rattling it in the air angrily before slamming it down on the counter.

“They gave me supplemental suppressants to take in case I hit pheromone/hormone induced peaks before I’m ready to ease into my first heat without them and I hadn’t taken a single one before I started courting.” I wobble unsteadily to the closed toilet, taking a trembling seat.

Ursula leans forward, popping open the compartment for tomorrow’s meds.

“I can’t believe they started tapering your dose down before you figured out when you officially want to have your first heat.” She shakes her head, bewildered.

Even though I feel like I should be keeping my head between my knees to keep from fainting—I sit bolt upright, eyes trained on Ursula.

“What do you mean? I haven’t actually started the taper down yet. My agent got my regular refills without knowing I went to the center to pick up the taper down meds so that I could start them up once I was ready…” I trail off—a numbing horror creeping in my gut.

Ursula’s lips press into a thin line, she reaches into the fanny pack at her hip and plucks a small multi-colored glitter pill case from its confines.

“Daphne, I don’t know how to tell you this… But I think that Vinny gave you the wrong meds.” She pops open one of the compartments of her pill case to show me its contents.

“Wait.” I blink dumbly, doing my best to keep from falling off the toilet seat.

“You’re an omega, too?” My head is swimming, my brain working overtime to avoid addressing the truth of my situation.

“Yeah, I got my designation early–I’ve been on suppressants since I was in junior high,” Ursula explains with dire seriousness, tapping one of the white tablets inside her case.

“See the little ‘200’ on there? That’s the full dose.” She switches hands—shoving my own pill case beneath my nose.

“See how yours look exactly the same and say ‘25’?” She’s practically shaking them in my face now.

“I don’t know if he did it by accident, if the center messed up and gave him the meds you ordered in private—or… if he did it on purpose.” She shakes her head. I don’t need to hear the rest of her dire pronouncement, I know what Ursula is going to tell me—but still, I hold my labored breath.

“These are basically sugar pills for the end of the taper… You’re in peri-heat; you’ll be in the peak of your first heat within the next four to twenty-four hours.”

“Ursula…I need you to use my phone—call Sol and Julian. Their numbers are in my contacts…” I manage to get out before I slump off of the toilet—sliding to the floor in a barely lucid heap.

I slip in and out of intense fever dreams, colors and sounds that I can’t quite place—all of my limbs like jello, my breathing unsteady, my skin feeling too hot and too tight.

The sound of Ursula’s voice as she speaks to a disembodied voice on the other line seems far away and muted—even though part of my brain still knows she’s standing right over me. I can’t tell if the distant thumping I hear is the beat of my own heart or if Vinny and Maxwell have lost patience with my attempt at getting privacy and are now trying to beat down the door.

I’m not sure how much time passes, if it’s been five minutes or five hours, but I have begun to softly shake—my entire body gently quaking as if shivering in extreme cold—even though I feel as if I am burning up when I hear the door open. A man’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Daphne! Daphne! Oh, my god.”

I try to lift my head, to look toward my possible condemnation or salvation—but I’m too weak.

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