Page 183 of Tangled in Knots

I’m resting in a comfortable chair with a laptop in front of me that Duncan is letting me borrow. I can record directly into the computer, and a boom arm allows me to sit my microphone in front of my mouth, without having to strain due to my short stature. Taking a breath, I hit record, using the voice changer to ensure no one will be able to tell who I am.

There’s something liberating about being completely anonymous.

“I’m no one,” I begin, the fidget spinner in my hands silent as I mess with it. “I may be the only one who ever hears this, but that’s okay. There are so many people out there who are sitting in their homes with questions about who they are, or what to do with their lives. There are organizations who will tell you there’s only one way to live your life, however I call bull hockey on that.”

I’m trying not to curse, since it’ll be easier for ROWS to toss out anything I say if I do.

“Omegas are amazing. Our instincts are more than hyper focusing on knit fabrics, scents, and the perfect nest. Those are things that help us feel safe, quiet the noise in our lives, but our instincts also keep us alive,” I say.

“It’s the feeling along the back of your neck when you’re walking that says someone may be following you or dangerous, and it’s not your imagination. Listen to it always.”

“It’s so easy to look for direction from someone else, because the world is so large, but it also limits you. If you want to be a doctor, lawyer, or an astrophysicist, go out and do it,” I say passionately.

“Don’t play it safe. Being an omega is more than waiting for a pack, a scent match, or someone to tell you what to do. It’s more than slick or the embarrassment that comes when you can’t control your body. Embrace yourself, because it’s so much better than numbing yourself to be able to function in society. I’m not here just to talk, though I know it seems like that.”

Stopping the recording for a moment, I think about where I want to go next. I didn’t want to cut myself open with my story, but maybe this will help.

It’s just the microphone and I, no one is watching me as I speak. They certainly won’t psychoanalyze me either.

It’s just me here.

Hitting record again, I take a leap. “The Boogeymen of our world are auctions and kidnappings, sex traffickers and criminals who want to breed or sell us,” I say.

“If your parents are anything like my father, they may say the outside world is too dangerous to live in. While the dangers exist, I also think you should be able to walk out your door and not worry if you’ll come home or not.”

“Unfortunately, that’s not always the case. I was kidnapped from my home, my life blown sky high. The auctions are real, and I was sold at one,” I say. “These people dehumanize you, it’s a business, and it makes you feel as if you’re skin and bones, a piece of meat. Your instincts and needs are used against you, which makes you wonder what’s real. While it would be better to never be in this position, have these memories of touches, screams of the crowd for more, the knowledge of how much alphas think you’re worth, maybe it’ll help someone, somewhere.”

A single tear slides down my cheek as I speak and I don’t bother to push it away. The words are flowing, so the liquid in my eyes will too, it seems.

“Afterwards, it feels as if you’ll never smile again, since everything is so dead inside of you. How could you possibly feel anything else when you’ve been ripped apart so thoroughly?” I whisper.

“There’s no timetable for trauma, sexual or otherwise. Instead, every minute is spent simply surviving, trying to tell yourself the world is better with you in it.”

And then it clicks. I’m surviving and finding things to enjoy in life. I am asurvivor.

Holy shit. A full body shudder comes over me and I gasp.

“I just had a little epiphany,” I admit, sniffling. “When you’re in the slog of life, it’s easy to be really hard on yourself. I’d love to caution you against it, but we all do it. Today, I realized that I’m more than just swimming through from one hard moment to the next, I’m finding experiences that are enjoyable too. There are things I love, and people I’m finding I like too.”

The other ‘l’ words are too big to say right now.

“Before I go, I’ll say one more thing. We are ruled so much by fate and biology, and it feels as if we don’t have a choicesometimes. What if though, we stopped seeing it as something happening to us?” I ask.

“People do really shitty things when their backs are up against the wall. The way that fate tells us we need to have those people in our lives reminds me of a giant bully who refuses to take ‘no’ as a complete sentence. But if we can accept that those people deserve love too, then we can also accept that fate may be right. Maybe they aren’t the best people, but they’re the best people for us. Those awful things that live inside of them are also the ones we respond to in some way. The insanity inside of them speaks to ours as well.”

Well, so much for not cursing. Oh well.

“These are the ramblings of an omega who has had enough, but I hope something spoke to you if you’re listening to this,” I say. “At the end of the day, healing looks like whatever you need it to be. There’s no time clock on it, either. The same goes for how you live your life. No one should be able to control that. Doctor, stripper, or whatever else, get the job that drives you toward your ultimate goal. Until next time, if there is one.”

Clicking the end record button, I gaze blindly at the computer screen as I feel a quiet in my mind that I haven’t felt ever. There’s always been a constant buzzing, and after the auction it was so much worse.

I may have found my own kind of way to trauma dump without destroying others in my path. Biting my lip, I stand brushing off any residual tears.

Duncan and Callum built this room out in the early hours of night while I dozed on the couch. Now, I have to ask them how to upload this. I feel like I need to.

Stepping away from the audio recording setup, I walk the two steps to the door to open it. That’s how small the room is, but I don’t feel claustrophobic here. The space feels secure.

On the floor across from me in the hallway are Callum and Duncan with earphones in their ears as they work on their laptops. I thought they were somewhere more comfortable, but apparently they felt the need to be closer and I appreciate that.

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