Page 122 of Hard Knot

Someone calls my name, the sound distant and distorted like I'm underwater.

I press my palms against the expensive tiles, seeking their cold surface as an anchor against the burning that consumes me from the inside out.

"No," I choke out, the word torn from my throat. "No, no, no..."

I won't go through this again.

Won't let the heat take me.

Won't be that helpless Omega they made me into.

"I don't need it!" The words echo off the shower walls, mixing with the pounding water. "Don't need a fucking heat! Don't need to feel this. This NEED to fuck! To please!"

My voice rises with each word, hysteria creeping in at the edges.

"I can get whatever I want!"

Punch.

"Whoever I want!"

Punch.

“I’m in charge! I’m always in charge!”

I’m punching the tiles as if they’ll be the final barrier to my constant misery. I don’t care if it leaves me bruised or bloody. I’m tired of fighting against all these walls.

So fucking tired of it all.

Where’s my peace?

Where’s the serenity of being something that’s supposed to be praised and appreciated by the men who cherish her existence?

No one cherishes me.

If I disappeared today, it wouldn’t matter.

Never mattered.

"I don't need this Omega trait that RUINED me!" I scream because that’s the truth of it all. The truth I bury with anything that will push away the immense regret I carry for being born this way. “Took my innocence that I was saving for him! Took all the joy and left me with nothing but fear and pain!”

Blood mingles with water, running pink down the drain, but the pain has to keep me sane.

The pain IS the only thing left that can help me remain in this pitiful world.

I say that over and over again…

But how long can I keep doing this?

How long does this cycle have to repeat before death finally steals what breath I have left?

I bang and plead, not even sure what I’m speaking or what language I’m even saying. Those men who spoke German and mocked me wholeheartedly, taking turns deflowering me, petal by petal, ripping every bit of me away until I was bare and broken.

I despised the language since.

As if it was the cause of the fall.

But I needed something to direct my anger towards.

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