Page 8 of Dream Girl
“3.1415926535,” I whispered, eyes closing. “8979323846.”
“Are you all right?” Detective Lawson asked.
“You’re placing me on a 5150?” I took another breath and muttered. “2643383279.”
“A what?” Her face scrunched up in confusion.
“A psych hold?” One more breath. “5028841971.”
“Of course not. We’re going to the Omega Center Clinic. They’ll check out your concussion and injuries and run some more tests. They may do a mental health evaluation, but that’s standard. You’ll probably meet with an advocate, which is also standard,” she explained. “Are you recitingPi?”
Yes. Yes, I was.Good job, brain. Can you remember my name and how I got here now?
I opened my eyes. “Why is there a fence?”
“It’s the Omega Center. They want everyone to feel safe. The one where you live probably isn’t this big. There’s not just a clinic and a matching center here, there’s also a full hospital, rec center, and housing. It’s nice and safe–no one’s going to bother you. The staff is almost entirely beta and omega. Alphas are restricted to very specific areas, and the security is all delta,” she explained.
Nothing, this all meantnothing.
“There’s also a high level of confidentiality, so if someone is looking for you, they shouldn’t be able to find out that you’re here,” Detective Lawson added.
Well, that’s a relief.
We drove to the gate. She flashed her badge, and the guard let her in. The door we went through, guarded by a guy in a security uniform, saidClinic Entrance–No Alphas.
The lobby was cute, with plush chairs, and a cart with tea and snacks, and cheerful art on the walls.
“Detective Lawson,” the receptionist behind the desk greeted. She looked at me. “Hey, Hun.”
“Jane Doe. Twenty-seven, concussion, and possible assault,” Detective Lawson told her. “We’ll need one of Claire’s team,” she told them.
“Jane Doe?” the receptionist blinked.
Detective Lawson leaned in and said some things I couldn’t hear. Someone in scrubs, possibly a nurse, joined them.
I kept myself busy by getting some tea from the cart. Maybe that would taste better. There were pictures and colorful brochures.Know your rights and options,one said.Rockland Regional Omega Center Services and Programs,another stated.
Rockland. Where was that? I needed a map.
The nurse came over to me, expression kind–and she didn’t reek of perfume. “Let’s get started while they talk, okay, Hun?”
She took me back to a room where I stood on a machine. They did more pinpricks and the box thing. They, of course, didn’t work, and no one really explained what they were for–and I didn’t ask.
“We’ll get some blood and do a full workup.” The nurse brought me into another room and took a vial of blood. It was small and painless. After she finished, she took me to a cute exam room–like it actually felt inviting and comfortable, not sterile and impersonal. She asked me a bunch of questions, some quite personal, then left, assuring me she’d be back soon.
Detective Lawson came back in. “They’re going to get you checked out. Hopefully, they can help you with what happened. You can trust them, they’ll take care of you, and I’ll be in touch.”
While I didn’t want her to leave, I’m sure she had work to do. She left, and another woman came in. Cute, petite, and curvy, she had dark hair, and wore a badge with her photo and the wordAdvocateon it and a polo shirt that saidRockland Regional Omega Center.
“Hi, I’m Carly. I’m an advocate here at the Center, and I’m going to stay with you while you get checked out. While we have a lot to talk about, the nurse is going to do some exams, and then we’ll get some scans. A few other people might want to talk to you, too. Are you hungry?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I’m fine. Thanks.”
“It’s okay to be scared. We can get you some clean, comfortable clothes, too. Your dress is torn and dirty.” She smiled and squeezed my hand.
I started to cry. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
“Oh, Hun. No one’s going to hurt you here. It’s going to be okay,” she assured, hugging me. Her body spray smelled of cookies, though it wasn’t overwhelming.
