Page 3 of Petals and Strings
Something sharp pricked into my wrist from the bracelet he’d stuck on me. Cold flooded my veins, quick and consuming as the sedative he threatened to use on me slithered through my body.
Fuck.
My pack blurred, like a mirage on a hot day. They were solid for a moment longer, wobbling strangely before fadingaltogether, leaving an empty yard glistening with rain, the overcast skies opening up as the rain picked up.
Or maybe those were my tears.
Darkness crept around the edges, the voices blurring together into a strange sound that I couldn’t possibly decipher. My screams slowly died into pathetic whimpers.
Then it was over.
They won.
I was trapped. Again.
Chapter Two
Caspian
My fingers ran lightly over my necklace. The two rings, one bigger than the other, were warm from resting against my skin. It was reassuring.
The necklace was my lifeline here.
Others were moving around me, shifting uncomfortably in their chairs while Theo tried and failed to conduct group therapy.
He always failed, never truly trying to get our group to open up or asking the right questions to keep us talking.
It was like he simply used basic knowledge and put it into play, never reading the room and facing the people here with a single ounce of empathy.
As he droned on about the importance of talking about our bullshit feelings, I slipped into my usual quiet. The rest of the world faded into a low buzz, then silence, as I drowned in the memories I clung to with everything I had.
“Daddy!” the word struck me right through the heart, a smile forming on my face as my little girl ran full-tilt at me after wiggling free from her mama’s arms.
My omega, Tatum, laughed at our daughter’s antics. She was all smiles and wavy, brown hair blowing in the wind. Our daughter was her mini-me, right down to the vibrant, green eyes and dimples on their left cheeks.
“She was dying to get home and show you this,” Tatum laughed as I picked up Lilly and swung her in a circle. We stopped in front of her mama as she held up her latest art project.
Our girl was talented for her age. Five and already making detailed art, including the right kind of shading. In a few years, she’d have true talent.
For now, our walls and fridge were covered in her many projects. She hung up each one with a proud grin.
“Another one for the future art gallery,” I said with a gasp, taking the picture of a dog and studying it closely. She giggled as I gushed about every little detail.
That sound was my favorite.
Her laughter faded into screams, jarring me from my memories. I could ignore most of the world, but sudden shifts in sound were a sure way to do it.
Unfortunately, that happened a lot around here. Ash Recovery Center didn’t house the stable, docile people of the world.
No. The opposite.
Most of us were lost in our memories or our minds, a prison that had no escape. My grief left me screaming in the night and fighting against the void growing in my chest.
In those dark moments, the nightmares of me holding my bleeding girls against my chest and screaming for help, I was among the loudest.
The current scream filling the air had Theo gently guiding me to a nearby chair.
When did he move me? How did we get here?
