Page 9 of Petals and Strings
When I was clean, she took her time to comb through my knotted hair, using a spray that smelled like coconut until it was laying in its usual waves.
I was adult enough to admit I felt better now that I was clean, despite hating how they achieved it.
The steam and shock of it all had chased away some of the fog but my limbs still felt heavy and sluggish.
Whatever they did, I wanted no part of those sedatives again. Was it a warning? A higher dose than normal to get the point across.
Nancy put me back in the chair and we were off again. Her voice a steady drone as the wheels squeaked.
I just wanted to walk.
Then I was deposited in an empty infirmary room. Nancy stood by me, making sure I didn’t topple over after she helped me onto the exam table.
The door opened and the scent of stale coffee and antiseptic hit me, making me wrinkle my nose.
A man shuffled in, standing before me with a severe expression. His hair was dark and gelled over to one side. Glasses rested on his nose and his head was tilted to look down at me through them. The dark eyes behind them were steely and cold. Detached. It sent a shiver down my spine.
“Audrey Walker. You’ve been on quite an adventure.”
His accent was as thick as his scent. The way he spoke with a heavy lilt that lingered just a second too long on every word, like he wanted to lull you into a sense of safety.
No fucking chance on that. He gave me the creeps.
“I’m Dr. Malik. I oversee all the patients here, from general wellness to more pertinent issues. Seeing as you’re an omega, we have a few other things to discuss,” he said as he tapped the file in his hand.
“I don’t belong here.” He pursed his lips at me and let silence build until I shifted uncomfortably. He remained unperturbed outside the thin line of his mouth.
“Can you tell me your last heat?”
My mind helpfully replayed a heat, one with touches from my betas and my alpha, sweet words of reassurance and encouragement.
A smile played across my lips.
“A few months ago. Halfway through spring,” I said, keeping it vague. I didn’t trust him.
“Was it a suppressed heat? I took your labs yesterday and didn’t see any in your system.”
“No. My heats are fairly mild after…” I trailed off as my mind went blank, head tilting to the side as I searched for whatever was missing. It was like the moment I had the thought it was ripped away too quickly to make sense of it.
The room faded for a moment, replaced by the scent of bleach, the coppery tang of blood and sex and stale cigars.
Jarring sounds filtered through the shaky memory. Yells. Cries.
Terror had my heart pounding and a sharp slam wrenched me from the past to the present, the doctor looking at me a bit too closely.
“Stay with me. We don’t have time for this.”
Harsh. So much for taking ‘exceptional care’ of their patients like Nancy bragged out.
“I think it’s time to talk psychiatric symptoms. Delusions, that was noted. Auditory and visual hallucinations, as well. Do you feel anxiety?”
“No.” He frowned, but moved on smoothly.
“Nightmares?”
“Yes,” I sighed, unable to deny that. Even I knew I woke up screaming most nights, and they’d find out soon enough. “Sleeping meds make it worse. They tried that at the last clinic.”
He hummed in recognition but continued down a checklist, asking more invasive questions than I realized there were.
