Page 86 of Thorns That Bloom
“No. No, you don’t fuckingget it, you disgusting prick!”
“Okay, okay…” He carefully puts his hand between us. “I know you’re going through a lot of emotions right now. That’s normal.” Condescending again. God, I want to shoot him so bad. “But really think about this. I could give you stability. A good life. You would never have to worry about money ever again, and neither would our baby.” He points to my stomach. “What alpha will want to take care of someone else’s kid?”
I pull the hammer of the revolver with a loud click. Brandon freezes.
“The child…is not…yours,” I say slowly, pushing each word through my clenched teeth while glaring at him. My hand might be trembling, but I’m aiming for his head, and if the pushcame to shove, I won’t miss.
His bulging eyes dart to the gun and back at me.
“Sam…”
“Get out.”
“I know he’s mine! Why else would I be unable to get that thought out of my mind?! Why would I have spent nearly every night these past few months unable to sleep, thinking of nothing but you and this?”
I let out a sharp laugh. He sounds like a lunatic.
“You know what that is? It’s no magical connection, just some underdeveloped, deformed echo of your fucking conscience! That’s all that is!” I spit out harshly.
Oh, I hope he does actually feel regret, even if it’s in his fucked-up, delusional way. I hope the shit he did to me keeps him up at night for the rest of his pathetic life.
When my finger moves to rest on the trigger, Brandon jolts back. Clearly, his life is much more valuable to him than all this faux conviction. “If you don’t turn around and leave right now, I’m going to call the police. And if you ever come here again, I’m going to fucking shoot you. I swear it on the life of my child, whom you’ll never see or touch or be in the presence of!”
“You’re fucking deranged!” Brandon shouts, voice trembling, but he starts retreating into the hallway. “You can’t do this,” he grumbles to himself as he leaves.
Once I’m sure he’s definitely gone, I shut the door and quickly put the safety back on. After putting the gun on the side table next to me, I run to the living room window, where I’m able to see the parking lot. Brandon dashes to his expensive, shiny car, and promptly drives away, nearly running into abush in the process.
The moment his car disappears behind the buildings in the distance, everything inside me goes into free fall. With a painful heave that nearly pushes all the air out of me, I slide down against the wall under the window and pull my knees toward my chest as tight as I can with my belly. With my trembling hands over my stomach, I let the tears out.
The anger has served me well, but now it’s well and truly gone, and all that’s left is the agonizing helplessness once again.
I could’ve shot him. And Iwantedto shoot him.
This can’t go on. It needs to stop before he wounds me more than he already has.
No more. Not again.
?
Getting an appointment the following day, a Sunday at that, wasn’t what I expected.
I fidget nervously with the box on my lap. There are some volunteers running around and a couple of omegas waiting, like me.
I glance at them only briefly, wondering what horrible violation they’ve experienced.
Last night, when I was in bed, trying to feel safe in my own home, with the gun ominously ready on the side table, I did some research online. Spyrax is quite the organization, turns out. Set up only four years ago, it’s been a part of many big cases of alpha-on-omega violence. A few high-profilecelebrity ones, too.
On their website, I studied the members section. Three highly skilled, driven omega lawyers and one beta make up their main team.
Gail Reid, Theo’s sister, was one of the assistants and marketers. The moment I saw her picture, I instantly remembered Theo saying his parents had twins. She looked the part in her headshot. Actually, she looked pretty much like a feminine version of Theo. Down to that charming smile and bright eyes.
The longer I sat in bed, trying to think about anything and everything besides the dark topics that would bring me down and let me spiral, the more did the instances of Theo talking about his sister jump out at me. Especially the fact of how few of them there were. And how he’s always talked about her in the past tense, as if she weren’t a part of his life anymore.
I thought about texting him and asking about it, but decided not to.
Last night, after what Brandon did, I was way too vulnerable and shaken. I wanted Theo with me, but there was something about taking that gun in my hands that made me feel like I should get through the night alone. After all, I’ve done that since before Theo came along. In a weird way, I got it into my head that I shouldn’t rely on him too much. Shouldn’t let myself get soft like that.
Still, I missed him so much. I missed him when I was falling asleep, alone and without his warm touch, without his hand on my belly, and I miss him now, sitting in this waiting room.
