Page 30 of Impossible

“Fine, I guess.” I shrug. The entire right side of my body is pulsing, pulling me towards Leon. I struggle to pay attention to Dr. Gray’s words.

“Well, let’s jump right in then, hmm? I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that you’re in dangerous territory with your weight. From her notes, it looks like Dr. Mason has already read you the riot act several times over.”

I flush, suddenly wishing Leon weren’t here to witness this. Indie the Insufficient.

“I won’t waste time spouting off about the dangers of your disorder, you already know them all. You’ll start counseling tomorrow, and we’ll be supervising your meals to make sure you get three squares. Weekly weigh-ins as well. Do you have any questions for me?”

“I don’t need therapy,” I start.

“Everybody gets counseling when they come to the Complex, Indie,” Leon cuts in. “Pack-born and beta-born, alphas and omegas. It’s not just about your ED. It’s also about adjusting to a strange new place. I got it too, back in my day,” he smiles. My shoulders drop. If everybody gets it, I do feel better, even if I know that’s stupid. I nod.

“In regard to your heat, I wish I had better news,” Dr. Gray goes on. “The physical was inconclusive, hopefully the bloodwork will give us something more definitive. You’re fully awakened, no doubts there, but it could be days or months until your heat. Your symptoms are too scattered to pinpoint anything more closely. Do you have any questions on that?”

“How do I get suppressors?”

Dr. Gray tents his fingers and looks over his big oak desk at me. Thankfully, his expression isn’t pitying like Ms. O’Brien’s—just thoughtful. “Why do you want to suppress your heat?” he asks.

I can hear my blood thrumming in my ears. Leon feels very warm next to me. Even a foot away, I can feel the heat emanating from his body. His eyes are heavy. “I just don’t want it.”

Dr. Gray nods. “If you wanted to take suppressors, I would support you, but in your current state of health, I can’t allow it. If you were to get your weight up to, say, 130 pounds, and all of your blood panels came back clean and within normal ranges, then we could discuss suppressors. Until then, I wouldn’t take the chance with your health. And Indie; suppressors are a one-heat solution. Maybe two. You can’t remain on them long-term without risking severe side effects.”

130. A ghastly number. Nothing I could even consider allowing myself to get near. I shudder at the thought of my body with all that fat. Flab in my arms and thighs and stomach and cellulite-ridden ass. I barely hear the rest of his sentence. All I can picture is people’s disgust, their eyes on me and the fabric of my clothing stretched taut over my disgusting, bulging form.

The injustice comes crashing home again—I can starve myself and buy time before the inevitable, or I can glut myself and risk going into heat before I’ve hit a weight where I’ll be allowed to eradicate it for real.

I’m quiet as Leon walks with me out of the med hall. I’m tired, my thoughts ping-ponging back and forth between my options. Cedar and cloves are swimming through my body, a sort of chemical calm spreading through me that wipes away the stress of the appointment.

“How was your weekend, little bird?” Leon asks once we’re outside.

“Um, awful?” I can’t help but smile though. I don’t know why—I have no reason to smile right now.

“Yeah, that was a bad question, huh?” Leon laughs.

“Is there anybody who gets told they’re an omega, learns what it is, and is like ‘oh boyyay!’” I joke.

“Actually, yes. Being an omega is a lucky, lucky thing.”

“How?”

“There’s a mixer on Wednesday this week. Will you come?”

The non-sequitur jars me. “Ms. O’Brien mentioned that,” I hedge.

Something dark flickers in Leon’s eyes, but he shakes it away and smiles again. “It’s a good chance to build community. Not just meet packs, though it’s good for that too. There are unmated omegas as well who will understand your situation, and mated packs, so you can see what all the hype is about.”

“Are you mated?” I ask before thinking.

Leon shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, that was an inappropriate question.”

“Not at all—please don’t feel bad asking questions. Any and all of them, I’ll do my best to answer.”

“Will you be at the mixer?”

He breathes in sharply. “Probably not.”

“I’ll go if you go.”

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