Caryss Dorm Room

Carys

L ost in a sea of daydreams, I re-trace the outline of my drawing, making the fuzzy peach pop right off the page.

Bright and juicy , I think to myself, reliving the way Kofi kissed me. He said he wanted to devour me. My thighs tense, imagining what it might feel like to have someone lick me between my legs. Preston never did anything like that with me, but I’ve heard other omegas talk about it, and it sounds like something that would feel nice.

But I’ll never know, because I’m doomed to live here forever. Rotting in my room, the way a rejected omega deserves to live.

I mean, why would Kofi or his pack wait? A year is a lifetime, and Kofi is a very impressive alpha. His pack could probably get a normal omega. Someone that is beautiful and healthy. Someone who has not a single blemish and produces gallons of slick on command. Someone that doesn’t throw up when he tries to kiss her.

It makes no sense why they even want me.

“Still pouting?” Mari says loudly as she breezes into our shared bedroom. She plops onto her bed, the movement making her blonde braid bounce and sway. “I know you’ve got snacks hidden around here somewhere.” She scans our bare room. It's a very boring space compared to some of the other omegas’ rooms—blank white walls, white sheets with matching blankets. We have one brown dresser and matching side tables on each side of our very narrow beds. And that’s it. No pictures or trinkets. No letters or gifts. Neither one of us is interested in making this place any more of a home than it has to be. We’re both just killing time until we can move on. But that’s the only thing we have in common.

“Give it up, Carys.” Mari cocks one of her blonde eyebrows. Her expression makes her angular features look almost cutting. “There’s no point in fighting the system.”

I turn away from her, wishing for the hundredth time that I had my own room.

When I first arrived here, I shared with a lovely omega named Corie. Then after she left, Violet moved in with me. But it wasn’t long until she found a pack too. And now I’m stuck with the most unpleasant omega to have ever lived.

“You’ll never force these assholes to give you what you want.” Mari’s hard eyes narrow, and I frown. All I want is to be left alone. “Havenfield doesn’t want you to be happy,” she says simply. “They all just want you hidden from proper society.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“Really? You’re telling me you’ve never noticed that the rejected omegas don’t get out of here?” Her pretty face grows colder, almost as if she is already disinterested in the conversation. “No alpha wants an omega that’s been used,” she says flatly, and my stomach aches. She’s so cruel sometimes. I simply don’t understand why. But it does make sense why every pack Mari pursues ends up moving on to another omega.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch,” her voice lifts, taking in my downturned expression, “I’m just telling you like it is.”

I scowl, wishing I had something cutting I could say back to her. But I don’t have it in me. “That’s not true. Dr. Ambrose has tried really hard to help me.”

“Yeah?” she says a little too forcefully, making my shoulders curl inward. “Do you really think these assholes care about you?” She pauses as if waiting for me to answer, but the second I open my mouth, she cuts in once again. “They don’t give a shit about any of us.” Her voice raises, and I quickly duck my head at her sharp tone.

I know Mari won’t hurt me, but I still don’t like it when people speak so forcefully. It’s one of the reasons Kofi is so perfect. He’s never aggressive or mean. Just tender and kind. And he adores me. He’s the kind of alpha I’ve spent my whole life dreaming about. And the thought of not having him makes me want to curl up and sleep forever. I don’t want to move, or think, or even breathe.

I just want to melt into my mattress, never to be seen again.

“I’ve been here a long time, Carys,” Mari says when I don’t answer. “I’ve met about a dozen other omegas like you, and not a single one ended up with a pack.”

Confusion pulls between my brows. “That’s a lie,” I say, feeling a little bold. “I’m the only mated omega here because the others?—”

“Have all been sent to a long-term facility, or they’re dead.” Her brown eyes dart from my face to the faded scar on my neck. “I do envy you.” She sighs long and hard when I cover the mark with my hand. “It’s bullshit that omegas need a mating bite to live a long life.” She glares out the tiny window above the dresser. “I shouldn’t be forced to fuck some alpha-prick just to stay alive.”

I tilt my head at that, thinking about all the packs she’s pursued in the short time that I’ve been here. “I thought you wanted to be mated?”

“Some of us are just trying to survive.” She turns to her open closet, avoiding eye contact with me. All her clothes are hospital-issued, pale-blue dresses and cream-colored cardigans. She came here with nothing, like so many other omegas. And while I still don’t know her story, I’m sure it’s not good…just like the rest of us.

Mari’s mouth pulls down as her gaze drifts becoming unfocused. She looks lost in a memory, maybe thinking about her old life. Whatever happened to her, it has to be pretty bad to make her so incredibly angry.

“Mind if I come in?” There’s a swift knock on the door, and Ms. Tacken steps inside. She’s an impressive woman, incredibly tall, with unkempt dark hair and wide shoulders. I honestly thought she was an alpha when I first met her. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I nod at the beta, curious as to what she wants. Ms. Tacken is in charge of the mating program that places omegas with new packs. I’ve met her many times since I started my weekly phone calls with Kofi and his pack.

“Marigold,” Ms. Tacken turns her attention to my unpleasant roommate. “Do you mind?” She motions to the door. “I need a word with Carys.”

Mari pulls a bitter face, rolling her eyes. “Of course not.” She stands, giving Ms. Tacken an ugly look. “Why would you talk to Carys in one of the hundreds of private rooms and offices in this damn place, when you can simply kick me out of my room?”

Ms. Tacken’s mouth forms a tense smile as Mari marches past her. I know the staff here are just as tired of her attitude as I am, but what can you do?

“Good afternoon, Carys.” Her dark blue eyes brighten as Mari’s footsteps disappear down the hallway. “How are you feeling today?”

I’m not sure how to answer that.

In truth, I feel hollow. Empty. Restless. But no one wants to hear that. They want me to say that I’m wonderful and happy, and thrilled to wait a thousand years to find a mate.

“I’m okay, Ms. Tacken.” I pick up my journal, hugging it to my chest.

“Please,” she says sweetly, “call me Vanessa.”

I nod, but we both know I won’t. She’s asked me to call her by her given name many times but it feels too forward. Maybe even rude.

“How are you feeling?” Ms. Tacken asks, but before I can answer, Dr. Ambrose flits into the room. He’s carrying a covered plate in his hands. He looks flustered, out of breath, with a sheen of sweat across his forehead. Did he run here?

“Carys.” He says my name with far too much worry. “How are you feeling, omega? I brought you something to eat.” He holds up the plate, then lifts the plastic cover. The scent of salty fried chicken hits my nose, and my stomach churns.

I can immediately see the panic in both of their eyes. And as much as I want to be a good omega. I just can’t eat. My body won’t let me.

“I’m not hungry.” I drop my gaze, staring at the hem of my green dress. It’s one of the few articles of clothing I have from my old life. My lawyer bought it for me. She was really bothered by the fact that I didn’t own a stitch of my own clothing. She was shockingly kind.

“You have to eat.” Dr. Ambrose sounds almost desperate. It honestly looks like he might cry. Or maybe it’s pity I’m seeing in his blue eyes. Pity for the pathetic omega that has never known true love, and probably never will. “This isn’t good for you,” he says softly. “Especially so soon after your treatment. Please, Carys. Eat.”

Guilt settles in my gut. “Okay,” I mumble as I smooth my hands over my hair. I comb the tresses with my fingers over and over again.

“Really?” Dr. Ambrose asks excitedly. Then he sets the plate on the small table next to my bed, and immediately starts cutting a big bite of chicken. I frown at the offending cut of meat as he spears it with a fork.

“Are you okay?” Ms. Tacken’s dark eyes narrow at my face.

“Yes, ma’am.” I want to say the words with a bright and bubbly smile, but my body is warring against me, flashing hot and sweaty as Dr. Ambrose brings the fork toward me.

“Just one bite,” he says, hovering the chunk of white chicken in front of my mouth.

Salvia floods my mouth, and I begin to heave.

“Shit!” Ms. Tacken curses loudly.

I open my mouth, then gag. A small trash bin appears right in front of my face, and I grab it. I hug the bin, choking and retching on nothing. My stomach is completely empty. Just like my heart. It’s as if a fog has settled over me, pulling all sensation from my tired body. I feel numb. Dull. Empty.

“Call Kenna!” Ms. Tacken yells as she slowly lays me on my side. “Code yellow!”

I have no strength or desire to fight her.

I’m done.

The dull ache in the base of my skull grows until it’s pounding in the center of my face. I push my nose into my pillow, squeezing my blanket around my shoulders. I hate crying. It always makes me feel worse, but I honestly don’t think that’s possible.

After everything I’ve survived in my short life, I don’t think I’ve ever felt as hopeless as I do right now.