by W. Mae Smith
My head pounded like I had a hangover from hell. I started to think back to when my PTSD episodes first started occurring. My moods began changing from super lows to super highs. My friends and colleagues knew it was only the repercussions of my losing the omega I loved, but they didn’t understand just how badly I was affected.
The most painful part of it all was that I did not know if he had died or if he had been alive somewhere, hoping he would make it home to me. The torture of not knowing drove me mad. My blackouts started to occur regularly. A few times a week my commanding officer would have me locked up behind bars because of my angry unsettling behavior towards other privates.
They told me I would scream at them, threatening and accusing them of knowing where Anthony was. Sometimes I would break things or throw things at my fellow soldiers. Once I even held a knife to an officer’s neck, demanding that he tell me where Anthony was. After that I was given leave due to stress. I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder and ordered to see a psychotherapist several times a week until my condition was under control.
Years had gone by and my PTSD had not surfaced until Carlos entered my life and his scent triggered that feeling I had once shared with Anthony.
I lay back down wishing there was something I could do to make it all better. I looked at my phone with bitter desperation. My stomach flip-flopped back and forth and my head spun in circles, I knew there was nothing I could do at this moment. I fell back asleep in hopes tomorrow would bring me closer to resolution.
The next morning came too fast. My body was still sick with worry and scary conclusions still raced through my mind. I dragged myself out of bed and searched the fridge for some food. Nothing seemed appetizing but I pulled out some sandwich meat and wheat bread. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday and I felt weak. The sandwich barely hit my stomach before my nerves took over and I ran to the bathroom to throw it all up.
I curled my knees into my chest and leaned up against the bathroom wall behind me. I was a disaster. I had to do something or talk to someone. The fear of Carlos never coming back was eating me alive. Unwillingly I pulled myself up off the bathroom floor to find my phone and call Dr. Riley.
I called her emergency line she’d given me years ago but that I had never used until now. It rang twice, then she picked up. Her soothing voice echoed through my phone, “Hi Damien, I’m so glad to be hearing from you. How are things?”
I took a deep breath and started to sob when I felt the comfort of her voice. “I’m sorry. I should have- Carlos- and—“ My words were being spit out in no order and I was heaving air between each one.
“You sound upset.” She said it so even-headed it made me jump back into my body and straighten out a little.
“Yes,” was all I could pathetically respond.
“I have an open space in an hour. I can see you then. Does that work?”
I responded with another pathetic, “Yes”.
“Great, thank you for calling Damien. I will see you shortly.”
I ended the call without saying goodbye and began to move through the motions of getting up out of the house to my appointment.
I sat on her sofa twirling my thumbs around one another. I wasn’t sure what I should even be admitting to her because I wasn’t sure what I had done to begin with.
Her soft empathetic blue eyes guided me through a series of exercises to help me recall the events from the other night, but it was hard to think back. I would shudder before I could make any progression with my memory. After an hour of cognitive practices, I still could remember nothing of significance.
I sighed in despair. “It’s hopeless.”
She looked into my dark brown eyes and smiled softly. “Nothing is hopeless Damien.” Then she shifted slightly in her seat with a more serious face. “How would you feel about asking Carlos what really happened?”
She must have seen the fear in my eyes and the shift in my body language because she spoke before I could answer. “Just think about it okay? I know it will be hard to face the possibility of rejection, but if you reach out I’m sure you’ll be surprised by the reactions.” She smiled again, placing down her notepad and stood up, ushering this session to be a wrap.
I stood after her, politely nodded a thank-you and went to walk out. She stopped me just before I reached the door, “If you need anything, just call.” She added, “Carlos as well; my door is always open for the both of you.” I thanked her again and left her office.
On my way home I thought about her words: asking Carlos; reaching out; door is always open. I wanted to find him and explain. I knew I had to wait for his heat to be over. I couldn’t trust myself around his scent. Waiting would be hard but I had to accept it.
23
Carlos
My ring was back at a neutral navy blue. For the first time I felt relief that my heat was ending. Normally my heats were my favorite time of the year. I embraced my sexuality and felt powerful among my alpha companions.
This was different. I couldn’t stop thinking about Damien. I longed for him. I wanted so badly for him to be with me through this heat. I knew no other alpha could satisfy me like Damien had. I could only think of his big black muscles, warm and comforting arms wrapped around my body.
It took everything in my will power not to call him and ask him to come give me everything I wanted and needed. The truth was I was too scared to call. I didn’t know if his warm comforting arms would turn violent like they had the other night. So I waited. I amused myself for the week. I tried to imagine other men in hopes to forget the man I had fallen in love with, but still the only thing that helped me through was the image of him touching me, pleasing me, and fucking me.
When it was finally over I decided I couldn’t let my alpha, or any alpha make me feel this way ever again. I was a strong and confident omega; I always had been. Even though Damien had the mature qualities I longed for in a mate and a dreamy ex-solider body, I couldn’t let him control my happiness, especially when it came to my time in heat.
I checked out of the less-than-average Heat House and didn’t know what to do. Damien was my neighbor and I knew I would have to face him sooner or later if I went home. I decided that wasn’t an option. I wouldn’t be able to deny his scent even if I tried. I reminded myself that I never wanted to go through a heat like that again so I called Patrick.
Patrick came an hour later with a suitcase of my clothes and amenities I needed for the week.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” He said as he pulled up in a taxi.
“What other choice do I have, Pat?” I asked him in a flat tone. He said nothing in response and we rode in silence to my friend Alex’s house. We were co-workers at Browns together, though we didn’t spend much time together outside of work. He was a rather boring omega that seemed to do nothing but eat, sleep, and work, but he was always kind to me. He knew I was a struggling student that had no family and few friends in the area. He always told me if I needed anything to ask, and here I was with nowhere to go, so I called.
We reached his house and Pat helped me with my bag to the front door. Alex was working and had left the key under the mat. I was grateful -I wasn’t in the mood to make uncomfortable small talk with someone I knew would not be able to relate by any means.
“Thank you Patrick,” I said before I went inside. “We’ll figure out the apartment situation soon.” As I said it I choked slightly on my tears, but caught myself before I started a waterfall.
“Take your time. It’ll all work out.” He smiled and gave me a big bear hug. Before leaving he asked if I wanted him to call me if he heard anything from Damien. I told him to not, thanked him again, and went inside my new, temporary apartment.
Weeks passed and I remained out of touch with most people, except for Patrick. He came by when I needed clothes or random things from the apartment. Every time he came by he said the same thing over and over.
He really needs to talk to you Carlos. You don’t know the whole st
ory. Please just call him.
Every time he told me I stubbornly repeated the same thing back to him, “I don’t want to hear it Patrick. I’ve made my decision.” More time passed and Patrick would repeat this over and over with the same sense of urgency each time. Eventually my walls began to break down. I knew Patrick would only have my best interest at heart and he was too adamant to ignore.
On the third week I sat in Alex’s drab living room sharing the couch with Pat. I had one leg bent and the other on the ground with my body directed towards him like I always sat when we talked about mate stuff.
I originally invited him over to talk about apartment hunting. I wanted to find a new place with him because I couldn’t keep paying rent for an apartment I was no longer living in, and I was wearing out my welcome at Alex’s place. Of course the minute we sat down he said nothing about apartments and switched his attention to Damien.
“Can we drop it. please?” I begged him. “Look, we can have a whole new start! No boys, or men.” I forced the apartment listing from the morning’s paper in his face, showing him the ones I’d already circled.
He pulled the paper out of his face not caring if it ripped or not. Clearly he had no intention of reading them or talking about apartments at all.
“I don’t understand why you’re being so persuasive with this! You know he can’t be trusted. He’s crazy!” I could feel my voice raising and I became more heated as I spoke to him.
He looked me dead in the eyes and passed me his phone. “Call him, please.” His tone stayed even, even though I was yelling at him. I knew he was serious because he didn’t raise his tone, which was very impressive for a Latino man.
I took a moment and waited for him to give up but of course he didn’t. Stubborn Latinos I thought to myself, then took the phone from his hand.
24
Damien
I waited the amount of time it took for any regular heat to end before I thought about contacting Carlos. I avoided my apartment, only going back for clothes, and stayed at the hotel. I wanted to give him his space. I wanted him to come to me when he felt ready.
When the respectable amount of time had passed, I waited a few more days, then returned home. With caution, I proceeded to sniff the air before entering up the stairs to our second floor. I smelt nothing and I heard nothing.
The next few days carried on the same, smelling nothing and seeing no one. I was beginning to panic. On the third day I ran into Patrick leaving the apartment to go to work.
“Patrick!” I raised my hand towards him waving at him frantically as though I was trying to prevent a small child from entering a fast moving river.
He seemed to cringe at the sight of me. “Damien, hey man. How, ah, are you?” the look on his face seemed to say, ‘is that okay if I ask that’?
“Patrick, can you tell me if he’s okay?” He saw the desperation in my eyes and stopped himself from stepping downstairs to flee from me.
“He’s fine.” His eyes shifted along the floorboards of our deck as he said it. “I just don’t get it Damien.” Suddenly his head lifted, his eyes piercing mine with questions. “What happened? You’re such a together guy. Carlos said…he said…you were abusive?”
My heart started to fall from my chest. Is that what he thought? I needed Patrick to carry on my message for me. If Carlos thought I was a manic abusive alpha, there was no way he would answer my calls let alone call me on his own time. I knew Carlos had too much pride to be with an abusive alpha, and I would never want him to be in that position.
“Listen Patrick,” I stared deeply into his round eyes to make sure he was listening to me. “That’s not the whole story.”
He shifted slightly. “Damien, I’m going to be late for work and I don’t know if this is appropriate…”
He was right. It was not very ethical seeing how I was his boss and I could not stop him from going to his place of work. I pretended to look down at my watch in consideration for his time. “You’re right. Will you come speak to me after?” I was trying to maintain a level of professionalism around him but all I wanted to do was break down crying.
He hesitated for a moment before agreeing to come see me after work. When he left, I went to my apartment to gather my thoughts. I thought about writing a letter, but the idea of putting pen to paper was too painful. So I lay in bed, deep in thought.
When I heard Patrick coming up the stairs I leapt out of bed and onto the deck. He clearly had no intention of coming over because I caught him walking towards his door, and when he heard his name being shouted his shoulders lifted in a less-than-subtle cringe.
Slowly he turned towards me. “Hey, I was just going to shower quickly…”
“It won’t take long!” I interjected quickly.
Reluctantly he walked over to my side of the deck, entered my apartment and sat at my table, waiting for my story.
I told him everything. I told him about my past lover, his unanswered disappearance and how I was discharged from the army due to my PTSD episodes. From the looks on this face throughout the story it seemed he was not expecting anything I was saying. By the end of it all he looked confused but at the same time empathetic towards me. He understood and I could trust he would pass the message on to Carlos.
As the weeks passed by, Patrick and I spoke everyday. He told me when he would leave to see Carlos but each time he returned he would shake his head with bad news. Carlos wouldn’t listen. I commemorated his strength as a person but I was starting to lose hope that I would ever get through to him.
On the third week I still had heard nothing. Carlos didn’t want to hear anything I had to say. I thought about calling him but if he didn’t listen to Patrick, his best friend, I knew I would have no chance getting through to him either.
I wanted to get away. Carlos’ spicy scent still lingered in the apartment’s air. Every time I stepped onto the deck my heartstrings pulled from the aroma of our memories. Each time Patrick came home with disappointing news my stomach would curl sending me back to my bedroom to cry over the mate I thought I had found.
A get-away was what I needed. There was a neighboring hotel north from mine, up in the valley. You could get there by train. It was a quiet, peaceful location. I could go there to clear my head and get away from Carlos’ lingering scent.
I packed my bags that night. In the morning I knocked on Patrick’s door to let him know I was leaving for a few days, but no one answered. I slipped a note under his door and headed to the train station.
Once I boarded the train I felt at ease. I took in a deep breath and sunk into the carpeted wool seat. I gazed out of the window into the distance. I could see the university far off on the horizon. I bit my tongue thinking about Carlos.
Just as the train began to move, a tall grey haired man sat down beside me. He looked like he could be somewhere in or around his sixties but clearly kept in shape throughout his years. His grey hair was long and tied back into a ponytail. He had small round glasses and wore a mauve V-neck and jeans.
He sat down and I smiled at him politely. He smiled back and said hello then he regressed to his crossword puzzle. As I moved my gaze back to the window my eyes caught a glimpse of his imprint marking across the back of his shoulder.
My body tensed. I sucked back the tears that were about to fall from my eyes. Why couldn’t I find my mate? Everyone had someone. I had given up hope for so long. Finally my hope had been restored with Carlos and I had ruined it all. If I couldn’t make it work with Carlos, perfect Carlos, young confident, strong, sexy Carlos who would it work with?
I closed my eyes and rested my head against the seat. About five minutes into the ride I opened my eyes. Sleeping was not going to be an option, there was too much on my mind. I flipped down my front tray table so I could get some work done and distract myself from the jealousy I had towards my mated seat companion.
I pulled some papers out of my travel bag and fished around for a pen. I couldn’t find anything so I dug deeper, still
nothing. In frustration I took the bag and dumped the contents onto the table. I fumbled through the mess, placing the non-pen items back in the bag.
Finally, I located a pen. It wasn’t just any pen, it was Carlos’ pink feather pen; The pen he had used when I had been too intimidated to approach him without the excuse ‘that the internet was out’.
The university Carlos attended, the mated omega with his imprint showing beside me, and now holding the pen; Carlos’s pen. My heart began to race, my hands started to shake. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.
I started to stand, fumbling my way out of the seat pushing the omega beside me.
“Hey!” He watched me with a disturbed look on his face. “What the hell are you doing?”
I just needed air but I couldn’t make out the words and kept pushing him out of the way. He pushed me back. Before realizing what I was doing I shoved him hard in defense. He fell to the ground.
My mind began to fog and I saw Carlos. “CARLOS!” I yelled so he could hear me. “CARLOS!” I stumbled my way through the train car trying to reach him.
He kept walking farther and farther away until he disappeared. “Carlos, no! Please! No!” I dropped to my knees screaming and pounding the ground. Uniformed men approached me, dragging me off the ground. I fought back, but it was useless. They didn’t know Carlos and they didn’t know my story.
25
Carlos
Walking through the forest was the perfect thing to clear my head. Between work and school and the obvious Damien fiasco that was constantly on my mind, I was beginning to feel down. Worry-free Carlos had definitely not been ready for the feelings that lurked inside his bones.
I had taken the phone from Patrick with the intention to call Damien, but, in the end, I couldn’t do it. It went against everything my instincts were telling me to do but I couldn’t put my pride aside. Too many omegas were abused by their alphas and I was not going to stand by and be one of them, no matter what Patrick thought or didn’t think about him.