Freed and Filled

Chapter 5 - Harlie

I stare at the drain as water drips from my naked body and trails over the shower room floor. The numbness inside my chest mingles with the cold air wafting across my exposed skin, creating a blanket against the panic swirling in my thoughts.

I plod to the plastic baskets, pull on a gown, and stand in front of my bed for further instructions. The soles of my feet sting against the chilly floor as an orderly wraps an ice pack and brace around my neck. She checks my chart before unlocking the cabinet and preparing a syringe.

"This will burn, but it'll help you heal faster," she says as she disinfects my arm. I meet her gaze but don't open my mouth, the brace preventing me from speaking. With detached interest, I wonder why this woman is here. She's the nicest of all our jailers. I've never seen the glint of evil in her eyes like I have the other orderlies, nor has she been cruel. With golden undertones, darker skin and an accent I can't place, she stands out amongst most of the crew. She meets my gaze and studies my eyes before administering the medicine.

My fellow test subjects file into the room. Stacy's eyes widen as she sees the brace on my neck, but she moves to her spot and stands as expected. Two orderlies post on one side of the room while another two mirror them on the other side. The room quiets further as our head orderly stalks into the room. She flicks annoyed brown eyes my way before waving in four male betas. They wheel a stainless steel cart between the first two beds in my row.

When she props her tablet on her hip and peruses the room, I pivot so I face her since I can't turn my neck.

"We begin a new trial today. You will answer all questions in as much detail as possible. Understood?" she asks.

"Yes, ma'am," everyone says in unison. The pain medicine warms my veins and loosens my control, feeding the urge to fidget, but I use the pain of swallowing to ground me.

My brain wanders as she turns to the first omega. Without my defenses shored up, I immediately think of him. The beast who hurt me. The monster who hauled me onto his chest and closed his teeth over my jugular.

He changed me. Even though he didn't bite me—didn't mark me—something shifted in my soul.

I wanted him to sink his teeth into me.

I don't know how to feel about it.

Terror thickens my blood as I recall the fury in his inhuman face. Other sensations run through me as I replay the bulging of his muscles and the expanse of his thighs.

I thought I was already in hell, but I might be headed to a deeper circle. Warmth fills my veins as I imagine running my hands over his body.

Movement in my periphery pulls me from my daydreaming. I shuffle to the side of my bunk, reach underneath, and bring the built-in restraints onto the mattress. Being careful not to jostle my neck, I gingerly climb onto the mattress and close the loops over my ankles, securing them to the bed. When my shoulder protests at the odd tugging of the brace, I loosely close the strap over my left wrist and drop my hands to my lap.

The four beta males surround me. One lifts the head of my bed while another checks my restraints. The other two alter the railings, dropping and raising according to protocol. I sit and breathe through my nose, struggling to find my normal calm.

Wincing as pain shoots up my neck, I don't resist when the male nearest my head pulls my right arm to reveal the crook of my elbow. Without preamble, the head orderly disinfects my arm and pierces me with a needle.

For a few seconds, nothing happens. A thousand thoughts run through my head. Maybe I'm the placebo this round. Maybe this drug won't affect me. Maybe no matter what they try, I'll always be abnormal.