Page 36 of No Escape
Omen
The hours pass exceptionally slowly when we’re locked down. A telly or access to our phones would be nice, but we have the basics. My bottom drawer is filled with chess, checkers, a deck of cards, and no less than ten fantasy books. I’ve read them all, so I give Saylor the chance to browse through them while I do my evening exercise routine.
Unless the guards are majorly pissed, they should bring the food carts soon.
Not that I didn’t snag half the snack display just to be safe, but omegas need regular balanced meals. They’re prone to a fondness for sweets and other junk foods, but they’re also more likely to end up with vitamin deficiencies and osteoporosis than any other designation. Their system will leach vitamins from their bones to prepare for little alphas and omegas.
Hell, maybe the same is true for all women.
I don’t fucking know.
The bars under my bed are just wide enough to get my legs through. It’s more of a pain in the arse to push the mattress up enough to get situated than it is to deal with their non-rounded edges, but this is a nightly ritual at this point.
Valor has apparently decided the shower is the only safe place for him because he hasn’t left the loo in hours. The water is running, so maybe he’s trying to drown himself. If he stopped up the drain, he could make about two inches of standing water before it started flooding the floor.
I almost snort.
The bond assures me he’s fine.
Okay, physically, he’s good.
Emotionally, that man is a wreck.
He’s been through the whole spectrum of emotions and back again, all while trying to give himself hypothermia. The water we have access to in the cells comes out barely above freezing.
I’m genuinely surprised he’s lasted in there for this long. Other than once or twice when they locked us down for longer periods of time, neither of us have even used that shower.
It’s bloody uncomfortable for even a quick rinse.
I’ve often pondered why they don’t offer us hot water in the cells. Perhaps it would tax the facility’s system to pump it into each room, but at times like these, it’s a right pain in the arse. It’s far more likely that they have the capacity and they just withhold the hot water as a punishment.
Saylor huffs, tossing herself down in the gaming lounger that was here when we claimed the room. Her eyes dance over me as I hang from the bars under my bed.
I smirk and offer a cheeky little wave before starting my hanging sit-ups. It’s uncomfortable, as the metal digs into the soft skin behind my knees, but I do enjoy the way the omega watches each of my muscles flex. Her eyes continue to dance over my flesh, and I vaguely wonder if she’s trying to memorize my tattoos.
She notices I’m watching and grumbles under her breath, flipping open the closest book. It’s an epic fantasy and close to seven hundred pages in print. It should keep her busy for a while if it captures her attention.
I eventually get in the zone and stop putting on a show.
Being trapped in this place isn’t just a mind game. It’s hard not to let it take a toll on my physical health. With a little discipline, I’ve managed to mostly keep myself where I need to be, but the mental aspects are more complicated.
Not being able to step outside and smoke if I’d like to is another. Although Valor has been on my ass to break the habit for years. I’m still undecided if I’ll pick it up again once we make it out of this hellhole. I do love a cigarette after several strong pints.
“I’ve never had to share a bathroom before.” Saylor huffs. “But I feel like it’s common to warn your roommates before disappearing into the only restroom forhours.”
I laugh and allow myself to fall until I’m once again staring at her upside down. “No couth to be found in that one. Do what I do and just barge in.”
“There’s no shower curtain.” Her face twists into an adorable frown that makes her nose crinkle.
“Right, then, I suppose you’d better hope you don’t give yourself a UTI from holding your urine for too long.” I cross my arms over my chest and curl up. “The medical services here leave a lot to be desired. If I were you, I wouldn’t risk it.”
“Can’t you, I don’t know…” She gives me a look I can’t quite decipher as she closes the book and sets it on the floor at her side. “Knock and tell him to get out or something?”
“Nah, the big guy likes to hang out under the icy water,” I lie, ignoring the head rush that comes from hanging upside down. “The hypothermia reactivates all those damaged brain cells.” I barely hold back a joke aboutshrinkage, but I’m pretending to be a gentleman, and I think that might ruin the facade. “He’s currently the most docile he’ll ever be.”
Damn, I wonder if she can sense that I’m lying my dick off. Omegas are said to be very perceptive.
I might need to say a few Hail Marys and an Our Father or two for good measure.
