Chance clapped enthusiastically. “Thank you, everyone. Wyatt?”
I cleared my throat. “Um. My name is Wyatt Stanislav. I…” A knot filled my throat, making it difficult to speak. “I was, um, recently rescued from… from a place.” I waved at my throat. It was like I was choking, but I could still breathe. My whole time with the Novaks, no one had pushed me to talk about my past. They all knew what had happened. I’d had no reason to put my experience into words. “I was kidnapped from my home country of Ukraine when I was twelve and I was rescued a few months ago.”
Even getting out that little felt like such a Herculean effort.
“You don’t have to share any more if you don’t want to,” Chance said gently.
I shook my head. I had to push through this lock around my voice. I couldn’t handle being chained by anything ever again, even my own body. “I was… I was a prostitute.”
I nearly collapsed from the effort of getting the word out. Of acknowledging what I had been—what I’d been forced into.
“Thank you for sharing with us, Wyatt. Can we give Wyatt a round of applause in recognition?” Everyone except Craig clapped, but I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t look back. I didn’t want to know what I would see there. Disgust? Pity?
It was better if it was a mystery.
“Now. Does anyone have anything they need to bring to the group?”
Shane volunteered. As he slowly crumbled, recounting the latest issues with his fight for custody, I realized that even if he was able to give a calm, smooth explanation of his situation, it had only been the surface.
None of us were okay. I wasn’t the only broken omega here—we were all broken.
Sadness and frustration and helplessness welled in my chest as I listened to him, but for some reason, I couldn’t cry.
Why couldn’t I cry? When was the last time I had felt that release?
For the rest of the session, I tucked deep inside myself, unable to handle the emotions that spilled from the others. Sometimes like a trickle, sometimes like a flood. Even Geordie’s celebration of one month without bingeing and purging was overwhelming.
Chance gave me several opportunities to join in, but he never pressured me. Craig didn’t respond much either, which left me feeling… safe? Not just physically safe, which was a big deal for me. But emotionally safe. For the first time, I didn’t feel alone. I loved the Novaks. They had cared for me and done their best to make me feel at home, but they couldn’t give me this shared feeling of being equally fucked up.
After our session, the others dispersed quickly. They’d had enough time at The Haven Center to settle into their own schedules, leaving only me at odds. Outside the counseling room was a billboard with information on all the current available classes and groups: Zumba and yoga, but also several different martial arts trainings. There was a self-defense class tomorrow. Plus, there were horse-riding lessons—I remembered Chance mentioning the stables—and art classes, music classes, sign language classes. Computer literacy. Marathon training.
My head buzzed with all the options. Chance had said I should pick something to fill my day. Hunter had Bast and his online courses, but I wondered what Craig did in his spare time. Maybe I could do whatever he did?
He probably didn’t want someone like me tagging along after him, though. He projected his loner status as clearly as if he’d tattooed it across his nose.
Maybe I should ask Chance what he thought?
No. I couldn’t keep depending on others, especially alphas, to take care of me. To make my decisions. Part of the reason I’d decided to come to The Haven Center was to figure out who I was. To learn how to manage on my own.
I could do this. I could pick something on my own.
Before I could second, third and quintuple-guess myself, I jotted down the self-defense class information. A lot of the others sounded interesting, but the self-defense class was what I needed. It took place in the evening, three times a week. Tomorrow would be the first I’d be available to attend, if I could psych myself up for it.
I considered exploring the cafeteria, just for something to do. After so much shared emotion, however, I couldn’t bear more people time. I also had no interest in turning myself into a prisoner in my own room.
And so I spent the afternoon exploring the grounds alone. In human form, not wolf. I wasn’t ready for that, yet. Everything was so much more intense as a wolf. Scents, sounds, my awareness of my body. And The Haven Center was overwhelming even in human form.
I found the stables and skirted widely around them, in case people there might try to pull me into conversation. I discovered two other groups of townhouses like mine, wrapped in the protective layers of the woods. The grounds truly were massive.
I spent so long exploring, I skipped lunch, and by dinnertime, my hunger clawed a hole through my stomach. Craig was leaving the house just as I arrived. He wore the same clothing as earlier—the tight black jeans and lime-green fishnet shirt only slightly covered by a black crop top, far more daring and attention-grabbing than I could imagine being comfortable in. But it fit Craig like a second skin. His headphones, as part of him as his dark scowl, covered his ears, and like yesterday, I could hear the bass beats from the distance.
Didn’t he feel vulnerable, shutting himself off to his surroundings so thoroughly? How would he ever hear danger approaching? Or see it, the way his eyes fixed so solidly on the ground?
Not so solidly, perhaps, because he suddenly lifted them to look directly at me. He slid the headphones around his neck and nodded. “I wouldn’t advise going inside right now. Hunter tried to make popcorn.”
“Is there a big mess?”
“You ever smelled burnt popcorn?”
I shook my head.
“You don’t want to. Trust me. I can’t cook with those fumes assaulting my senses, so I’m headed to the cafeteria for dinner. Wanna join?”
My stomach growled ferociously. “Can I?”
Craig’s lips thinned. “You can do whatever you want now, pumpkin. This isn’t a prison.”
I flushed. “I just meant… I didn’t want to intrude…”
“I asked, didn’t I? Come on. I’m getting hangry, and if your stomach’s yelling is any indication, you’re getting there.”
I fell half a step behind Craig, our feet tapping against the sidewalk in an uneven rhythm. His shoes went more of a tap tap, and mine had a swishing shuffle to them. Over our beat, the birds sang, the insects buzzed, and the wind whispered.
Before, silence had been a rare gift, stolen in the slivers of morning after the sun rose but before breakfast. Outside of that… well. Brothels were full of the sounds of sex and power, which in my experience were mostly one and the same. Even when I wasn’t being forced to submit myself, I couldn’t escape the sounds of it all around me. The thin walls, so effective at trapping me inside, offered little protection. Silence had been my comfort. My refuge.
Since leaving that hell, I’d come to learn silence could feel… uncomfortable. Heavy. Awkward.
Craig hadn’t put his headphones back on, and I couldn’t hear the music either. Was I supposed to say something? Was it my turn to continue the conversation?
“How long have you been here?” I finally blurted.