For honor. For the future.
They were the words I lived by. The ones that had won me the election. They had earned me a seat amongst the country's leaders. They had kept the public's trust me in. But they were all lies.
Honor had left a long time ago...
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This place stunk.
No—it reeked.
Not in a foul sort of way, though, there was that kind of stench lingering in the air as well.
The room we stood in had a far different smell, more suffocating as it overwhelmed the tight space, more menacing.
I glanced at the reporter as she talked, her long nails brushing her glossy auburn hair over her shoulder, one hand on her hip, the other motioning around the room. Her painted lips were moving, a practiced empathetic frown gracing the lines of them, yet for some reason no sound seemed to be coming out. In fact, the entire space seemed dulled of any noise, save for an incessant ringing that had begun in my head the moment we'd stepped foot past the doors to this godforsaken place.
My fingers balled into fists at my sides and I swallowed past the knot that had begun to tighten my throat. I could feel my anxiety growing. It had been building since the interview started, festering until I was sure I would implode as I stood in the shadows of the dank room, waiting for whatever question would be asked next.
I couldn't understand how the omega who stood next to me, so straight-backed and professional as she spoke, could be so unaffected by a place such as this. Couldn't she feel the atmosphere—wasn't she at all affected by the resonating memories of what transpired here?
She paused, and I pressed my lips together, cursing myself for not being able to keep it together—for barely hiding the tremors that shook each inch of my body.
No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn't ignore the denseness within air, the putrid feeling of helplessness it created. The ringing in my ears had intensified into deafening screams, hollow and bloodcurdling, and as real as the woman who stood next to me. Everything felt tight, too crammed into this tiny space. My body was on fire, burning with an untouchable itch, desperate to have it scratched.
I swallowed again, nearly choking at the dryness that lingered on the back of my tongue.
Around me the peeling mold-ridden walls felt as if they were closing in on us as we stood huddled within the center of the tiny room. The windowless door was ajar letting in a subtle breeze from where the front entrance of the building stood open, yet the atmosphere felt stagnant. It was as if this space was stuck in the past—stuck in a time when said door was never opened, always kept under lock and key with a guard standing close by, a gun in one hand, the other on his hard cock.
I could practically hear the sound of a zipper being pulled down, rough grunts echoing down the lengthy corridor, spit and friction leaving a foul stench as he finished with a growl.
My fingers pressed tightly into my palms, nearly breaking the skin as I tried to contain the storm I felt raging within me, twisting and turning in a chaotic myriad of contradicting emotions, locking me into a time when the hit of those alpha pheromones was with the only thing that kept me alive—the only thing I craved for, breathed for, fucking lived for.
