Page 5 of Conflicting Lyrics (Heartbreak Melody #1)

“Lucinda, it’s time for bed.” My mother’s voice sends a shiver of displeasure down my spine.

Sitting on the edge of my bed, I stare blankly out the window. It’s the position I’ve spent most of my summer in: numb, unfeeling, a compliant robot like they made me.

That night was both the best and worst night of my life, ending with not only the loss of the only person who ever made me feel any ounce of happiness, but also my parents dragging me to the church.

It was then that I truly saw the church for what it was. People made jokes that it was a cult, but I brushed them off, too blind to fully see the extent of their evil.

But when my parents dragged me into that building, threw me onto the stage in the front of the room, and told the pastor to do what they had to do to fix me, I knew that place was hell on earth.

They took me to a back room, strapped me to a bed, and ignored my pleading cries. They hooked me up to IVs and forced sedatives into my body to make me too out of it to fight back.

It’s been a month, and I’m still not fully sure what they did to me when I was passed out.

I was asleep more than I was awake. It was better that way because when I was awake, I was forced to listen to how I was sick and needed help.

That the things I’ve felt were the work of the devil, and I needed to repent for my sins.

There were too many hands on my forehead while words I didn’t understand were spoken, as if they could pray the gay away.

It doesn’t work like that. But they didn’t care.

Once they deemed me good enough to go home, I was forced to take pills. Pills that made me numb. I didn’t fight them on it; I didn’t have the energy to.

For the past two weeks, I’ve been locked in this house. Literally. My parents have arranged their work schedule so that someone is home with me at all times.

All the windows and doors have locks on them now, not only in my room but the whole house, and my bedroom door can now be locked from the outside.

At night, they lock me in my room, too afraid I’d find a way out.

They know they are wrong, it’s why they’re going through so much to make sure I’m doing what they want.

Saying nothing, I crawl into bed, pulling the blankets over me while still facing the window.

For the most part, I feel next to nothing, but any time I see my parents' faces or listen to the sound of their voices, I want to scream, to cry, to hurt them.

I’ve never been a violent person, even with everything they’ve put me through, but now?

I wished they would die. Because then I’d be free.

The light turns off, blanketing the room in darkness before the door clicks shut and the locks snap in place.

Silent tears spill down my cheeks as I close my eyes, praying I won’t wake up. It would be better that way.

Instead, I’m cursed with nightmares of her. The reason I call them nightmares is because they are a reminder of everything I’ve lost. My biggest mistake was not just saying yes, taking her hand, and letting her take me away from the true nightmare that plagued my life.

I’m haunted by her smile, her laugh, and the same vanilla cupcake scent that always seemed to comfort me.

I want to stay there with her. To lie to myself and pretend that my reality was the dream, and that they are real.

But life doesn’t work like that—especially not for me.

This unbearable ache in my abdomen pulls me from my sleep. Groaning, I wrap my hand around myself and roll onto my stomach.

My heart pounds in my chest as my body shakes, sweating like I’ve been standing under the hot sun for hours.

What is going on? Am I having some sort of bad reaction to the medication? Did I eat something that doesn't agree with me?

As I try to take a deep, calming breath, praying that it helps, I’m overwhelmed with the strong scent of lemon meringue pie.

Pressing my face into the pillow, I whimper as my body shudders, only to pop up into a seated position when I feel the gush of something wet between my thighs.

Ignoring the wave of nausea, I pull back the blankets to see what’s going on.

Did I piss myself? Or maybe started my period?

I turned eighteen the day I was released from their fucked up facility that they have in the back of the church. That meant that any day after, my designation would present itself.

Female Betas often found out when they got their first period. And while female Alphas got periods too, the way they knew their designation was by the way their bodies changed.

Same goes with Omegas.

For Betas, it was easy, simple. A little blood, some cramping, but nothing too serious.

Only, right now, the pain isn’t a little bit of cramping. It feels like someone is stabbing me in the gut with a blade over and over again. It’s a pain I’ve never felt in my life.

And the wetness between my legs isn’t me peeing myself, and it isn’t blood.

No, it’s something much worse.

“No,” I whimper, my breathing picking up, heart racing so fast I think I might pass out. With a shaky hand, I run my fingers through the mess and sob.

Slick. The white, almost clear substance was slick.

My parents made it their mission for me to know nothing about how Alpha and Omegas worked, saying it wasn’t any of my business because I was going to be a Beta.

Of course, Ally thought that was absurd and would often fill me in on the things she knew.

Like her mother’s story about when she presented as an Omega.

It’s something her mother told Ally to prepare her in case that day ever came for her.

She didn’t want her daughter to freak out or worry that something was horribly wrong.

Because in her house, it wasn’t. To most of the world, it wasn’t.

But in this house, it was as close to a death sentence as I’d get.

Ally’s mother’s story sounds a hell of a lot like what I’m feeling right now.

Omega. I know in the deepest part of my soul that I've presented as an Omega.

Even though I feel like death, my brain becomes the clearest it’s been in a long time.

I need to get out. I need to leave this house now and never come back because the moment my parents take one smell of me, I know I’ll never see the outside world again.

And I know that if that happens, I will do everything in my power to end my own life, because I’d rather be dead than live in a worse condition than I already do in this house.

Looking around the room, panicked, I try to think about what I’m going to do. It’s still early; the sun isn’t out yet. I could get out of here before they woke up and realize what I am. Hopefully, I’ll be long gone by then.

Only problem with that plan is that I’m locked in here like a prisoner.

Trying to ignore the agonizing ache in my stomach, I scramble out of bed on shaky legs. Tears stream from my eyes as slick drips down my thighs.

I slide my hands through my hair, grabbing at the strands as I stand in the middle of the room, thinking of what to do next.

Rushing over to my dresser, I quickly change out of my PJs and into some clean sweatpants, a T-shirt, and a hoodie. Next, I open my closet door, grab my old school bag, and start to pack it with as much as I can fit inside it.

I don’t have much that matters. No printed photos, no special items that hold sentimental value to me. I don’t own any makeup. Only a hairbrush. Grabbing that, I shove it into my bag, pausing when I see the bracelet sitting on my dresser.

With shaky hands, I pick up the bracelet and try to hold back a sob as I slide it onto my wrist. I was wrong. I do have something that means something to me. This was the only thing I own that I truly care about.

It's a braided best friends bracelet with a little daisy charm. I made them a few years ago. One for myself and one for Ally. Hers looked almost identical, except she had a little mic as her charm.

I’d worn mine every day until that night. I couldn’t leave it behind.

Snatching my sneakers from the closet floor, I slip them on and sling my bag over my shoulder.

Breaking down the door isn't an option. It’s too thick and would cause too much commotion.

My eyes flick over to the window. I might not be able to break the lock, but I can break the glass.

Looking around the room for something to use, my eyes land on the lamp on my bedside table.

Rushing over to it, I unplug it from the wall, then lay it on the bed as I pull the pillow case off my pillow and slip it over the bottom of my lamp.

Stepping in front of the window, I turn back to look at the door, swallowing hard.

It’s now or never. The moment Mom opens that door when she wakes up, my life will officially be over.

Not that it didn’t already feel like it was.

Turning back to the window, I take a deep breath and swing the lamp as hard as I can against it.

Thankfully, it only takes one hit for the glass to shatter. Dropping the lamp, I grab the pillow case and use it to pull at the broken glass, getting rid of enough of it so that I can slip through the window.

Throwing my bag out the window, it hits the ground with a thud. Next, I do my best to carefully squeeze my way out.

Just as my feet meet the roof, my door swings open.

My eyes snap over to my mother as she stands in the doorway, eyes wide as she takes everything in.

“Lucinda, what on earth are you…” Her face morphs into one of horror as my scent hits her. She knows . “No.” She shakes her head. “No. This can’t be. You can’t be!” she screams.

Not wanting to stick around to see what she does next, I let the adrenaline consume me and scramble down the roof, quickly rolling onto my stomach and dropping down to the deck with a hard thud.

The pain in my legs and ass doesn’t stop me from getting to my feet and running down the deck stairs over to my bag. Snatching it up off the ground, I race for the gate door.

“Lucinda!” my father’s voice booms. “Get back here, right now!”

I don’t listen, throwing the gate door open. I break into a run, using every ounce of strength I have in me to pump my legs as I take off down the back alley.

My name continues to be screamed, and I know they’re following me, trying to get to me.

If I get away, they know they will never see me again.

The church is able to do a lot, as long as it doesn’t disturb the community.

But the one thing it isn’t is above the law. And they know it.

The moment I tell the cops what my parents have done, they will be charged. Because they might think it is okay to do, even necessary in their eyes, but in the eyes of the law, it is illegal.

It's child abuse. And so much more.

As I round the corner, I nearly crash into a man who’s walking his dog.

“Woah there,” he says, steadying me on my feet. “Are you okay?”

“Lucinda!” Mom screams.

“No,” I sob out. “No, I’m not. They’re going to kill me.”

His eyes widen, darting behind me. “Come on,” he urges me, pointing to the house we are standing in front of.

I follow after him, rushing to his front door. He quickly gets me inside and locks the door.

My heart hammers in my chest, my lungs screaming for air as I take in heaving breaths. I feel like I’m going to pass out. The only thing keeping me going is the desire to live, the desire to be free.

Banging starts on the door, making me jump, a scream bursting free before I can stop it.

“What's going on?” A woman rushes down the stairs dressed in a nightgown.

“It’s the Carters,” the man grunts as he holds the phone to his ear. “By the smell of Lucy, I’m going to assume she just presented, and it’s not the designation they wanted.”

It isn’t until right now that I realize who these people are. This is Taylor and Marie, the young Omega and Alpha couple who live nearby. I’ve always seen them sitting on their porch and loved stopping to pet their adorable chocolate lab.

“Oh my goodness,” Marie gasps, hand flying to her mouth. “It’s okay, sweetie. You're okay.” She continues down the stairs, stopping when she gets to me.

I want nothing more than to believe her, but I'm not sure if I’ll ever be okay. If I’ll ever feel safe.

She wraps her arms around me, and I hug her back, letting the sobs break free as the banging on the door continues. My parents scream my name, demanding that I come outside.

No fucking way am I going anywhere near them again.

“Robby and Keith are on the way,” Taylor states, grabbing a bat that was leaning against the wall by the door. “Go sit down and wait,” he suggests, nodding towards the couch.

Wrapping her arm around my shoulder, Marie leads me over to the couch. I drop down hard, pulling my feet up and wrapping my arms around my legs, sobbing into my knees as pain and fear consume me.

I should have said yes. I should have taken her hand. I should have chosen her without any hesitation.

My parents are monsters and never deserved any ounce of love I had for them. A love that was long gone now.

“Robby and Keith are my other Alphas; they’re also police officers. They’re going to make sure you're okay. So are we. They won’t come anywhere near you, I promise.”

About ten minutes later, the banging on the door stops, and my name isn’t called again.

The sound of someone new shouting outside has my head snapping up.

“You're under arrest.”

“Oh, thank god,” Marie breathes out in a sigh of relief, her hand rubbing up and down my back. “They’re here.”

Taylor pulls back the curtains, checking to see what's going on in the front yard before turning to look at us.

“They’re in handcuffs and being taken over to the squad car. You're okay now, Lucy.”

I don’t believe him, I need to see it with my own eyes.

Lowering my feet to the ground, I get up and follow after Taylor as he opens the door and steps outside.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take in the scene before me.

Three cop cars are parked in the middle of the street, the lights on top flashing red and blue.

An officer approaches me and begins to speak, but I don’t hear his words as my eyes lock on the cars. They’re in there.

But what does this mean? Will they be charged and taken to prison? Or will the church do what they always do and fight to get them free?

Until I know they no longer have access to me, I won’t feel safe or free.

Another officer opens the back of the car that my mother is being held in. She looks up at him and pleads for him to let her go, that she hasn’t done anything wrong.

But when her eyes flick over, spotting me, that bullshit mask she holds in place slips.

Her face morphs into disgust. “You're an abomination!” she screams at me. “A vile creature. You should be put down like the dog you are! You’re dead to us, Lucinda, you hear me! You’re no longer a daughter of mine. A disgrace and a pathetic excuse of a child.”

The officer closes the door, cutting off her hateful words.

They didn’t hurt me. Her opinion of me doesn’t matter. Anything I felt for them died the moment they shoved me into their car the night I lost her .

Only when I watch the cars leave with my parents inside them do I allow myself to fully breathe.