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Harlow

Three Years Later

Friday Night

M y heart raced as I bolted through the streets of Ridgefield. At every turn I had to shove through a crowd of people spilling out of the bars and into the night.

I’d chosen the busiest part of the city so I’d be able to escape through the crowd if I needed to. Something that was working in my favor tonight.

“Stop!” The cop behind me was relentless. All this for a fucking sandwich I couldn’t even eat. I ditched it three blocks back, and I never expected the cops around here to have the endurance to keep this up.

Shadows ran beside me, urging me on and casting a creepy glow to the alley I turned into. Each slap of my sneakers against the pavement echoed in the quiet, giving me away with every inch I put between me and my pursuer.

“This way, little human,” Monty called out. His rasping voice echoed in my head, sending that familiar icy tingle down my spine and a blast of his stormy alpha scent. The voice slithered inside my veins, through every part of my body, consuming me completely.

I’d likely conjured him in the dark, twisted parts of my mind, but he was my alpha and I trusted him implicitly. Despite the constant mindfuck that Monty was, I regained my composure and turned the corner, biting back a scream as a new black mass formed.

It resembled a person in stature, but had no defining features to make sense of. Glowing, white eyes contrasted the darkness of the shadows he was made of. They spilled off him like rushing water, filling the ground and creeping closer to me, warding me away.

“Okay, not that fucking way,” I bit out, turning and heading in the opposite direction again.

“In here.” This time Monty’s voice came from a basement, the broken window just wide enough that I could slip through. The sirens getting closer were all the encouragement I needed.

The broken glass cut through my favorite hoodie, and I let out a soft whimper as I dropped down. I didn’t even have time to pick myself up off the floor before a group of cops came running down the alley.

There was nothing to hide behind in here so I rolled closer to the wall, squeezing myself against it and out of sight.

My heart pounded in my chest as the flashlight beams spilled through the open window. The shop owner had to have told them I stole money or something for this sort of response. This was too much manpower for a fucking sandwhich.

“She’s not here. Probably halfway across the city by now,” the cop told his partner as the beam of light fell away. I let out a relieved sigh as their footsteps receded.

“I bet you’re proud of yourself.”

The sound of Gran’s voice had me freezing. I hadn’t seen that monster of a woman in three years.

In fact, I no longer even lived in the same state.

Unfortunately, living in shelters and hostels to survive meant I didn’t get access to proper medication. Hence the frequent and terrifying hallucinations. At least, despite her voice, she wasn’t actually here. There was no overwhelming floral scent.

“Go away, you’re not real,” I ground out through clenched teeth, pushing away from the wall and heading across the room. “Monty, is it safe to leave?”

No response.

Again, I was alone with the shadows that plagued me. Why was Monty always leaving when I needed him the most? Some alpha…

“Fuck this,” I growled as an overwhelming anger took hold. With the stress, it didn’t even shock me.

High amounts of anxiety or stress always sent me into one of these waves. Uncontrollable anger or sadness, or whatever emotion felt like tormenting me at the time. They were all-consuming, pulsing stronger with each breath I took until I had to get it out.

One way or another.

My hand shook as I fought to dispel it before I gave myself away. The officers may have left, but I doubted they’d made it far.

All of that was forgotten at the sight of the crowbar resting on a table nearby. My hands wrapped around the cold metal before I even realized what I was doing.

A grin slid over my face as I smashed it into the brick pillar near me. The impact was so strong my teeth chattered, but I was already cocking my arm back and slamming it down again.

The chunks of brick and dust falling sounded like rain, and it had a cathartic effect. Soon, all thoughts were gone and all I was and all I knew was destruction. Tables, chairs, walls, crates, boxes, anything left here in this abandoned building was subject to my unwavering anger.

Each swing of my arm had the shadows in here with me moving further away until I stopped noticing them altogether.

“Feel better?” Monty’s voice cut through the silence as I stood amidst the wreckage. His voice was teasing as usual, but he always spoke gentler after these outbursts. At least my mind can be kind to me once in a while. My chest was heaving and my muscles ached, but all I felt was free and giddy.

“Yes, I do,” I answered as I threw down the crowbar. As I glanced around the dark warehouse, lit only by emergency lights and moonlight, I realized the shadows were gone.

A temporary reprieve from my personal plague.

“Is it safe now?”

He was circling along the windows, his eyes focusing back on me at the question. Monty was the only hallucination that talked back to me, I may as well take advantage of it.

“Is it ever?” His voice was mysterious as he stopped in front of me. He was easily seven feet of a monstrous nightmare. Two winding horns raised over his head and his glowing, blue eyes were focused on me.

His features were more defined up close. The shadows receded to display an open rib cage, blue fire burning bright where his organs should have been.

Monty’s bony face ended in a point, like a helmet and bone fused together to form his visage.

“No,” I admitted. “But I’d rather not be sent to a state facility. Give me the streets over prison any day.”

“Then have the streets.” He gestured to the door. I took a step forward before noticing that shadow figures now lined the walls once more as if to show me the way.

They were fairly harmless as far as my hallucinations went. They didn’t talk to me like Monty, and they didn’t have features like my more terrifying ones.

In this moment, it was as if Monty could control them.

That’s new.

There was no time to look into it more, I didn’t want to linger while I dissected my waking nightmares.

His footsteps followed behind me until I stepped out into the streetlights. The door closed with a thud behind me, and for a brief moment, I wondered what he did to pass the time when he wasn’t around.

Nothing.

You made him up.

You’re crazy, remember?

Fuck... I was right. Sometimes he felt so real that I had to remind myself he was just in my lonely mind, nothing more.

The walk to the hostel was full of terrifying figures and monsters again. The run-in with the fucking cops had my skin crawling to the point I wanted to scream.

Whatever reprieve I’d gotten from slamming the crowbar around was long gone. Now I was a walking ball of stress, and I longed for that comfortably numb feeling.

My key was in my hand before I even reached the front door, so I didn’t have to fumble with it or linger as I made my way to my private room.

Generally, hostel private rooms were expensive, but this place only had the small rooms, barely bigger than a closet, and they were cheap enough that even I could afford one.

For a few days at a time, at least.

The faded walls and lumpy mattress had never looked so damn inviting. I locked my door, stripped, then flopped onto the bed.

The ceiling fan whirred above me, pushing stale air around as I slowly gave into my exhaustion.

“You’re safe.”

The words were part of my daily mantra, and I clung to them with everything I had. Because things have and could be a whole lot worse.

This was my current home sweet home.

While the money lasted at least.

Harlow

Saturday Morning

“Wake up!” Monty’s shrill voice had me sitting up so fast my head spun.

“What the fuck, Monty?” I groaned, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes.

“You need to leave.” That was all he gave me before he was gone again, only a wisp of his scent left behind.

The whispering outside of my door was too close to miss the word ‘cops,’ and I hurried over, listening closely.

“They’re looking for her. She’s calling it in now. That crazy omega broke into a building downtown and did a ton of damage. The silent alarm went off and cameras had her face all over them,” they whispered.

That was enough for me to pack my backpack and push open my window. I’d been on this fire escape enough nights to know how to use it effectively.

I was out the door and halfway down the block before the cop cars were parking in front.

My time here was officially over. Onto the next city.

“Hey! Stop!” I turned. Sure enough, they were already running after me.

“Shit,” I cursed, putting everything I had into running around the corner and through the crowd, coming face to face with another cop.

“Stop!” the alpha bellowed. Even as I tried to run again, I was grabbed from behind, two officers slamming me to the ground hard enough that my teeth chattered at the impact.

The harsh treatment had every cut and bruise I’d gotten yesterday at the warehouse throbbing in response.

“What’s with this brutality?” I growled. I’d play the omega card if I thought it would work. To them I was a criminal.

“You ran from police and you’re resisting!” an officer shot back. He manhandled me out of my backpack and then quickly handcuffed me and hauled me to my feet.

Soon enough I was thrown into the back of a cop car, my Miranda rights only read to me as an afterthought.

Harlow

Four Weeks Later

The next few weeks were a whirlwind with the booking and arraignment, then my appointment with their court-appointed psychiatrist.

That was a journey all on its own.

The poor psychiatrist probably turned in her license after dealing with me. And, of course, Monty.

“Can you tell me about your hallucinations, Miss Devoe?” The psychiatrist’s voice was devoid of all emotion.

“What do you want to know?” I asked. My voice shook despite being careful. A tingling rolled down my spine before Monty was standing behind her. The smile that pulled my lips was unintentional but she noticed.

“What is amusing, Miss Devoe?” she prompted. I didn’t miss her glancing behind her chair uneasily either.

They probably thought sending in a beta would be soothing for me. Yet she’d need her own psych by the time this interview was done. She was already shaken and we’d just begun.

“She’s wound tighter than a fucking guitar string. Maybe she needs a good fucking to ease that stick out of her ass. I’d bet money that’s her kink,” he rambled.

“You don’t have money,” I answered with a snort before I’d realized what I’d done. But if they thought I was crazy... may as well give them a show.

“Who?” the psychiatrist continued on as I watched Monty crawl up the wall before dangling above her head so his shadows danced around her. His mouth hung open in an upside-down smile, and it looked so strange against the clinical whites of this room.

“No one.” I shrugged. “They don’t tell me their names.”

Clearly, that appointment went well, or not, depending on your take. But two weeks later, I was in court having to prove my innocence to a judge that looked like he wanted to give me a second chance.

“Harlow Devoe, due to the circumstance of your mental health, the store has decided not to press charges. Therefore, the court is turning you over to the state. As your system was free of drugs, you are being given the unique opportunity to get the medication and help you need. You will be assigned an inpatient facility, and a caseworker will be in contact to let you know more. Until then, I hope you consider the consequences of your actions and the leniency the court is showing you today.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, bowing my head so I appeared humble. Part of me was grateful I wouldn’t be going to jail, the other part of me knew this was a prison of another sort.

One that was probably worse.

Yet, some small part of me was curious if I’d actually get help at this facility, or if it would be another dead end for me. So far it had been one shitshow after another.

No one wanted to help a homeless omega with issues piled higher than a messy bun.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be coming with you.” Monty’s words were followed by maniacal laughter.

For once, I forced myself not to talk back to him. He narrowed his eyes at my lack of answer before disappearing completely as if I’d offended him.

“Come on, Harlow, let’s go,” my attorney told me, leading me out of the room and back to the bus that would take me to the county jail where I’d be waiting until a spot opened up.

As I stared at the barred window and the dirty streets passing by, I prayed to whatever gods were listening that this wouldn’t be my permanent home.