Their Runaway Omega

Chapter 10

-Anastasia-

I walked into my dark home. I was completely drenched once more, but I didn’t care. I just wanted to curl up in bed and forget everything. But as I stepped in, I heard the strangest thing—humming. I grew still right away, my heart pumping with adrenaline and fear, because humming could only mean one thing.

You would think I hated seeing my mother lying on the couch crying every night and day, but I hated it even more when she had one of her ‘good days’ because those days she forgot my dad was dead, and that he wasn’t coming home. I always had to tell her the truth, and it never ended well.

“Michael?” she called, and I remained frozen, unable to move. I hoped if I didn’t make a sound, she wouldn’t come looking, but my luck wasn’t with me.

My mother appeared in the hallway where I stood, a smile on her lips, and she had donned her old apron. She was cooking?

“Oh, Ana, you’re home. Come help me,” she said, waving me along.

I gulped, fearing what I might find in the kitchen. I carefully walked over the creaky floorboards, entering the kitchen. My mother was moving around the kitchen, but there was no food. She was cutting air, frying nothing without any electricity.

The only reason we ate was because I brought food from the pack house. We couldn’t cook anything, but in her mind, she was. She was so frail that even moving the pan made her arms shake. Sometimes I forgot how thin she had gotten, and I wondered how long it would be before she couldn’t move from the couch.

“Um, Mom?” I called.

“Ana, cut the vegetables,” she instructed and pointed to the empty old cutting board that was bent because no one had been taking care of it. On it laid a big cutting knife.

“Oh, um, I think we don’t need vegetables,” I said and carefully walked over to the knife, trying to discreetly put it away. However, my mother was faster than I expected. She reached out, grasping my wrist and tightening her hand around it.

“Ana, I said cut them,” she ordered. I slowly let the knife go, and she turned from scary to smiling again. “Your dad will be home soon.”

It was always very disturbing to see my mother like this. She was an Omega herself, who had chosen my father as her protector and mate, and while the power technically laid with an Omega to choose her mate, she showed me what my fate would be if I ever did. Never, I promised myself before I acted like I was helping her with the food.

“How was your day?” she inquired.

“Good,” I whispered.

“Yeah, did you play with your friends?”

I sighed, hating this question. In her mind, my dad wasn’t dead yet, so I should be around 11 or 12 years old.

“Um… yes,” I said, the hairs on my body rising because this felt so disturbing.

“Oh how nice. What did you do?” she asked.

“We… We…” I didn’t even know how to act like a child anymore. I had forgotten so much because it had been overshadowed by a dark cloud.

However, I didn’t get to answer her, because my mother certainly perked up. “Oh, did you hear that? Must be your dad.”

She walked out of the kitchen, and I watched her leave, only for her to come back with a perplexing look on her face. I knew her fantasy world was slowly breaking. It always did when she realized my dad wasn’t coming home.

“I don’t understand,” she whispered, looking around the old house, one of the windows in the kitchen covered with a sheet I had hung up.

“What?” I asked.

“I was sure I heard him come home.”

“Um… Maybe he is on his way?” I suggested.

“No, he is supposed to be home now. He always is.”

I gulped, feeling my throat tighten as I looked at the broken Omega in front of me. I barely recognized her as my mother. That woman died with my father.

“L-Lock the door, Ana,” she told me.

“What?”

“I said lock the door! Someone is coming.”

I didn’t remember her ever telling me to lock it. That made no sense. What was she suddenly scared of?

“Ana, lock the door and go to your room!” she yelled.

I stared shocked at her, but she grew panicked and ripped the apron from her body before she suddenly came to me, grabbing the knife from my hands and facing the doorway to the kitchen.

“He is coming,” she whispered mysteriously.

“Mom? What are you talking about? You mean Dad?”

“Your dad is not here. He is too late.”

I stared confused at her back, not understanding what was happening in her mind. Normally on these days, she would cry and scream when she realized my dad wasn’t coming home, but this time she acted differently. She was terrified. I reached out to try to calm her, but she hissed and pushed me back, making me trip because I hadn’t been prepared.

“I said run to your room!” she screamed at me before storming from the kitchen.

“Mom!” I yelled, jumping up from the ground and hurrying after her.

The door was wide open, and I heard her letting out screams and calls for help.

“Mom!” I shouted after her again, storming out of the house to find her on the old gravel driveway, fighting the air while the rain poured down on her.

“You will not hurt me again!” she screamed, wielding the kitchen knife around, screaming at nothing.

“Mom! Mom, what are you doing?” I asked, hurrying down the little steps to the porch and running over to her.

“You will not touch me again!” she yelled, cutting the air in front of her.

I reached out, grasping her arm, but it made her believe I was the enemy. She turned around, slicing me, cutting my upper arm and making me hiss as I stumbled back, staring at her in pure shock. This seemed to wake her, as she saw what she had been doing, and she lowered her arm slowly, the knife poised to strike.

“Ana?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah?” I replied, terrified.

She blinked confused, then let the knife slip from her hand. It clinked against the ground as she lowered. Then she began looking around, searching like she always did.

“Michael?” she whispered and began walking around in front of me. “Michael!”

I stared in absolute bewilderment, unsure what to do. I didn’t get this situation at all. What was happening to her? She had never reacted this violently. I glanced at the knife on the ground, the rain washing away my blood before I leaned down and picked it up.

“Michael?” she called.

I didn’t know what to do. Did I try to touch her again? Did I let her stay in the rain?

“M-Mom?” I carefully shouted.

She turned around, gazing confused at me, as if she didn’t recognize me.

“Mom, it’s raining. Don’t you want to go inside and wait for Dad?” I asked.

My mom seemed to consider it before she looked around the area, obviously trying to remember what she was doing.

“Is he coming home soon?” she asked.

“Y-Yeah, he told me so.”

“When?”

“He came by school. He said he would be home a little later,” I lied.

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah. So how about we go inside and wait? It’s cold out here.”

“Yes, it is very cold,” she agreed and walked over to me.

I gave her a little smile and wrapped my good arm around her, leading her inside.

“Why are you carrying a knife?” she asked.

“You don’t remember?”

“What?” she questioned.

“We were cooking,” I replied.

“Oh, how nice.”

I sighed, letting her step inside first before I followed her and closed the door behind us. I focused on my mother when I was inside, seeing her go back to her usual spot on the dirty old couch in the living room. The moment she laid down she started to cry, remembering my dad wasn’t alive anymore.

I walked over to her, grabbing the blanket that had been thrown to the ground and put it over her before I went to put everything away in the kitchen. Next, I went to the bathroom to find something to wrap my arm in. I took off most of my clothes, except for the bra and underwear. I turned my arm, looking at the wound in the dim light from the world outside.

It was bad, blood sliding down and the wound was red and swollen already.

“Wonderful… I just can’t catch a break today,” I sighed.

I did my best to clean the wound with some disinfection I had. Then I bandaged it, but I had no painkillers and the wound was throbbing. I didn’t have any strength to do anything about it, so instead I went to my room, falling down on the bed and groaning loudly. I wrapped myself in the blanket, trying to chase away the cold as I slowly fell asleep.