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He sips his whiskey, and I wait for him to get to the point, since I already know all this.
"Fletcher is being… problematic."
I scoff. "Did you think it’d be so easy? One meeting where she finally comes around and suddenly she’s crossed over from the dark side?"
Sully winces, adjusting in his seat, the suit straining his biceps as he shifts. Man is a fucking boardroom executive trapped in a wrestler’s body. "No. I knew she’d be an uphill battle. Nurse fucking Ratched basically told Rubens there was no funding for medical care at outpost facilities, but that any omega was welcome to visit the OFA, no questions asked, and receive free medical care."
"The whole fucking point is that not all omegas want to walk into the OFA."
"Yeah. Rubens pointed out that the OFA relies on donations and receives federal funding. He’s hoping she’ll come around before we have to take it up the chain."
Phe and I have some harsh words for the OFA, but especially for Fletcher.
Nurse Ratched, a/k/a Madam Fletcher, is the director of the local facility and, in my humble opinion, completely fucking responsible for what happened to Alma, Phe’s twin sister and my highschool girlfriend, over ten years ago. We were never meant to go the distance, but I still loved Alma.
Alma liked me because all the other girls in school did. I liked Alma 'cause she was intense. Unlike Phe, Alma loved being an omega and played that shit up, but push came to shove, the girl would shove; she was from the streets just like the rest of us, and I loved that she couldn’t polish that attitude away no matter how hard she tried.
But Fletcher and the OFA didn’t just do her dirty, and I don’t give a fuck what they say, or how remorseful the Olcene Pack claimed to be after all that shit came to light last year, after those assholes abducted Phe and tried to force-bond her—they will burn in hell, because what they did to Alma, however they wanna dress it up, was assault, and Fletcher tried to cover it up.
Meanwhile, Phe’s trying to balance being angry for the cause and being angry for her sister, and the two missions don’t necessarily line up, so she's conflicted.
She’s the one with the connections to make real progress and changes at the OFA. Nurse Ratched, ahem, Fletcher, barely acknowledges any wrong doing with what happened to Alma. But aside from that, the OFA's curriculum, getting worse by the year, instills in omegas the belief that they’re somehow lesser if they don’t conform to the OFA standards.
I’m sick of it. I’m sick of seeing omegas come through these doors and look like shells of who they could be, because of how the propaganda impacts the way they're treated out in the world, whether they attended the OFA or not.
"Truthfully, our attention is split," Sully sighs.
I take a sip of the whiskey, registering his words. "Heat clinics?"
"Heat clinics," he confirms. It’s been Phe’s priority since shit went down last year and the Olcene Pack kidnapped her. Finding out they had been sneaking into heat clinics sent her into a spiral of rage.
Before Moneybags Sully showed up, Phe was hustling around our neighborhood, selling heat suppressants and quality scent-blockers to omegas on the streets, helping them avoid detection and stay out of heat clinics if they chose, because they all knew what could happen at a heat clinic.
An omega can’t consent once in heat, because they’re delirious, and an alpha sneaking into a clinic, which is supposed to be safe, and fucking them without their knowledge—without their fucking consent—is rape. There’s no other word for it. I'm with Phe; dealing with an omega's safety at the heat clinic should come first.
"She feels guilty OFA’s not her priority?"
Sully nods. "We’ll get to it. I think she thought since we're now working on this together, that just having money would solve the issue. I don’t think she expected it to be so difficult, to take so long. So, we’re focusing on cleaning up the heat clinics now, installing security," he nods toward Enzo, who doesn't say a word or look up, "and the mayor’s office says they’re doing what they can."
"You don’t believe them?"
"I believe they care what happens to omegas as much as Fletcher does." Interesting. There’s no doubt Fletcher cares about omegas, but it's not in a way that’s beneficial.
"I got you. Well, if you need anything…"
Sully tips his glass, swallowing the remainder of the contents. "I’m sure Phe will be up your ass if we do," he chuffs.
It’s true. I love the girl, but she can be a pain in the ass.
Chapter 3
Imogen
Restless and filled with nervous energy, my stomach churns, and I pace Ophelia’s cramped apartment, torn by the indecision of dragging myself back to my parents house and falling into the role I was born for or taking a brave step towards independence by dancing at a strip club.
These can’t be my only two options.
Sucking in a deep breath, willing my nerves and stomach to settle, I summon the courage to walk to Queenie’s and ignore the societal expectations set upon me, just by existing as an omega. Unfortunately, the apartment is too small to pace in search of clarity.
