Page 12 of Knot Your Pucking Secret

Feel.

What a stupid fucking word.

As though years of anger, violence, and survival can somehow be wrapped up in one neat little emotion. Like there’s a label capable of making sense of years spent clawing my way through life. I don’t know how I feel. I know how to fight. I know how to survive. I know how to bury every ugly thing that’s ever happened to me until it festers so deep inside me that it becomes part of who I am. That’s what I know. Feelings? Those have always come second to survival. If I had to narrow it down to one word, though.

Coward.

I feel like a fucking coward.

Like I’ve lost the only good thing that was ever meant for me in this world and crushed it. The one thing promised to me by fate itself.

I ignored every instinct telling me to protect her and our future and turned it into something so unrecognizable that even my own pack can’t look me in the eyes anymore.

And for what?

Because I couldn’t get a hold of my emotions?

Because I couldn’t see past the hurt and the torment I had no control over and instead forced her to carry it?

My Omega.

The one person who was never supposed to hurt me like everything else in this world had. Instead, I was the one who hurt her. I wrapped my own hands around the best thing that ever happened to me and shattered it. Because I wanted to. My anger and need for revenge had consumed me and I was the weak fucking bastard who let it. And now, I pay for it with more suffering than I ever could have imagined.

Nothing in my life has ever felt as awful as it did the day I watched my Omega walk away. It broke something fundamental inside of me. Something that I fear will never be repaired. Not that there was much of me worth saving to begin with. I was already broken. Fractured beyond belief long before there was ever the possibility of Lennon. She shouldn’t have been left carrying the wounds that were never hers to bear. That was never what I wanted. Not deep down. I just couldn’t see it then. But intentions don’t mean a damn thing when the outcome is the same.

I had been so consumed by my anger that it blinded me. It didn’t matter who stood in front of me. Lennon. Holden. Dominic. Anyone who tried to tell me I was wrong became another obstacle to push past. A price I’ll spend the rest of mylife paying if that’s what it takes. Not just for what I did to my Omega, but for what I did to my pack as well.

Holden and Dominic are far too good to me.

They don’t deserve to be shunned because of the choices I made. They questioned me. They knew what I was doing was wrong and wanted to stop before it was too late. They at least had a moral compass where I did not. I don’t deserve either of them. I don’t deserve the love that comes with being in a pack, and I sure as shit don’t deserve their forgiveness. What I do know is that I will work my ass off to become someone who does. Even if that takes the rest of my life.

I need to fix my brain.

I need to figure out what the fuck is wrong inside my head, not just for them…for me.

I need to be better for me.

If I can’t do that, I’ll never stand a chance of being worthy of them.

“Part of me is glad that I don’t have to worry about hockey, at least for the meantime, but another part of me is…” I trail off, trying to find the right words for what it is I am feeling.

It's new. Actually stopping my thoughts long enough to put words to emotions instead of pretending like they’re not there in the first place, burying the ones I do recognize beneath the weight of my anger. Understanding more about thewhyinstead of obsessing over the vice. Trying to figure out what broke inside me before I let it keep breaking everyone else.

Something I should have been doing a long fucking time ago.

“...pained.”

Mrs. Kirkland nods, writing something down in her notepad. “That is understandable, Sasha. Hockey has been a fundamental part of your life. Not having that at the moment while you take your health leave would be difficult to navigate.”

She gives me her full attention. Her glasses have slipped down onto the tip of her nose but she doesn’t look down at me through them. She is kind. Far kinder than what I deserve.

“What you have suffered through during your thirty years of life is nothing minor, Sasha. You have faced demons that even the strongest of Alphas couldn’t bear.”

“But that doesn’t excuse what I did,” I murmur, my eyes suddenly finding my hands far more interesting.

“No, it does not,” she agrees. “But that does not mean that you don’t deserve grace as you navigate these times. You have chosen to seek help. Something others aren’t always prepared to do. The fact that you are here means there’s something good still inside of you, despite feeling the opposite.”

I look up at Mrs. Kirkland, a glistening of tears distorting her seated form. “So I’m not beyond redemption?”