The Unwanted Omega

Andrea never imagined she'd hear her destined mate utter, "I could never love you!" She laughs, a hollow sound devoid of humor. The words are as piercing as the first time she heard them. She finds herself laughing because there's nothing else she can do. She sighs, her breath fogging up the grimy glass in front of her, hiding whatever is beyond the tiny window. The cottage, long forgotten and neglected, is barely livable. It's been ages since it had a living occupant before Andrea, and she's far from uncovering its mysteries, like the locked closet she hasn't dared to open yet. Despite its shortcomings, it's the closest thing Andrea has to a home. It's isolated from the pack and mirrors the emptiness in her heart. The hurtful words endlessly echo in her mind, gnawing at her sanity like a relentless beast. If she listens carefully, she can hear the sounds of celebration from the packhouse. She can only imagine the festivities happening there. She gazes blankly through the misty window, tracing shapes in the condensation. If the window was cleaner, she might see the small clearing outside, surrounded by ancient trees older than the pack itself. She hasn't ventured outside in days, so she relies on her senses to tell her about the weather. She begrudgingly acknowledges the sounds of celebration are for the engagement party. She's still numb, and they're still joyful without her. She feels utterly worthless. "I could never love you!" She rubs her eyes until she sees stars, her heart begging the Moon Goddess to silence the voice in her head. She understands, they will never love her. Andrea can't even find it in herself to love her own being. It shouldn't be this painful; it's not like these words are new to her. She heard them a lifetime ago, yet nothing has changed. "I could never love you!" Yes, she's heard that before. At an age when no child should ever have to endure those words, especially not from the object of their embarrassingly massive crush. Kael's image surfaces in her mind, uninvited, but she lets the memory unfold, convincing herself it won't cause her pain again. She can't resist. In this memory, he's just twelve. His face is still soft and round, his cheeks flushed with excitement, his head leaned close to hers as if confiding a monumental secret. "Alphas find their true mates when we're twelve," he declares, wearing it like a badge of honor. "You guys only find out when you're eighteen!" "I know that," Andrea retorts, feeling somewhat defensive because every wolf knew that. She may not be the brightest wolf, but she knew that. "Are you trying to show off or something?" she counters. He laughs, his eyes sparkling with innocence. "No way. My dad would kill me. He says an Alpha is above that kind of stuff." "Oh, I guess that's why I saw you picking your nose during recess last week." She watches his smile fade into a scowl and has to restrain her laughter. "You promised not to tell anyone!" He indignantly waves his little finger in her face. "You pinky swore!" Andrea chuckles, her fingers playing with the end of her ponytail. "I thought Alphas were 'above' that kind of stuff?" He playfully growls at her, devoid of any real aggression. Not that a twelve-year-old wolf could do much harm, but still. "You're so annoying, you know that?" he grumbles, kicking at a patch of grass near his feet. She shrugs. "You should respect me more. I'm gonna be Alpha someday." Andrea snorts and playfully shoves him away with all her might. "You'll still be the same annoying pup who picks his nose when he thinks no one is watching." "Will not!" Kael retorts, his face flushing with indignation. To Andrea, it's adorable, like everything else he does. She doesn't understand why she teases him so much. She wishes she could just tell him how much she likes him. "Alright," she concedes, coaxing him to sit back down on the grass beside her. "So, you're meeting your mate soon?" The mention of his mate instantly lifts his mood. His scowl evaporates, replaced by a giddy excitement. "Yeah, my 'fated' mate," he confirms, nodding eagerly. "I can't wait to meet her. I wonder what she's like." "What she's like?" Andrea repeats, feeling a pang of inadequacy. "What do you mean?" His cheeks turn a shade pinker, suddenly bashful. He stumbles over his words. "Y-you know, what she looks like, if she's funny, and strong?" He must be joking. He has to know how much Andrea wants to be his mate. Moon Goddess, she wants it to be her so desperately. She feels her hands clench into fists, gripping the light fabric of her dress tightly. Andrea has had a crush on Kael for as long as she can remember. She's wanted to be his fated mate since they learned that Alphas find their mates as early as twelve. As each year passed, his twelve birthday loomed closer. She secretly prayed it would be her. Now they're both twelve and he's waiting. Could it be her? She can't help but wonder. "Maybe she has really pretty eyes," he muses, his own eyes distant as he imagines. "I bet she's really pretty, you know?" His words don't suggest he's considering Andrea. Would she be so terrible as a fated mate? She might not be exceptionally beautiful or strong, but she could be. She still has time to train hard, perhaps learn how to enhance her looks or master makeup. "Maybe she's like, really cool too," Kael muses, gazing at something Andrea can't see. His green eyes sparkle with a light she wishes was for her. She wonders what her name is. "What if it's me?" The words slip out before she can stop them, and she immediately wishes she could take them back. But now the question hung in the air between them. "What if it's you' what?" Kael asks, looking genuinely puzzled. Seeing his confusion, Andrea wants to kick herself. But the question is already out there. There's no point in making it weirder than it already is. "What if I'm your fated mate, Kael?" she asks him seriously. "What if it's me?" Kael stares at her for a long moment, his lips slightly parted and his eyes blinking in surprise. And it hurts. It hurts because she can see the rejection in his eyes before he even speaks. "What?" he laughs, a startled sound that cuts deep. "You can't be my fated mate." She hates how his words make her feel. She hates the way her stomach churns and her throat tightens. The way her claws itch to scratch against her own skin. "Why can't it be me?" she asks, her voice barely a whisper. "I could never love you!" He's laughing, but there's nothing joyful about the sound. She feels like she's going to be sick. "Not like that. You're my friend. You're like my sister, Andrea. It would be so weird if we were fated mates, right?" Nausea rises in her throat, embarrassment and shame clawing at her insides. She's going to be sick. "Y-yeah, haha," she manages to stammer out. It would be easier to laugh it off, even if it hurts. "That would be so weird. Gross, right?" "Absolutely," Kael chuckles, his shoulders bunching up as if the idea of them as fated mates is utterly repulsive. "We would have to do things like kiss. That would be so disgusting!" "Extremely disgusting," Andrea murmurs, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. "You're hilarious, Andrea," he comments, giving her shoulder a friendly nudge. "We could never be mates." With a dismissive laugh, Andrea finds herself gazing at her reflection in the murky window, the memory fading like wisps of smoke from her grasp. Uncherished. Unwanted. She feels as if she's been in this state her whole life. She can't remember a time when she felt a sense of belonging, particularly as an Omega wolf. Having a destined mate who rejects her seems to be in line with the story of her life. She's likely destined to live out her days in this run-down cottage, in solitude. The numbing sense of emptiness is creeping back, threatening to swallow her whole. She needs to experience something, anything, before she's consumed by the hollow feeling inside her. A chill sweeps down her spine, spurring her to stand. She craves something more, something at will allow her to feel. Anything. She heads to the kitchen and forcefully pulls open the top drawer. After weeks of struggling with it, the swollen wood has finally worn down enough to open more smoothly. She pauses, her gaze fixated on the knife shimmering in the dim light seeping through the shutter cracks. It's been some time since she last used it to... experience something. But anything, even agony, is preferable to the gaping emptiness inside her. She grasps the handle, which is cold and smooth in her hand. The edges are worn from years of use. She needs to be cautious; the engraving is nearly faded. She traces her thumb over it, the indentations almost smooth under her touch. She sighs and flicks the switchblade open, her reflection glaring back at her in the steel before she brings the blade down. As familiar as the feeling of sunlight on her skin, warmth trickles down her arm and finally... She can draw a breath again.