Chapter 23 - Bolted Door
Back then, my youngest sister was too young to understand what we were talking about. She just clung to my neck and giggled as she nagged me for affection. Mother and Father were in shock for a while due to the fact that their only son had become an omega. I took a year off school so that I could become used to living as an omega, holed up in my house for its entirety.
It was painful in a whole other way. The mood around the house was gloomy, and whenever my parents saw me, they either averted their gaze or sighed. My younger sisters were my only comfort, but getting accustomed to my transitioned body was difficult all around. When I had finally become somewhat used to taking meds and calming down my symptoms, I was quite relieved to return to school.
However, that wasn’t the end. Since then, my mother began to obsess over the idea of getting me married. At first, it was asking me whether there was anyone suitable around me. This gradually became more outspoken, and it was now just outright coercion. My answer was the same every time, but I didn’t know how much more I could bear.
‘I suppose everyone gets married as a result of being pushed around.’
I spaced out and blinked my eyes a few times before shaking my head. I opened the refrigerator, only to find it empty. It was no surprise. After all, I hadn’t left my house for a full week.
I left the fridge door wide open and sat on the floor in front of it, spacing out a while more. Needless to say, this changed nothing.
Yesterday, while I was heating up the last of my stash of microwave food, I had told myself that I would leave for groceries tomorrow. The result of my procrastination was biting back at me now.
I dropped my head and sighed; however, I had no choice but to get out of the house and buy something, anything. It wasn’t like I could just stay inside my house for my entire life.
I decided to muster up my courage and go out. It was nothing, really. All I had to do was take one step. It was that one step that was the most difficult. If I just kept myself indoors like this, leaving the house would only become harder and harder. I had to keep practicing leaving the house. I made my decision and started moving.
It took me over an hour just to get ready and stand in front of the front door. I had taken my pheromone inhibitors, and packed a few tablets inside a folded paper, and put it in my pocket just in case. That way, if something unexpected happened, I could shove them into my mouth right away. I packed an alarm device, whistle, and a box cutter in case of an emergency. Only then did I feel a little more confident. I belatedly regretted not having bought a gun, but this was the best I could do for now.
When I finally opened the door after a few failed attempts, the sun was already starting to set.
A week went by since I had quit my job. I sat in the driver’s seat and slowly tapped on the handle as I waited for the light to turn green. I glanced at the door to make sure that it was locked.
‘Stop acting like an idiot. All of that’s in the past.’
I had considered signing up for therapy but soon dismissed the thought. I would get better over time. Moreover, I couldn’t possibly go to therapy without a job. How could I, when I needed an immediate plan for next month? I thought about my loans, living costs, and money to send back home, and I compared the amount to my bank savings. Just as I was getting a headache, the light changed.
That night, after I announced my resignation, I was somehow able to return home with the help of another staff member. To be honest, I didn’t remember much. As soon as I got home, I bolted every lock and even dragged a chair to block the front door. Gulping down some sleeping pills, I slept like a log. I finally woke up in the evening, fixed up some food to fill my stomach, and went back to bed.