Page 32 of The Omega Trials: Part One

That is until I approach her bedroom and the fluttering returns tenfold. The styrofoam creaks in my hands as I stand outside her door. I swallow, and all I can think about is her eyes.

Gold but frightened in the bathroom mirror.

Broken and crying in my childhood window.

The images and accompanying shame gut me. I consider just leaving the food outside her door and walking away, but . . .gold but frightened, broken and crying . . .

My fist raps on the old wood door. My heart hangs mid-beat as I wait for her reply.

“Who is it?” she calls from the other side.

“Bishop.” I’m greeted by a long stretch of silence. “May I come in?”

“No, you may not,” she shouts, and my chest stings.

I try to explain, “I have—”

“You can punch a hole through this door, just like the other one, or you can leave me alone.” I think I catch a wobble in her voice, a crack in her fierceness . . .broken and crying . . .

Sighing, I set the container on the floor by the door and take a few steps back so she knows I’m leaving. “I’ll leave your leftovers right here,” I say as soft as I can while still being loud enough for her to hear me.

A weight of disappointment settles in my chest as I walk away, but it’s lifted by a small air of hope.Another time.

Another time, I will see her eyes blue, bright, and happy.

Sinclair

I don’t know where all these clothes come from, but everyday, Seventeen arrives with a new outfit. She comes in the morning to get me ready for the day’s unknown torment. I’m not used to it,and it chafes having someone wait on me hand and foot, but I’m not really in a position to complain. I came here with the clothes on my back and nothing more.

“Are you ever going to tell me your name?” I ask her as she deftly fastens the buttons on the back of today’s dress. I’ve been able to figure out that she’s undesignated and an indentured servant of the Echelon.

Her fingers are as light and soft as her voice. “My name is Seventeen.”

“That’s what your mom called you?” I push a little more, even though I can sense her discomfort. I saw how easy it was for girls at the Doll House to lose their identity, to let it slip away in favor of becoming a nameless omega. What I’m sure started as a defense mechanism turned into a complete erasure of who they are rather than just tucking it away for safekeeping.

“If I say yes, will you stop asking?” What could come off as a snarky remark instead is weighed down by desperation, like she’s begging me to stop picking at a wound trying to heal.

Wanting to respect what she’s chosen to protect for whatever reason, I opt for a complete conversation change. “Do you know what I’m doing today?”

The dress she brought isn’t a ball gown, but it’s nicer than the basic skirt and shirt from yesterday. Made of light blue-gray silk, it’s shapeless like a tunic with long and loose sleeves. The modest neckline isn’t high enough to cover my burn. But gratefully, it falls to my knees, easily covering the various hand and fingerprints bruised into my hips and thighs.

“Introductions,” she answers and immediately begins curling my hair into loose waves. “It’s the first day of the Trials— Well, technically the Trials began with the ceremony, but now it’sreallybeginning.”

It’s the first time she’s spoken like someone our age, rather than cowed to be proper and polite. Something about it makes me smile, which she notices in the vanity mirror.

She freezes, the curler in one hand and a section of my hair in the other. Her eyes shift uncomfortably like she said something she shouldn’t have. “What?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Nothing, I guess.” I leave it at that, and she hesitantly picks back up styling, her eyes cutting to mine suspiciously in the reflection every so often.

As she continues, I realize why I smiled.

For the first time in a while, it felt like talking to a friend.

Punishment and Respect

Ecker

The Great Hall seems smaller somehow without all the candles and silk nests. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a big ass room, but it doesn’t feel as intimidating as it did during the ceremony.

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