Page 43 of The Order

“Katiana, there was an incident!” he yells, nearly dropping his phone once he realizes I am standing in the hallway. I lower my eyes at him, feeling a thought pass over my mind, clawing its way from the deepest part of my memories.

If you regulate all the Officials, did you know what they would do to that Untouchable? What are you doing when you say you are “helping” the Unfortunates?

"Forest,” my father says, touching his chest with a laugh. “You startled me. I wasn’t expecting you back so early,” he begins. My mother's head pops out from their bedroom door, staring at both of us with wide eyes. “Why are you back so early?” my father questions, working to hide his phone behind him in his back pocket.

“Were you on your way somewhere?” I ask, completely deflecting the line of questioning he was ready to throw my way.

I know how rough I must look to both of them. Dirtied clothes and scraggly hair, all tied together with scuffed knuckles that Fallan had missed amid his threat. I keep thinking about how far away his sector is. Though I’ve never been to the Unfortunate sector, it is no short walk from where he stopped, and given the tensions created at the screening, I would assume Officials are on the prowl for deviants more now than ever. I haven't even started to pull apart what I know attacked the girl. The Officials seemed hopelessly unphased by her mention of a creature we have been told nearly ended the human race.

The Shifters.

“No,” my father finally says, crossing his arms, looking me over head to toe. My mother presses her head to the doorframe, closing her eyes as she listens to the interaction unfolding before her. Her hair runs down her back, covering her arms and front in beautiful waves. A white nightgown is hugging her, holding itself close to the body I now see shows every sign of stress one can have. Her eyes have circles underneath that are much darker than they were a week ago. As she breathes, I can see her ribs press to the gown's material. She looks exhausted, wobbling from side to side as she tries to stay awake.

“You told Mom there was an incident before you noticed me. What kind of incident?” I question, pushing him further. His pocket buzzes again, notifying him of the new messages he’s getting.

“Nothing I don’t normally deal with. Just an altercation near the school,” he pauses, leaning in closer, lowering himself down further to scan my face. “You didn't see anything tonight, did you?” my father questions, tapping his finger on his leg as he anticipates an answer.

“Andrew, that’s enough. You’re needed elsewhere, and she is exhausted,” my mother growls, hitting her hand against the doorframe. Her sleep-filled eyes finally open up again.

My father steps back, eyeing my mother before looking toward the front door.

“Maybe you're right…. Should I expect to see your brother home soon?” my father questions. I shake my head at him, wondering if he notices that I can see through his blatant lie like a window. If this is how easily he is willing to lie to me, what else has he kept quiet about in the name of his work? Is it even his choice?

“You can ask him when you see him. He's still at the school,” I start, seeing panic flash over my father's face. “But I’m not feeling the best, and I’d like to get some sleep, so if you'll excuse me,” I continue, moving past my dad only to feel his hand wrap around my arm as aggressively as Fallan.

“You'd tell me if something was happening that I needed to know about, right?” he questions. I stare at him, pulling my arm away with a scoff.

“Someone is always watching,” I start, pointing to the numerous cameras in our living area. “You don’t need me to tell you anything. You already know,” I whisper back, continuing my pace forward and closer to my bedroom door.

“That wasn’t a yes or no, Forest,” my father says, continuing his stare toward the front door. My mother watches us, waiting for me to give him the answer he wants.

“Yes, Dad. Do I even have a choice?” I question, grasping my handle and waiting for him to say something else.

He says nothing before moving forward and closing the front door with a slam.

By some miracle, I urged my exhausted mother to return to bed despite her wanting to bug me about my rudeness toward my father. She didn’t put up much of a fight once her head hit the pillow. I stayed with her, ensuring she was covered and warm until her grasp on my hand became light and weak. With a click, I shut off the lamp on my nightstand, allowing myself to be alone with my thoughts.

I tear my clothes away, shoving them as far down in my hamper as I can. I force the face of the clock down. Despite the promises that they never use the cameras to watch us in our bedrooms, I now have no faith in them. Acknowledging the scratches working up my stomach from the graveled ground and the few faint bruises left on my wrist from the Official’s foot, I quickly pull on an oversized white sweater, smelling the strong scents of linen in the warm material. My pants are next. A pair of soft leisurewear pants cling to my legs. My knees are red from where I met the ground so many times today, and my mark is fully covered.

I let my hair fall down my back, looking at the numerous gray bits trying to peek through the brown. Normally, I would have torn them away, not waiting for my mother to dye them for me. I leave them this time, even looking over a few brighter pieces.

A single pill sits on my nightstand. This is my mom’s way of telling me she no longer trusts me to be taking the doses as regularly as she’d like. I grasp the pill, wanting nothing more than to put it between my lips and make the blackouts and pain stop. I raise it to my mouth, thinking over the blissful euphoria of being entirely normal. No headaches or unexplained blackouts, just school and wondering what to wear on my Judgment Day. The pill presses to my lips, ready to explore my stomach and mind.

“Fuck,” I whisper, pulling my hand away from my mouth and marching into my bathroom. I throw the pill into the toilet, feeling my hands shake out of frustration. Forcing the lid shut, I flush away the small bit of sanity with a slam of my hand into my leg to ease my mind. I crouch down to my knees, shaking my head at my inability to decide what is best.

“I don’t want things to feel so empty again,” I whisper, hitting my thigh repeatedly to calm my mind.

A silent patter hitting the ground outside my window stops my assault on my leg. A breeze moves through the bathroom. The tranquil smell of rain fills my nose, relaxing my whole body as I drive out my frustrations, listening to the increasing amount of rain caressing the side of my house. A small roll of thunder follows flashes of lightning in the clouds outside. My mother must have opened the window to let in the fresh air today and forgotten to close it. I look down at the bathtub before glancing at my bedroom.

Tearing away the sheets from my bed, I drag them along the floor with a few pillows, moving closer to the large bathtub. I fill the tub with the blankets from my bed, positioning my pillows against their sides, giving myself a place to lie. Taking the heavier blanket, I pull it over my body and allow my head to press into the soft feather pillow, continuing to let the sounds of the rain soothe me.

I take a deep breath, feeling today's events melt away as I indulge in the one place where I can listen to the rain without the house alerting my parents of an open window. This window’s broken sensor has proved to be one of the biggest comforts when I needed it.

For once, my thoughts were quiet, leaving me with nothing but the bit of peace the storm had brought me.

Chapter fourteen

Forest

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