Page 5 of The Order

"Only thirty minutes left on your shift; maybe you can take out another Marked and an Unfortunate all at once," Adam sneers, shutting the door with a thud.

My breath shudders. My mind reflects on the girl's parents and what they have unknowingly lost. Years of memories of a child they had raised and nurtured, stolen in a mere few moments with a chip they have been told is there to monitor their health.

A whole life stolen from their minds, as if their daughter never even existed.

"Doctor Blackburn, your final patient is on their way in," the intercom says in a loud, scratchy tone, forcing me to focus on the room, allowing my mind to retrace the chaos that had ensued.

"This is the only way," I remind myself, working to rearrange my items back into optimal appearance. The knob slowly turns once more. A young brunette boy in tattered clothing meets my line of vision. His toothy grin grows wide while mine stays smothered by the weight of my actions.

"It has to be," I finish, shoving down the large lump in my throat and forcing on a new pair of gloves.

Chapter one

Forest

Thesunrisebringsona mirage of bright colors that unfurl across my bedroom floor in varying hues of pink and orange. Despite the drawn curtains, each ray of sunlight blankets the room in all the right ways, as if it mocks the countless dull, gray tones encasing nearly every item in the space. I watch the rays dance over my dresser before landing on my soft white comforter. The sun's heat touches my face as the cool August air slips through a crack in my bedroom window I had created the night before. A perfectly ironed uniform lays peacefully unbothered on my dresser. Its black bottoms and white blouse only add to the bleakness of the space around me. Still, I silently thank my mother for always finding the time to lay out my school clothes the night before despite how tired I know she is from her night shift at New Haven Medical.

I stretch out, cracking my back as I rise to a seated position in my bed, and my hair slips into my mouth as the fog of sleep begins to leave my bloodshot eyes.

"Mandatory wakeup for Forest Blackburn,"my clock's annoyingly robotic voice says in a tone that jolts me awake entirely. Its screen flashes, waiting for me to confirm I have heard its message, as if I have the option to decline.

"I was already up, you asshole," I whisper, angrily hitting the green check, confirming I am up to anyone and everyone in this house. I see the other members of my family's icons all checked green. As usual, I am the only person in my family who has woken up at 6:00 am. Everyone else wakes up nearly an hour before we are regulated to do so.

"Negative statements against New Haven regulated home care aids is a low-level violation. Confirm this message has been received," the clock says, urging me to let out a small groan of discomfort. I press my hands to my face, raising my middle fingers in the space around me. Hiding the vulgar gesture from the clock's camera, I flash it a wide smile.

"Confirmed," I say in the fakest tone possible. The clock's screen goes black as it finally decides to leave me alone.

My room is nothing special. It's a space filled with perfectly fitted furniture made of sleek aspen wood. Each wall is painted in a calm gray tone, the floor composed of birch wood boards, all sanded to perfection. Every nook and cranny of this room is within Sanctum regulations. Even the drawings I had once plastered on my wall are now crammed away in one of my many sketchbooks shoved under my bed. One look from one of my dad's co-workers, and they were torn away from the wall.

Gray paint streaks the front of my dresser and doors. Every article of clothing I own is neatly tucked away. I’ve got nothing but school clothes and a few leisure day outfits. It’s insufferable wearing the same things year-round. Sometimes I envy the Unfortunates’ tattered and patched clothes.

At least they get some variety.

I stare at the few bits of jewelry I have within regulation. Two pairs of earrings and one necklace are all I own, and even then they are only permitted for formal events. With a roll, I move away from my bed and closer to my dresser. The floorboards creak beneath my feet, shivers running down my spine. My hands fiddle with the uniform my mother laid out, dragging it closer toward me.

"I wonder what I'm wearing today," I whisper sarcastically, tossing the clothes on the bed.

The same black slacks and white blouse I wear daily sprawl before me. A gray tie, white socks, and a black belt all look as unappealing as the day before. I run my hands through my mess of hair, feeling it brush below my lower back. The brown curls stick together as a single gray hair pokes out in my vision. With a quick snap, I pull away the stray hair. My mother would have a fit if she knew my gray was already starting to show.

With a gentle toss, I pry away my sleepwear, letting it land in the nearby hamper. The air from my window caresses my body as I change, my eyes avoiding my hip entirely, ignoring the dreadful mark I always do my best to cover up. I feel the gnarled skin beneath my fingertips while I pull up my pants. The birthmark lingers on my skin, standing out in a way most Unfortunates do. Ugly and unnatural. My mom says it's best to ignore it’s there, and seeing as no one else seems to have one, I have always found it easy to keep my mouth shut about it.

Slowly, I pull over the white blouse and button it up to my neck, fiddling with the wire of my bra as I position my breasts in a comfortable spot. With three tucks, my shirt is in the waistband of the slacks, my hands yanking on the belt to give myself some shape in this outfit. I let the tie hang loose around my neck, hoping someone else would try and tackle it for me. With a large wooden brush, I mangle my hair, allowing myself to pull it back into a ponytail, keeping every stray hair away from my face.

In addition to the uniforms, hair and what we may do with it is one of the other regulations the New Foundations Academy implemented. No hairstyles other than a ponytail, bun, braid, or straight down our backs are allowed. No makeup or distracting facial enhancers are allowed anywhere near your face. Vanity derives from many things, as does lust in young men for something as simple as a pair of earrings. All potential distractions have been eradicated.

Sometimes, it's hard to imagine anyone wearing anything remotely distracting. In history class, our teachers tell us of the vanity that used to consume humans before the nuclear wars. They call it a poison that infiltrated the minds of many. Part of the coding behind our chips ensures that trivial things like vanity and jealousy are almost non-existent.

Running my hands over my jewelry before pressing my fingers to the small necklace around my throat, I feel its small silver charm rub between my fingers before tucking it beneath my shirt. I've never been caught wearing it, regardless of it being against regulation. At times, it feels like my good luck charm.

I take one final glance at my figure in the mirror above my dresser. The uniform clings to my thin body, and I notice how the supple curve of my breasts and legs fill the material just right. For a few years, nothing fit me well. It's all hazy, but, after a summer of puberty and plenty of supplements given to me by my mother, I finally started fitting into the clothes in ways I always wished I would. Max and Raegan barely recognized me when I met them for the tram that school year.

Moving toward my door, I nudge it open with a swing, gravitating closer to the bathroom between my brother's room and mine.

The light shines brightly within the bathroom, Kai is already in front of the sink, meticulously brushing his teeth. He’s making sure he doesn’t brush too little or too long on each tooth. His uniform is the same as my own. The only real difference between the uniforms of the men and women who attend New Foundation’s Academy is that women may wear skirts if it’s warm enough outside. His shirt lays smoothly on his chest. His tie folded to perfection.

He grunts once I try to move past him to grab my toothbrush, glancing down at me with a full mouth, letting out an irritated scoff. Still, I shove past him, gathering a small dollop of toothpaste on my brush. Unlike him, I could be more precise.

Vigorously, I brush my teeth in large strokes back and forth, Kai is beside me, spitting up his toothpaste before rinsing his mouth. I watch him as he dabs his lips with a towel, leaning his hip into the counter to observe me.

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