Page 56 of The Order

Instinctively, I swat his hand away, looking at Fallan in pure panic. For the first time, he takes a step, pausing once I shake my head at him not to interfere. He looks frustrated, gripping his leg while his foot taps impatiently.

“Jesus Christ,” I hiss, shoving away the man who continued to grab at me. I can tell he wasn’t expecting me to defend myself. “I was helping my brother with a project, and neither of us minded the fresh air,” I say, trying to ignore just how close the man behind me is.

“You know you’ve been quite the troublemaker recently, Forest. Your scorecard has seen more marks in the past week than it ever had in previous years,” the Official in charge of coding growls. His last name is tucked away under his collar. I'm barely able to make out the last name.

Heywood.

“You're questioning me as if I’m an Unfortunate,” I say, feeling my hands shake.

Heywood nods his head toward the man behind me.

My stomach drops the moment the man behind me grabs my waist, forcing me back and into him with a wrap of his arm across my chest. His hand slowly moves across my chest, brushing over my breasts. His hand works its way under my shirt, nearly grazing my mark.

Something cold presses into my lower stomach. I feel the hilt before I realize his blade is touching my skin. I stop squirming as the man’s hot breath moves over the skin of my neck. He laughs maniacally.

Fallan has now fully stepped away from the doorway, clutching his side, ready to do something that would only lead to them trying to kill him. All I can do is mouth for him to go. The man holding me from behind clenches my jaw in his hand, forcing me away from my sideways gaze to Fallan.

My mark begins to burn, making me want nothing more than to pummel both Officials to the floor. Fallan darts behind another indent in the wall, moving closer with quiet steps.

“Get the fuck off of me, you pig!” I shout, feeling the man's hand clamp over my mouth as he lets out another laugh.

“Maybe you’re closer to an Unfortunate than we thought. But they usually fight back less when a blade is pressed to them,” The man behind me says, only urging Fallan to slowly move one more space closer at the mention of a blade.

“I didn’t do anything-”

“Yes, you did,” Heywood begins, putting in a line of code with precise movements. “You were curious. Hopefully, this fixes that. If you weren't Andrew’s daughter, I would have made you a little more susceptible to my friend's wandering hands so we could’ve had a bit more fun together and both gotten something out of this,” Heywood says, my stomach almost unable to hold itself together any longer.

A pain heats behind my ear, stronger than the first time at the screening. I arch my back into the man behind me, feeling his blade nick me. He curses, putting away the weapon that was supposed to be a show of force and nothing more. My head pounds as the pain intensifies. There are fists pounding on the walls of my mind, begging to destroy the barrier to the outside world. I bite my lip as the pain becomes close to unmanageable. Fallan is still pressed against a wall, concealing himself with one of the window curtains.

“She should be good as new after this,” Heywood says, making my heart race.

After a few minutes, the pain slowly begins to die down. I force my head forward to collect my thoughts, letting my quick breaths become steadier once I realize how much control I need to have to keep myself together.

The man's hands leave my body, lingering on all the places Josh had wrecked during our sparring on the mat before he quickly sprays Cure-All on the area he’d accidentally sliced with his blade. Both men take a step back from me, allowing me to raise my head. I mimicked blinking my eyes the same way my brother did when he had come to after code had been sent to his chip that night. I force a vacant expression across my face, doing my best not to let the fear that encompasses my body show through. I let out a small sigh once I realized Fallan had managed to slip away back into the art room. I’m relieved he didn’t get involved. It would have ended miserably for both of us.

“I’m sorry, I must have spaced out,” I say cheerily, looking between the two men with a smile. They both looked pleased with my response, exchanging a look before glancing down the hallway behind me.

“It's okay. We were asking if you were okay.”

These fucking scummy liars.

“You were still in Defense Class clothes, and they’re a bit bloodied, so we figured we’d stop and check on you,” the man who had felt me up and down says. I force him another fake smile, looking down at my clothes with a sigh.

“I bloodied an Unfortunate. I was going to use Mrs. Auburn’s storage room to change,” I say, opening my bag to show the men my uniform. They both look satisfied with my response, giving one another a nod as they both begin to back away.

“Well then, we’ll leave you to it,” Heywood says, motioning his partner to follow him as I stare at my blood still coating the point of the man's blade. I give them a slight wave while I back away. Suddenly, I’m hit with intense nausea that comes over me the moment I turn around. I think of nothing but getting behind the art room door and away from the confinement of this hallway.

There's no way to stop the vomit from leaving my mouth. It burns my throat as I relieve myself over the art room sink. My hands clutch its side, forcing myself to stay on my feet, as I recall every place the Official had touched me. I see Fallan’s figure move to close the door, each camera already turned away and toward the walls, keeping us hidden from the prying eyes. My hand shakes as I continue vomiting, pounding my fist on the side of the sink out of frustration. I finally feel some relief.

“He input code to not only make you forget about the area where you and your brother were searching earlier but to forget everything they said and did to you just now,” Fallan says calmly.

Grabbing a small towel from the clean bin, he begins helping me run water down the sink to hide any evidence of my weak stomach. I keep my head leaning on the sink's rim, watching the water flow down the drain. It's impossible to string together any coherent thoughts right now.

“They did all of that in broad daylight,” I whisper, still feeling the man's breath touching the crook of my neck.

“They do much worse when they’re not afraid of getting caught,” Fallan says. Clenching his jaw, he moves closer behind me. “I need to clean you up, or else we’ll both be getting questioned,” Fallan says sincerely, running the towel under the water for only a moment.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I whisper.

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