Page 61 of The Order

“Someone needs to teach them where they stand amongst us, Forest,” he hisses, regurgitating the same bullshit everyone always says.

I yank my arm away. I don’t even recognize my childhood friend in front of me right now. His blue eyes, which I always saw as comforting and grounding, now seem wild and unpredictable. The light-hearted smile I thought I always loved is now menacing. The pain in my head flares to life again the longer I watch this situation unfold. My feet begin to back me away from the group, motivated by the crowd's noise that keeps growing into something feral and unruly. I don’t need to turn around to know that Fallan is only a few steps behind me. We both watch the Official’s hand raise, ready to bloody the child's back with the light sensor prod.

The minor haze of a blackout comes over me, threatening my vision, tearing me away from my reality in the blink of an eye.

“No. Not now,” I whisper, clutching my head so hard that I can feel my nails dig into my scalp.

“Control it,”I hear Fallan’s voice whisper.

Unlike the slight brush of others' voices against my ear as they whisper, his voice sounds different. I turn my head, expecting to see him next to me, ready to tell him to get away before he’s caught being so close. My throat goes dry once I realize he’s still several feet away from me.

I’m losing it.

I watch the Official lower his arm, heading directly for the boy's back. I let out a shaky gasp, extending my arm out toward the Official holding the light sensor prod. My silent word trails off my tongue.

“No,” I hiss to myself, doubling forward with pain I can't control.

My mind's dull headache is now lethal. The Official blinks rapidly, his prod swinging away from the boy's back and slamming directly into his leg, clamping down the hand that had touched me earlier against his thigh. The prod begins to burn his skin, searing away whatever it touches. The other Official, who was in the process of swinging at the boy, is now clutching his hand. The soft skin of his palm is mangled, burnt from grabbing his own prods' active exterior.

Both men, ready to beat the boy bloody, double over to the floor. Their knees hit the concrete at the same time mine do, as we all go down in unison. They somehow manage to control their cries.

Fallan wipes something away from his nose, looking me over with a wide-eyed expression.

My hiss of pain turns into a scream each time I try to shove back the blackout. People begin to back away as my agonizing cries continue. The heat behind my ear and on my mark grows and is unbearable.

My hands clutch my head, trying to silence the noise dancing around my mind. I feel the need to let it all out, wanting to twist the necks of all of those who have shed innocent blood in the name of “order.” I feel my shirt ride up as I writhe, my body seizing up as the cool touch of outside air kisses my mark. My hands feel stuck to my head, my mind rushing to hold back whatever unknown energy creeps within it. The chip behind my ear feels so hot that I think it might melt the skin. Vivid images pass through my mind, all leading back to a single sound. A single tune, lost in the spiral of mind. A noise hidden away, not meant to be found.

It takes everything in me not to shove Fallan away once he kneels next to me, letting his hand drag down my shirt, giving my lower stomach a long look. A few students gag at the exchange, unable to see the mark given how quickly Fallan inserted himself into the situation.

I let another scream leave me as the pain continues to grow. I wanted nothing more than to keep him kneeling there next to me. I watch a few students, Max and Josh included, drag Fallan away and onto his back. They scream at him for getting near me, both of them kicking him while he’s down on the floor. My scream morphs into a yell at the sight, my eyes begin to roll to the back of my head. I hear his pained grunts as they kick him again and again. Even from here, I know how afraid he is. My back arches in response to my loss of control over my body. All I can do is listen, unable to control what is happening.

“She’s having a seizure,” my brother says, kneeling next to me, both his and Rae's hands touching my body. “I thought we got rid of these years ago,” Kai finishes, speaking to what I can only assume are more Officials.

“Hang on,” I whisper in my mind to no one in particular.

Forcing my eyes forward, I unleash the pain within me, letting it filter away from my vision through my blood. Finally, I get a clear look at the two boys ready to deliver Fallan another blow.

Max and Josh pause once an Official claps, enabling Fallan to sit up, releasing a mouthful of blood in the process. My body is drained, unable to focus on my brother, who tries to get me to look at him. Fallan’s eyes meet mine through the crowd. Rubbing his fist over his chest, he signs something to me with his hands. Signs I somehow understand.

“Are you okay?” he gestures, looking past his bloody lip and bruised side.

I stare at the countless Officials now filling the eating area, some letting the boy free from his shackles, others working closer to my brother, caught in a frenzy, still begging for a med kit. I give Fallan a nod, feeling the energy within me surge at the thought of the raven-haired brute getting away from all of this. I think of his strength now, wanting to give him anything I can to get out of here.

In an instant, all of that energy, all of that adrenaline, and all that pain fade away, making it easier to slump forward into my brother. I see the spots in my vision, unsure if I imagined the image of Fallan being able to pull himself to his feet and grasping my bag with my sketchbook in his hand, before very slowly slipping away from Max and Josh, who are now focused on me.

I try to stay conscious, unsure of what clarity darkness might bring. It feels comforting for once, the quiet that unconsciousness promises to bring.

"Was it you?”I question the void of my mind, feeding into the delusion someone is there.

There are several moments of silence, and my consciousness threatens to fade away at last.

“It always is. That's my hell,”a voice whispers back, clearer than ever.

No, not just any voice.

Fallan’s voice.

Chapter twenty

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