Page 93 of The Order

“I thought Untouchables were supposed to be ugly, soulless elites,” he says, only making me smile.

“My name's Forest, by the way,” I say, hearing my father’s phone start to ring loudly.

“Forest? I like it. My name is Fallan-”

“Forest!” my father says, staring down the hallway, keeping my brother's sleepy figure perched on the chairs.

“Oh! I’m sorry, Dad, I was just-”

He drags me away from Fallan, pulling me up as he gets a hold of me. I watch the woman from the waiting room silently move past my father, picking Fallan up quickly. She looks frail, holding the boy close to her with shaky hands.

“They were speaking to one another, Mariah,” my father hisses at the woman, observing me up and down, inspecting every part of me he can.

“They’re children, Andrew,” the woman says, moving past my father and me. My dad grabs her arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. Fallan and I exchange a look, both of our heads nuzzled on our parents’ shoulders.

“Tell Joshua I don’t want to see his boy near my child again. Consider what my wife did my final act of kindness to the Markswoods,” my father says, keeping my head down with his hand.

“You're a sheep wearing a wolf's skin, Andrew,” he mutters. “You can walk, talk, and live like them, but deep down,” she whispers. “You know those calluses on your hands will never hide who you really are, where you’re really from,” she whispers, giving me a slight glance.

"Do not speak to me like that in front of my daughter. I suggest you take your boy and leave,” he says, motioning his head backward, urging her to go.

She takes the opportunity to move past us, listening to her son's quiet words as he shows her his hands. She looks confused, touching his healed knuckles with her cut and worn hands. I hear her ask him who fixed them, watching his blue eyes glance back to me again, my name leaving his mouth. Her eyes move around to meet mine. I take the opportunity to wave goodbye to the pair, seeing his toothy grin once more, before watching them disappear behind the corner.

“I don’t ever want you speaking to one of them like that again,” my father says. “Especially anyone in that family.” He carries me back down the hallway I’d come down. “Clearly, you still need an escort,” my father barks, moving to set me down next to Kai as the door finally flies open, revealing my vivacious mother. She wears a mask that conceals her smile, but I can see it in her eyes.

“Are you ready?” my mother questions, motioning my father to bring me over.

Something tells me I’ll be going with her whether I am or not.

“What the hell is all of this?” I question, watching the reflective version of myself stand in the testing room with me. We both observe a younger version of myself patiently sitting in the operating chair, watching my mom typing away at her computer. She scrolls through my file diligently. “Why can't I remember this?” I push, watching the other me lean against the chair.

“It probably has a little something to do with blue eyes and his mom out there, for starters,” it says, rolling its eyes at me. “That delicious, deviant Unfortunate has been fond of us for quite some time. I’m glad you're warming up to him as much as I have…. Although, there's something about blondie that is so enticing,” it whispers, my head pounding as my reality continues to come unraveled.

“I still can't figure out who’s trying to get in. You see, Fallan, we want Fallan in our mind because, well, we are linked. But that unknown bastard pounding on the back door is starting to get on my nerves,” it whispers, making me suck in a breath with confusion.

“What bastard?”

“If I knew the answer to that, they would be feeling a world of pain right now for trying to tamper with our minds.”

“Why are you showing me all of this? Why now?” I question, running my finger along the scar on my pointer finger.

“To show you why you can’t shake our raven-haired friend,” it says, pointing to the door I had followed my younger self through.

“He’s never been in this memory before,” I say, running my hands through my hair. “Every time I reflect on this memory, it was just me sitting in this chair and then-”

Then nothing.

I pause, watching my younger self glance at the cabinet beside the chair. I cock my head at the cabinetry, my eyes landing on a shiny scalpel out of its packaging. Its end is still coated in blood, unsterile and unmeant for my hand. The cameras in the room are off, each one limp and void of life.

“Starting to remember a little more, hmm?” it questions from behind me, squeezing my shoulders as I whip around, half expecting to see my own cat-like eyes. This reflection of me has hair that's nearly completely white. It's fully encapsulated by the gray my mother tries so hard to hide. My eyes seem brighter reflected back to me, no longer a forest green, but rather something light and unknown. Its presence dissolves, and once more, it’s just me, observing the memory as if it's the first time.

I watch my younger self hop down from the chair, silently tiptoeing past my mother and closer to the cabinet.

“Just a few more minutes, honey,” my mother says, blatantly unaware of my hand's reaching for the scalpel. I take a few more steps toward my younger self, watching her turn the blade in her hand, giving it one look before quickly slicing the tip of our finger. With a clatter, she drops the scalpel, clutching her finger as she begins to lean into the cabinets, unable to control her emotions—my small body flails, full of jolts and unnerving movements. My mother springs up from the chair in horror, grabbing my small figure with worried hands, quickly finding the cut, only to be horrified by my shaking body.

“Forest, what did you do?!” she questions, quickly healing the wound as she looks around for what I'd used. Her hands grasp the scalpel, looking it over with wide eyes. My body slowly stops shaking. My eyes quickly blink back to normal.

“Forest, did you cut yourself with the scalpel on the counter?” my mother questions. The tears rolled down my young face.

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