Chapter 1
Kasey
The brush scraped harshly against the floor; the stiff bristles biting into the dried, rusty stains that clung to the tiles.
My arms ached, but I kept scrubbing, because stopping wasn’t an option.
Not when the room still smelled sharp and metallic.
Not when the walls still echoed with what had happened before they dragged me in.
I didn’t know the Omega who’d been here last. I just cleaned it. Like I had done a few times before.
Cleaning blood and vomiting was second nature, often it was my own. It wasn’t any easier to clean than some other Omega who didn’t want to follow the ever-changing rules of this place.
Okay, maybe the rules didn’t change, but it sure felt like they did. It was impossible to be the perfect Omega with the expectations that were required.
The bucket beside me sloshed when I dipped the brush again; the water was already cloudy and pinkish. I tried not to look at it too long. Tried not to think about how Mama always said I was too soft for things like this. Too gentle. Too easily scared.
She’d been right.
I swallowed and scrubbed harder.
My knees hurt from the cold floor. My fingers were pruned and raw. My throat felt tight like I’d swallowed a stone. But I kept going because the handler who brought me here said I was to finish before the next bell rang.
I didn’t know what would happen if I didn’t finish, and I didn’t want to find out.
My back still stung with each movement from last month’s punishment.
A tremor ran through me, quick and sharp, and I forced myself to breathe slowly. It didn’t exactly help, even though a soft voice filtered through my mind.
I blinked hard, pushing back the sting in my eyes of memories I had long since lost. Crying wouldn’t help. Crying has never helped me here.
I dropped the brush again. Scrubbed more. I tried to pretend the room didn’t feel like it was swallowing me whole.
I knew what happened in this room. Everyone did it. You didn’t have to see it to understand. The walls held the memory of it — the fear, the noise, the way Omega’s cries could echo long after he was dragged out.
I tried not to think about the pain someone must’ve felt being strung up by their arms like that. Thinking about it made my stomach twist.
None of us forgot what happened to the ones who broke the rules. None of us could.
The first rule they taught me carved itself into my bones faster than anything else.
Don’t speak unless spoken to.
Mama used to tell me not to interrupt people, especially the Alphas. She said it was polite. Respectful. But here, it wasn’t about manners. Here, even answering too quickly, even trying to explain oneself, could earn a sharp smack to the side of the head.
That first time stunned me so badly I couldn’t breathe for a second. After that, I didn’t try again. Not that I talked a lot these days anyway. Talking felt like asking for trouble. So, I kept my head down. I kept my mouth shut.
I swiped a wet hand across my forehead, pushed a strand of hair out of my eye, and tried to empty my mind. I tried to think about anything other than what I was scrubbing off the floor.
With enough effort, my thoughts drifted somewhere else — somewhere warmer, softer. I refused to let this place take it from me.
The details weren’t as sharp as they used to be, fading around the edges like an old picture, but the feelings were still there.
Safety. Happiness. Love.
All the things I missed most.
All the things this place couldn’t strip out of me, no matter how hard it tried.
I let the memory pull me in, gentle as a tide. It wasn’t sharp anymore, more like sunlight through a window, warm but blurry around the edges. Still, it was enough.
I remembered the way the air smelled back home, clean and sweet, like pine trees and the soap Mama used on laundry days. I remembered a boy’s laugh, who was loud and bright. I remembered how safe I felt walking beside him, how his hand always found mine without even thinking about it.
I remembered being happy without trying.
Back then, the world felt big in a good way. Full of things to explore, not things to fear.
I held onto it now, those feelings, as I knelt on the floor in a place that didn’t know what warmth was. I held on because it was the only part of me that still felt real.
Ten years of me being here, learning the rules of Lockswell Boarding House. Rules that were meant to be broken, because there was never going to be a way for me to be that perfect.
Don’t speak unless spoken to.
Don’t take what isn’t given.
Obey all orders from Alphas.
Must always have perfect posture.
I knew I wasn’t perfect, not to the standards that were expected of me here. And I paid the price for it.
Many times.
It didn’t matter if I failed anymore; the handlers always found something I wasn’t doing right. There was no winning here, no way to be perfect enough.
Pulling myself out of the memory before it swallowed me whole, I glanced over the floor one more time, checking for any trace of dried blood I might’ve missed. My hands were shaking, but I forced them still. Stillness was safer. Stillness meant I wasn’t breaking any rules.
The door clicked open behind me, and my entire body went ridged.
I didn’t turn. I didn’t breathe too loudly. I kept my eyes fixed on the clean tiles, the way they taught me. The way they carved into me.
Bootsteps crossed the threshold, slow, and deliberate. The kind that told me the handler wasn’t in any hurry. The kind that meant he was here to inspect, to judge, to find the thing I’d missed even if there wasn’t one.
A shadow stretched across the floor beside me. “Step back.” His voice was flat, emotionless, the same tone they all used.
I obeyed immediately, standing and taking a step back. My knees ached from being on them so long, but I held in my grimace.
He crouched to inspect the floor, and I held my breath. My heart thudded so hard it felt like it might shake my whole chest, and I prayed he couldn’t hear it.
A long moment passed. Then another. Finally, he stood. “Acceptable.”
Relief washed through me so quickly it almost made me dizzy.
He didn’t pause before giving the next order. “Get yourself clean up. Pictures are being taken soon, and your presence is required in the gym in twenty minutes.”
My breath hitched but I kept my face blank the way they expected. Pictures. Gym. Twenty minutes.
I dipped my chin in a tiny nod and stepped back from the bucket. My hands were still damp, streaked with pinkish water, but I didn’t wipe them on my pants.
The handler didn’t wait to see if I followed the order. He turned and walked out, leaving the door open behind him like he already knew I’d obey.
I did. Even though I’d rather do anything but obey these handlers.
What I wanted was to go home. I wanted to see Mama. I wanted her to wrap her arms around me and never let me go. Even though she was no longer alive.
If I had known…If I hadn’t been a stupid kid…. I’d still be with her. I’d still be where I was always meant to be.
My feet automatically moved down the hallway. The lights overhead buzzed faintly, too bright and too cold. The air smelt like a disinfectant and something sharper underneath it. I kept my eyes on the floor, watching the pattern of the tiles pass beneath me.
Left. Right. Left. Right.
The door was propped open, steam curling faintly from inside. A few other Omegas were already there, silent as ghosts, washing up under the watchful eyes of a handler who leaned against a wall.
I slipped quietly, keeping distance like the rules demanded. No speaking. No looking. Not touching. No moving wrong.
This was the main bathroom that Omegas were to use during the day, the one that we had to be watched in. I hated using this one. Hated the way the handler’s eyes sometimes watched us too closely. I hated the words they said that made my skin crawl.
I preferred the one upstairs that was connected to my bedroom. It was small, and left very little room to do anything, but at least I had some sort of privacy there.
I stepped up to an empty sink and turned the water on with careful fingers. The cold hit my skin and I scrubbed fast, trying to get the last traces of the dirty water off of me. My reflection in the metal faucet was warped and tiny, but even that felt too much eye contact, so I looked away.
Sometimes, I forget what I look like. It was better that way. Easier to blend in with the others.
I didn’t stand out here, at least physically speaking. I was just…here. I existed. I obeyed whatever rules the handlers demanded of me.
I did what was ordered.
From the start of each day to the time, I went to bed. Every moment of my day was scheduled in. Breakfast, school, and any other activities that I was to learn packed my days.
Joy, joy, I thought, huffing a breath through my nose. What a great freaking life I got here.
A sharp throat clearing from across the room snapped my spine straight. I shut off the water immediately, hands going still at my sides before I dared to reach for a towel.
Unease tightened my chest as I dried my fingers. The handler’s gaze was fixed on me like he was waiting for me to slip, to break a rule I didn’t even know existed yet.
Keeping my head bowed, eyes lifted just enough to see the floor in front of me, I stepped out of the bathroom without a sound.
The hallway felt colder the moment I stepped out, like the air itself knew where I was supposed to go next. My hands were still slightly damp, but I kept them at my sides, fingers straight, posture perfect.
The handler who’d cleared his throat earlier didn’t follow me, but I could still feel his stare between my shoulder blades as I walked away. It made my steps smaller, quieter, like I could shrink myself into something unnoticeable if I tried hard enough.
The path to the gym wasn’t long, but it always felt that way.
As I turned the corner, the sound hit me first.
Voices.
Not loud, not chaotic. Just controlled, clipped commands echoing off the high ceilings. The gym, despite its openness and size, was never a room I enjoyed.
A long line of Omegas stood along the far wall, spaced evenly apart, each one silent and still. A handler moved down the line, adjusting shoulders, lifting chins, fixing posture like they were arranging objects instead of people.
Another handler stood near a camera and cameraman, a clipboard in his hands.
I stepped inside, keeping my head down, waiting for someone to tell me where to stand. It didn’t take more than a few minutes before the handler with the clipboard to notice me.
“On the wall with the others.”