She Says When

Evryn It’s raining again. It always seems to be when they bring me back. The truck jerks to a stop, tires grinding against the mud-caked gravel. The back gate creaks open as someone grabs my arm before I can move. I don’t resist, since that only makes things worse. They pull me out of the truck too fast, and my foot sinks deep into the mud. I stumble but stay upright. Kyle stands under the awning, clipboard in hand, already annoyed. Without looking up or saying a word, he signs the form and waves the driver off like I’m a package that was delivered. Probably because I am. The truck peels away before the gate even finishes closing, mud splattering across my legs. I sigh softly, trying to wipe it off, but it’s useless. I adjust the trash bag on my shoulder, but it keeps slipping no matter how I hold it. The guard I know as Kyle, finally looks at me, but I keep my eyes forward. Neither of us speak as we start walking toward the compound. The air smells like wet cement and old smoke, the kind that never washes out of walls. This place is already rotting from the inside out, but somehow it's still standing. I walk up the stairs before he tells me to. No one looks at me or even notices I’m back, which is fine. I prefer to stay as invisible as I can. The front door is open when I reach the top of the stairs. My eyes flick around the room, scanning it. The guard closes the door behind me with a low thud that sends a chill down my spine. I never wanted to see this place again. Two guards step out from the dining room, rounding the corner ahead of me. They nod Kyle behind me, and he turns, walking back out of the door. Rich, the tall buff one with long brown hair and a mole below his eye, smirks. “Look who’s finally back.” I shift, swallowing hard as my heart starts racing. I focus my eyes on the floor. “Can I go to my room, please?” I glance up to see Jimmy nod once. Relief floods through me as I keep my head down and head toward my room. Cracks snake across the floor. The floodlight above the armory door is still flickering, and the musty smell in the air makes me feel like I’m going to choke. My boot catches on a dip in the floor, which is still warped from a flood last year. I notice the mud print beneath me and whip my head around. Oh no. I didn’t realize I was leaving a trail behind me. I slip off my muddy shoes in a hurry and snatch them from the floor, avoiding another mess. I walk quietly to my room and stop in front of it. At least I have my own space here, even if it’s not much—it’s mine. I don't have a chance to reach for the door handle, because a woman wearing a black jacket comes storming down the hallway. Her eyes narrow the moment they land on me. She’s an older woman with slick black hair to match her black heart. She’s crueler than cruel. They call her the crypt keeper because she works all the Omegas to their death. Only the ones unlucky enough survive. She waves Rich and Jimmy off, then turns and starts walking back down the hall. I follow closely behind her, nearly running face-first into her back as she comes to a sudden stop. She points to the muddy boot prints. "Clean this up. Now," she yells, her voice echoing down the hall. I flinch, nodding quickly. I quickly make my way down an adjacent hallway toward the servants’ quarter. The supply closet door is already open, and Lina is at the far end, scrubbing the floor. I grab a bucket, bleach, and a scrub brush from the shelf. The water spurts out hot at first and runs brown—almost a rust color. My lips part as a wave of nausea bubbles in my stomach. Once the water runs clear, I dump the bucket and refill it with steaming hot water. The room is barely three feet by three and has no ventilation. The chemical smell burns my eyes and throat. I set the bucket down carefully and pour the bleach in. I walk the halls in silence, heading straight for the front door. The water is hot enough to scald skin, but at least the floor will be clean. I dip the brush in and begin scrubbing the mud from the floor. I don’t know how long it’s been when I hear a quiet sigh above me. My shoulders tense, and I peek up through my lashes. Lina is standing above me, with short black hair, a split lip, and bandaged knuckles. Her uniform is damp near the hem and stained from hours of mopping. She kneels beside me and silently begins to help. “They didn’t give you gloves?” she asks in a whisper. I shake my head. “They never do when it’s the first day back.” She gives me a sympathetic smile before she turns and starts scrubbing the floor. We work in silence for a while, side by side. The bleach stings where old cuts and scratches have split open again. I keep scrubbing anyway. The hallway feels colder than usual, even with the steam rising from the bucket. Our shoulders nearly brush when we move, but neither of us pulls away. A short whistle echoes down the hall. “Evryn,” Rich yells. I peek up and push off the floor. “Yes, Sir,” I reply quietly. “Laundry,” he says, dryly. I nod, grab my bucket and scrub brush, and hurry back to the supply closet. I dump the bucket and put the brush away. Backing out slowly, I head toward the laundry room. It’s hot and humid in here, and the smell is strong enough to make a cockroach run the other direction. I breathe through my nose a few times, trying to clear it. The sheets from the infirmary are heavy and stained with blood. It takes me several hours to wash and dry all of them. As they come out, I spread them and lay them flat on a metal table. I fold each one carefully. I’ve done this for years and know how Alpha Malrik likes it. Once they’re all done, I hoist them down the stairwell, one floor at a time. My back hurts, and the pain radiates down my spine. I finish stacking all the sheets and head back toward my room. The old wallpaper on the wall is peeling, and cobwebs line the ceiling. I’m sure I’ll have to clean those at some point. I round the corner, taking it wide, and bump into someone. My eyes widen in horror, and I look up. “I’m sorry,” I say, rushed. “Watch where you’re f*****g going. Oh, and go eat,” Jimmy snarls. I nod. My feet hit the floor with small thuds as I rush inside. I close the door softly behind me, letting my back press into it. I exhale as my eyes close. Finally, a moment of peace. My eyes flutter open, and I grab my duffle bag off the floor, setting it on the dresser. A shiny metal tray on the bed catches my attention. Half a peanut butter sandwich, a fully brown banana, and corn are on it. At least I’m getting dinner tonight. I finish eating and carefully unzip the duffle bag, pulling out a clean shirt and panties. I wince as a searing pain spreads through my hands. They’re cracked and raw. Blood lines the cuticles, soaked in under my fingernails where the bleach seeped in. I walk into the bathroom and rinse them in the sink. Soap would make it worse, so I just use cold water. I take a quick shower, wash my hair and body, and walk back into the bedroom. Across the room, the scratched bed frame sits against the wall. The linen has been changed recently, and it’s fresh. I inhale, my nose twitching at the scent. Bleach. I carefully plop down on the bed and lean back against the single pillow. The mattress is lumpy with springs sticking out, but at least I’m not sleeping on the floor anymore. I stare at the ceiling as my eyes flutter closed a few times. The mattress creaks slightly as I relax on it, but I jolt upright when a door down the hall slams. My eyes flick back and forth as heavy footsteps ricochet toward me. My door swings open, and Malrik walks in. He doesn’t say anything at first—just stares at me, his eyes dragging over my body. I tense slightly. He reeks of alcohol and cigarettes. “Mmm. There’s my plaything.” I don’t reply. I sit there, staring at him like a deer caught in headlights. He smirks. “Are you tired enough from all your chores? If not, I can wear you out myself,” he says, his voice low.