Chapter 6

"Welcome home, Sweetheart."

I winced at the sickly sweet way my mother spoke, and the warm hug she enfolded me in. I was taller than her now, stronger, but I knew that wouldn't stop her.

"Hey, Mom, where's Elise?"

My mother pulled back to stare up at me angrily. Her cheeks flushed and brown eyes blazed. I hated the bits of myself I saw in her—her pouty lips, so like mine. The same straight nose. I suppose I got my fiery temper from her, but unlike her, I'd never direct it at those I loved.

Her shoulder-length blonde hair flying, she took a step towards me, and I stiffened.

"I'm saying hello to you, and you're asking after your sister?" she hissed, her fingers traveling to my side and digging into the flesh at my waist.

My mouth went dry, and I whimpered, knowing she would twist the skin hard enough to leave a bruise if I didn't answer her right.

"Sorry, Mama. I missed you." Was that enough?

Her fingers stayed where they were an extra moment before withdrawing.

"That's fine, dear. Your sister is down enjoying herself in the games room."

With a sigh of relief, the stiffness in my shoulders eased, and I smiled at her now cheerful expression.

"I'll come back soon, Mama." Against my own instincts, I forced myself to lean forward and plant a kiss on her offered cheek.

Then I was out of there, the reminder of her mood swings and abuses enough to make me wish I could move out of our family space and into my own space. But that would only be granted to me once I was pregnant and confirmed as a pack mother.

Once I moved out, I'd make a point of avoiding this hallway, of never visiting the woman who had made my life a living hell.

The corridors leading around 14F were busy, and I smiled, nodding at all the aunties and kids I passed. The games room was on the other side of our kitchen, and quite the trek from where my mother's house was tucked in at the end of a hall. When I reached it, I was surprised to find it relatively empty.

I guess most people visiting for family day spent time with their family and not engaging in recreation, but my family was more complicated than most.It was there that I found my sister Elise.

She was playing some kind of dungeon crawler, and I planted myself beside her on the low squashy couch designed for kids. My knees were bent awkwardly, but there was enough nostalgia in the old couch to make it seem comfortable, even if it wasn't.

"Hey." She didn't even look at me. Her vacant brown eyes fixed on the screen, frizzy brown hair sticking out at all angles. She'd lost weight again, and I noticed her colour was off. Not drastically, but it wasn't as rich as it had been, like working the poisoned fields had leached it out of her somehow. "I said, hey." No reaction. I cleared my throat and passed a hand in front of her eyes, disturbing the screen. "Elise? Hello?"

That did it, and I almost wished it hadn't. Elise jumped, nearly dropping her controller in her lap, and turned. There was no expression, no warmth, and for one terrible moment, no recognition when she turned her honey brown eyes on me.

"Oh, Syl. Hi. Sorry, I guess I got lost in the game."

The fuck she did. I could see the horror behind her soft smile, the way it did nothing to change the ever present sadness in her eyes.

No, not sadness. Despair.

"Are you okay?"

Her grin widened, stretching across her face like puppets pulled the strings. "Yeah, for sure. I'm great. Do you know how important working the fields is for the pack? I actually really love it. I'm doing so much good for the future generations, Syl. It's such important work." Her voice dripped with a contentedness that failed to match the lack of expression in her eyes.

I eyed her quizzically.

My sister had gone kicking and screaming to the fields. Each time she came back, she was more resigned to her fate, and I saw less of the sister I had once known and loved. The one I'd trailed after, joining her in whatever she happened to be doing. Just wanting to be near her, to learn from her, to be strong like her. I took Elise's hands in mine, intending to find the spark she'd been known for, but she yelped, pulling them to her chest.

Startled, I eyed her hands. "What? What's the matter?"

She buried her hands in her lap, her eyes turning downcast and tears springing to her eyes. Panic flared in my chest.

"Elise, what's the matter? What's happened to your hands?" When she didn't answer again, I gave a desperate grab for her hands.

"No, Syl, please. I don't want you to see."

But it was too late. I pulled her hands roughly free, panicking anew at how little she was able to resist me.

She used to play the piano. Her long delicate fingers flying across the keys to the delight of everyone in the building, but not anymore.

No fingernails.

Not a one.

My mouth hung open as I looked over the ruins of her hands—inflamed pink, fleshy nubs on her delicate fingers.

She wasn't Elise anymore—trusted, loved, and once celebrated for her talents and kindness.

She'd failed to become a pack mother and her future had been taken from her. I turned her hands over, noting the burnt flesh on her palms. Elise quietly sobbed while I did so, though I moved too gently for it to have pained her. How bad had these burns been that they would linger so cruelly?

The message was obvious.

I was staring at my future.

It was either breed or burn.

I forced myself through the rest of the visit, chewing down a meal of rolled oats with Elise, all the while eager to get back to the dorms. Elise's mangled hands haunted my steps on the way back to Pack Breeders 103C. Only a few more days before I would find out if I'd been successful this cycle. I'd either bleed or they would test me to see if I'd conceived. If I hadn't, I'd have to beg for one more chance, and they'd be within their power to say no.

Elise. She was so beautiful, and so much kinder than I was. My favourite of all my siblings. She was the one who had brushed my hair out, who had listened to me when I'd said mama was pinching me while no one was looking. Now she'd been cast aside and tossed like meat to the hungry wolves because her body wouldn't do what she—what they—wanted.

Not me. No fucking way. If I didn't conceive this cycle, I'd make my case and make absolutely sure I conceived the next cycle. I knew it wouldn't count for much to have sex so close to my cycle's end, but I needed to keep playing The Party Girl. Keep the guys thinking I was a maniac for sex, even if the thought of it didn't interest me at all. It was a game I needed to play if I wanted to keep my fingernails.

I curled my hands into my palm, feeling the comforting press of my nails on the soft skin.

No way would I end up like Elise.

I burst into the dorm, banging the door against the wall loud enough to attract every eye in the room.

"Hey, guys, did you miss me?"

A sea of delighted eyes met mine and a few beers were raised. Carter came rushing over, and I smiled at him like the thought of him taking me outside of my fertile period did anything but turn my stomach.

"Hey, babe, I've got a cold one for you." An icy beer, still wet with condensation, was shoved into my hands.

I winked. "Yeah sure. You want to play some foosball?"

I didn't bother to take a minute for myself to change or unwind from the emotional upheaval of seeing Elise in such a state. There was no time for it.

Placing the beer on a floating shelf beside the foosball table, I set up across from Carter, gripping the handles on either side and flashing him a flirty grin. But the moment Carter's faded out soccer player kicked the ball towards mine, someone slipped in behind me and pressed their hard-on into my back, gripping my hips and pulling me up against them.

I hissed in surprise, molding myself back against them, not caring who it was.

"Come on, man, we were just about to play a game." Carter spun a handle and launched the little white ball into my goal, easily slipping past my defenses.

"Yeah, well, I have a better one in mind."

I arched backwards into the husky voiced man who held me prisoner.

"Okay, but I get her ass. She's tight as fuck."

I let myself sink into the sensation. This place wasn't all bad, and if I had to do this—had to be here—I might as well find some enjoyment in it. There was something about them taking dibs on my body parts that turned me on. A hand gripped my throat, my pulse hammering against his fingers, and I moaned as a bolt of arousal went straight to my core. At least my body had its head in the game, even if my mind was still swirling with images of Elise's burnt hands.

She'd just returned from family day. I didn't know what I was expecting, but Syl getting ready to be double-teamed was not it. I stared at the screen, eyes bugging out, my gaze shifting from monitor to monitor as I tried to take in all angles of her at once.

Breathy moans escaped her plump lips, and my heart hurt to know they were true sounds of arousal, mirroring her heat. Fuck, I wanted to be in there. My hand curled into a fist, and I slammed it down on Jerry's desk. She might enjoy what these guys were doing to her, but I knew instinctively that I could do better. That her body would respond to me the way mine did to hers.

I wanted to mark her, claim her. Walk into the dorm and point a finger at her in front of everyone there.

Mine. This one is mine. Fucking hands off.

It was all I could do to keep my legs crammed under Jerry's desk, my fists helplessly clenched as I watched the second guy come around to the other side of the foosball table. He pushed the first guy out of the way, and rage flowed in my blood like fire at the way he moved in front of Syl possessively. But nothing could compare to the icy chill when he slapped her and pushed her back hard enough into the foosball table that she was forced to brace herself.

What the fuck? I leaned forward in my chair, focusing on the central monitor. He ripped up her shirt and bra, taking a nipple between his fingers and pinching hard. Syl cried out, and I knew it was a genuine cry of pain. Her face twisted, and the arousal from a few moments ago was gone, replaced with the tiniest hint of hatred. Some women liked pain. I knew this. I'd watched enough breeders moan their approval when their males twisted a nipple, but I also knew the sound women made when they liked what was being done to them, and that was not it.

Pain was not Syl's thing. Her yelps held no notes of arousal. But the fucking asshole just kept up, taking her other nipple and twisting it cruelly.

Syl kept her arms pressed against the pool table, crying out as the man mercilessly manhandled her breasts, but making no move to stop him.

No. Just no. No way would I allow her to suffer at the hands of this sadistic bastard. I burst out of my chair, sending it screeching on tired wheels across the room, and dashed out into the hallway.

Where was it?

Yes, down the hall and around the corner was a fire alarm. I broke the glass with my elbow and pulled the handle without hesitation. The alarm blared, and I raced back to Jerry's room and shut myself inside, hoping no one had seen me pull it.

Anxiously, I turned to the monitor. The bastard had taken his hands off Syl, and they were all crowding around the door, getting ready to leave and escape the supposed fire.

Breathing a sigh of relief, I stayed to make sure she was out before leaving Jerry's room to join the other watchers assembled in the hall.

Administrator Sampson's usually blotchy face was beat red as he stared us down.

"I want to know who pulled the fire alarm, and why. You will tell me, or there will be dire consequences."

I'd never seen him so pissed. His tie was pulled loose and the white sleeves of his shirt were rolled up like he was ready to hit somebody.

Fuck.

We were all lined up in the watchers hallway near the fire alarm. If I'd have thought this through, maybe I could've come up with a way to excuse what I'd done. Maybe started a small fire in Jerry's office or something. But I had acted on pure desperation, and now my mind was blank as I stared down at the raging bull before me.

I was in Jerry's area, not my own, and the only watcher present who didn't belong. Cam stood beside me, and I was disturbed to find him watching my face. I kept my features schooled as he examined me, the shorter man at my side looking curiously calm in the face of the administrator's ire.

"I demand an answer." Administrator Sampson pulled out the digital timer the breeders used in their freshenup rooms and waved it around. "I'm setting this for five minutes and leaving the area. When I come back, somebody had better fucking fess up or all of you will pay, and trust me boys, it will not be pretty."

Swallowing my fear, I watched him set the timer and walk away.

Shit. I just needed my brain to work out what to do, but with everyone angrily talking around me, it was no simple task.

"Why'd you do it?"

Cam's whispered words grabbed my attention. Turning to him, I tried to force a lie to my lips, but the way he looked up at me—not angry, not scared—the lie wouldn't come. He seemed curious of all things. I cursed myself, and Cam waited patiently, studying my face.

"For a girl. They were—they were—" What could I say? Doing something she was pretending to like, but I knew she didn't? That I knew without a doubt she was being abused, even though it looked like some kinky sex shit to anyone else watching those monitors? "Hurting her."

Cam's eyes cleared, and he smiled sadly. "Yeah, I get it."

Nothing else. No anger. No further questions. Just—I get it. In his situation, I would've been pissed as hell, but not Cam.

With the timer's shrill beeping, a blanket of quiet came over those assembled, and Administrator Sampson came stomping back down the hall towards us.

"Well?" His eyes scanned each man in the line, pausing just long enough to make them sweat before moving on.

"It was me."

No.

The quiet confession came from the man at my side, and I looked down in horror at Cam. He gave me a wry smile.

"I was smoking in my office, and I accidentally started a fire in the wastebasket. I freaked out and pressed the fire alarm, but I was able to put it out on my own and clean up."

My mouth fell open. It was the answer my brain couldn't come up with.

Administrator Sampson stepped up to Cam, looking down his barrel chest at him.

"And why didn't you say something sooner?" he said through gritted cheeks. The vein on Administrator Sampson's head was set to bursting.

"I-I didn't want to get in trouble, sir. I apologize for disturbing everyone." A simple apology, but I saw some guys behind Cam cracking their knuckles and glaring in his direction.

"Oh, you're in a fucking shit load of trouble" Administrator Sampson gripped Cam by the back of the neck, and he yelped pitifully.

Administrator Sampson effortlessly marched him down the hall towards his office, and I gritted my teeth at the sight.

As far as I was concerned, Cam was a fucking hero, and I was determined to repay him.

I felt the tension in my shoulders loosen. Syl was safe for the moment.

Until I could get in there myself and make her mine.

My nipples still ached from Carter twisting them. By the time we came back to the dorm, I made a beeline for my room, not answering the calls of my name. Now I knew why they gave us locks, and I twisted mine into place a heartbeat before falling to my knees beside the bed and sobbing into the coverlet.

I hated him. Hated this place. Hated this world where, to be safe, I had to become a mother, or sent to the fields until every ounce of who I was and what I loved was ripped from me. Deemed worthless.

Sobbing so hard my shoulders ached, I let loose all the emotions I'd been bottling up. The interaction with my mother and the way she still controlled me with fear. My sister's pitiful state. The way I'd thought I might get to enjoy sex for once before Carter came and ripped that possibility away from me. The pure relief I'd felt when the fire alarm had sounded, and I'd had an excuse to escape Carter's clutches.

I cried for my sister, for myself, and for all the other party girls here who were just doing what they had to do to survive. Tear after tear fell until my eyes were dry and puffy. Crawling up onto the bed, I meant to tuck myself under the covers when I noticed a darker spot in the middle of my coverlet.

Shocked, I leaned in and sniffed it, wrinkling my nose when I realized what it was.

"Sick fucks!" I shrieked, tossing the coverlet onto the floor before searching the sheets for any other stains. Convinced there was none, I climbed under the thin sheet and pulled it tightly around myself, dreaming of the day I could leave Pack Breeders 103C behind and The Party Girl with it.

The emotions poured out of me in streaks of cleansing tears. I was tired, but too agitated to sleep. Fumbling with my nightstand drawer, I grabbed the magazine on top and moved onto my back, intending to take comfort in the pages I'd pored over a hundred times before.

The women inside these magazines—the glorious, elegant beings with their fabulous dresses and perfect hair—had always felt like old friends from another world. Like if I wished hard enough, I could go back to the place and time when they'd existed and join them. Wear a beautiful dress I'd have to be stitched into. Have my hair and makeup done and go mingle among them. A perfectly acceptable addition to their circles.

Only, they were from another time, and this was all I had left of them and their world. But I could dream, and I carefully flipped through the pages. Eyes roving over every inch of fancy fabric, as I tried to learn how these designs had been dreamt up.

Something slid loose, and I cursed, a fresh set of tears threatening to spring free. These magazines were ancient and found within the rubble of human civilization. They were bound to start falling apart. But when I looked at the loose paper, it wasn't a torn page from the magazine at all.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, I found myself staring down at a pencil sketch of a woman who looked familiar. Squinting down at the drawing, I traced the curve of her dress with a finger before the answer came to me.

Page thirty-two.

I flipped to the page, my mouth hanging open when I found I was right. Navy blue dress, sweetheart neckline, a tight bodice, and fabric draping by her feet, but the woman was ripped in half. The other side of her dress's design a mystery. Only it wasn't.

Not anymore. I took the paper and fit it behind the ripped up page, marveling at how well the two halves of the woman matched.

Someone had finished it. More tears sprung to my eyes, and I laughed, looking down at the perfectly matched other half of my favourite dress in the magazine. Whoever had done this had added a flower to the missing side. I chuckled, knowing exactly where my mystery artist had seen the flower—page five. How I'd drawn in a flower on the peach-coloured babydoll dress and made note of how it added the right touch. It'd been a phase, but whoever had done this hadn't known that.

Someone had looked through my most private things without my permission, and while that left a bitter taste in my mouth, they'd also liked what they'd found enough to make this sketch. They might've fouled my coverlet, but the picture was sweet—in a stalkerish way.