by Ethan Choi
His name is Thorran Savage although he preferred to be called by one syllable nickname “Thor”. Yes, just like the God of Thunder, he’s our god. We call him our god because we had no other choice. Thor is the strongest of the strongest hence there is no comparable word other than god.
In all honesty, I’ve never been fond of him. I’ve never met him but it’s crazy to see how adeptly he paved our lives for us without even knowing our existence. If I could be blunt, I could even say that I hated him my whole life. After all, he was the sole reason why every one of us must be removed from our family callously to attend boarding school until the age of eighteen. It’s compulsory, he declared. It was also compulsory to attend further education until we obtained a useful job like doctor or lawyer.
Of course that rule didn’t apply for misfits. What happen to those? They were shipped off to manually train to be nothing more than security guards. Shipped off to provide security for whoever needed it.
Considering my grades, I could say that the latter was more likely to be my fate. I’ve given up pretending to care about school and grades. Not that I was very good to begin with but the system made it impossible for someone as average as me. The fact that our headmistress spoke like she was reading Tarot cards didn’t help either.
You will never find love. You don’t have it now and you never will. Just hope that someone will want you to work for them once you graduate.
I anticipated graduation until this point. Now I want nothing to do with it.
On the other side of the thick stage curtain, mumbling and chatter ensues between our potential scouters and family who came to watch the ceremony. On this side, girls prance around, dusting makeup onto each other's face, smoothing their dresses and pinning their hair into ridiculous patterns on their head.
Their hopes are high. Beyond this curtain, university liaison officers await, and scouters keep their eye out for the best potential student. They rehearse their speeches, full of their achievements and future aspirations.
I haven't planned anything. Here I sit, slouched in my seat, still dressed in my uniform, rather than the formal wear the rest of the girl's sport.
Mistress Thatcher has us all line up by alphabetical order. I'm right in the middle, between an aspiring lawyer and business major. According to this set up, the guests on the other side will be getting a very authentic, simple half time show.
I hate this.
Mistress Thatcher trots alone the line, kicking the feet of girls who are in the wrong position, straightening jackets and pulling hair over girl's shoulders. She doesn't touch me. She doesn't even look at me. She knows I stand no chance beyond this curtain. Each of these girl's mistresses will be approached later on, offered a place in numerous universities.
"Remember girl's," Mistress Thatcher says from the side of stage, the unflattering amount of blush she applied this morning glowing merrily, "smile!"
The curtains are suddenly lugged open, revealing a crowd of awaiting people. Immediately I can discern the scouters from the parents. Some families wave at the girls on stage, gushing and whispering to each other. Scouters stand, clipboards in hand, jotting down their initial impressions.
This is like an auction. Of human lives.
Mistress Thatcher saunters on stage, microphone in hand. She stands almost directly in front of me in a rather petty maneuver. I'm sure she has such a glorious smile on her face as she addresses the turnout. Her career relies on the girls upon this stage. The higher tier schools they are introduced to, the better she looks.
"Good morning and welcome everyone," she says, voice puffed from her entrance to the stage. She should spend more time working out then harassing her students. "As you can see, we have some lovely woman upon this stage who are all looking for a place within your university."
I glare at her back.
"If you look in your program, you can see who each girl belongs to. If you are interested, please speak to their Mistress after each have spoken," she continues, motioning across the stage. At least her large body shields me from the spotlight, which is already making me start to sweat atop my brow.
Thatcher says some more words, attempting to come off charming and desirable before she hobbles off stage.
The bad taste in my mouth only increases as the glimmering halo from the spotlight flickers to the first girl. She doesn't freeze – she's been preparing.
She confidently steps forward. "My name is Regina Lawrence, and I'm aspiring to receive a place in a prestigious law school. I'm worthy, because this year, I have achieved...."
It doesn't take me long to zone out. Perhaps I'm jealous, but seeing this makes me uncomfortable. I've known Brenna for a long time, and have no doubt she will succeed with that winning smile, brilliant confidence and overwhelming good looks that could get her a place despite her grades.
The spotlight moves down the line, increasing the dampness on my palms.
A few girls stutter under the pressure. One even leaves in a fit of tears, crumpling with the weight of her failure. It's not pleasant for the rest of us to see, and I can feel the girls next to me – once proud and confident – tense anxiously.
By the time it reached me, I knew exactly what to say.
"Hello everyone, my name is Aerys Sinclair, although that probably means nothing to any of you, since I highly doubt you will be picking me for anything," I exclaim, taking a confident step forward from my place.
There's a stunned silence.
"Now, as for my aspirations, I would say my biggest is to get as far away from this place. That's all."
The silence stretches awkwardly. No one moves. No one scribbles with interest onto their clipboards. No family member leans over to whisper proudly to the other. They all just stare, unsure of how to act. I'm proud of that. I made my point, and now I'll be one of the few left, lingering around waiting to be collected by a prison representative.
The other girl beside me gapes at me, as the spotlight shifts to her. She swallows uncomfortably, before she nervously starts her speech. At least she can't do worse than me.
When the ceremony closed off, some girls went to meet with their families, others to pack their things, and some waited with their mistresses for news.
Not wanting to hear the overbearing excitement of girls finding out their dream school had accepted them, I trudge up to my room, to pack.
However, Mistress Thatcher cuts me off before I have the chance.
"My office," she snaps, "now."
Great. If I wasn't so exhausted after that who debacle, I would have protested. I already know my fate, and a lecture for my behavior on stage is not something I'm excited for. If someone could make my day much worse, it's Mistress Thatcher.
She leads me to her office, which is unsurprisingly empty. She closes the door quickly behind me.
She's stressed, I can tell. Someone must have mentioned how uncomfortable my performance made them. And now she is left with an embarrassing liability on her hands. Maybe even the prisons won't want me to work for them. It won't be long until I'm a cellmate like the rest of them.
"Look, would a sorry suffice?" I ask the pacing Mistress, as I take my usual seat. She pauses, staring at me as if I just spoke badly against our perfect Alpha. "Honestly, you should have seen it coming."
She blinks a few times, then shakes her head. "That isn't my problem."
I'm surprised. Then why does she look so ruffled? Perhaps she found out that the prisons won't take me and she has to keep me for another year. There is a petrified expression on her face speaks volumes as she recalls the past several years of torment.
"Then what is?"
She takes a seat at her desk, before she buries her hands in her hair. I'm wary, unsure of why she is acting that way. She should be out there, smiling and greeting scouters, listening to them offer a space to some of the girls in her sect. Instead she sits her, staring at me like I'm a foreign alien.
"I was approached by someone who is interested in you. They are willing to give you an extremely rare opportunity," she tells me, as if she can't believe her words herself. "They are in relation to our Alpha, Aerys. Do you understand that?”
I stare at her blankly, unable to say a word. Is she for real now?
“They called and someone from higher up is coming here to speak with you,” she informed me. She was on her feet again, shuffling over to me while my mouth remained agape as I tried to process the information.
“W-wait, I don’t get it.” I swallowed a lump on my throat. “why me?”
Mistress Thatcher attempts to straighten my uniform, brushing at my hair. I dismiss her, reeling back. This is overwhelming news, and I don't need her trying to make me prettier for some stranger. I was so convinced I was going to be a prison wardens slave, so to hear this is...I barely know what to do with myself.
"Flutter your eyelashes, they are nice and long. Your eyes will have to be your selling point," Thatcher tells me.
"I don't think I can do this," I tell her. Part of me is so sick with nerves I could throw up. The other half of me is curious, and wants to stay to figure out why they took interest in me.
Thatcher looks alarmed at my words.
She grabs my hands, the gentlest touch I have received in a long time. "Listen, Aerys. I don't understand why they are interested in you. I won't lie to you. But this is the first time anyone in Alpha Thorran's management has ever taken interest in one of my students. You need to do this."
"What do they want with me?" I ask. I'm attempting to ignore the fact that she is using me for her own gain.
"I'm not sure," she says, steely eyes clouding over with confusion. "But it must be great if our Alpha is involved with it. Tell me you'll take the opportunity."
Before I can say anything, there is a knock on her office door.
We exchange glances, before Thatcher stands, moving to open the door. I turn to look over my shoulder, as a very prompt woman walks in the door. And I know for sure, the future I planned for myself may not what Fate had in mind.
I'm not an easily intimidated girl. Never have been. But no one has induce a cold chill across the surface of my skin like the woman in front of me. Her eyes are a steely, intense hazel. Usually hazel is a warm, inviting colour. Not in this case. Her dark hair is pulled away from her face, revealing the sharp facial structure created by her jaw and her cheekbones. I don't know what hole she crawled out of, but it's clearly a very immaculate one. "Is your name Aerys Maria Sinclair?" she asks coolly. Her accent is Discipline Pack bred, but there is something about her that seems unnervingly unfamiliar. Foreign. I reach for the cool I keep deep within me. "Who's asking?' Ignoring the sharp glare Mistress Thatcher shoots me from the corner of my eye, I continue to smile sweetly. She returns my smile tightly, lacing her fingers together. "You may refer to me as Miss Tilsbury," she tells me. Her tone is no nonsense. Miss Tilsbury it is, I suppose. "I am a representative for a corporatio
Seeing this is making me shy away from my initial excitement. The facility is imposing, a building behind the main office scaling larger than any other. The plaster cladding is an ash grey, the windows tinted dark and reflective. The office is slightly warmer, manicured gardens consumed by small topiary line a gravel footpath up to the main doors. The other buildings are similar, with more windows. But outside the ajar car door, despite the cold atmosphere, birds chatter and cherry blossoms from the drive sweeten the air. "Inside, we will have your other contract ready for you to sign if you are willing," Tilsbury says, as I nervously slide out of the car, leaving the plush seats of the SUV behind. "And then we will proceed from there." I follow her as she abnormally strides along the gravel in her heels, leading me through the front door. My assumptions were that this is an office. But there is no reception desk, no manicured lady or short sofas partnered with sleek coffee tables
I didn't sleep easy that night. The bed had sunk into the shape of someone else, so all night, I shifted uncomfortably. The unknown haunt my dreams, the amount of times I woke not knowing where I was being ridiculous. I'm in the middle of nowhere, my fate unknown. Whoever sleeps in the rooms around me are surely as anxious about tomorrow. I take comfort in knowing I'm not the only one. The lack of curtains truly live up to their desired effect. Sun glared into my eyes the moment it rose, at some ungodly hour. As much as my body protested, I knew it was my cue to get up and face this undetermined day. Out of sheer habit, I made my bed. If this is anything like the institute I grew up in, someone would come in to check it, then scold me if it was done incorrectly. So I fold the sheets up, and decide to figure out what to wear. I wasn't allowed to bring any clothing or personal items with me. As much as it saddens me, I know I didn't own anything or significance. I'm sure all of it wil
I wasn't aware we would be meeting the Alpha so early. A sense of nervousness seems to settle over everyone. We all share the same disbelief. Perhaps if our Alpha did more public appearances, or didn't have the amount of rumour surrounding him that he does, then we wouldn't be so stricken with surprise. Juan leads us out of the building we all slept in, leading us toward one which towers so high above us, the shadow it casts chills me to my bone. The large doors are pushed open as we arrive, Juan ushering is in. Everyone is too stunned to utter a single word, as we look around what I assume is a gymnasium. Juan requires to all line up, which we all do without a word of protest uttered. I'm assuming the lot of us are too worried Thorranmay be watching to act out. I stand between Mira and Drayton. After what Drayton admitted, I'm nervous being in his presence. Why did he go to jail? Everyone here seems to have some history with delinquency, me included to a degree. It leaves me wonde
Even if I wanted to talk, I couldn't. Fright has seized my voice. The man standing in front of me is terrifying. He seems power and intimidation, eyes as blue as the foaming ocean, but as cold as chips of ice. The the fabric that covers his nose and mouth matches the hood pulled over his head, and the clothes close to his body. His jacket seems to be made out of a hardened mesh fabric - as if to drain away the blood of an unfortunate victim - with hardened panels on the breast area and shoulder. Whoever he is, I'm about to obey his every word. I wouldn't stand a chance against him. I can see the thickness of his muscle stature under his clothes. One wrong move on my part could mean the end of my life. He flicks a finger toward the door. It's covered in a leather glove, to leave no trace of himself. It's frightening. I noticed the camera's mounted in the corners of the room yesterday. Are they not seeing this? Following the silent instruction, I quickly hustle into the corridor, the
The next day, no one spoke. It seemed as though there was a shared understanding that we wouldn't mentioned what happened last night. Whatever the interrogation was in relation to, it included our greatest insecurities. They targeted my family. The one thing I have. Or had. Everyone else seemed just as troubled, stares glazed over, lips tight shut. By the swollen black bruises on Raynard's face the next morning, accompanied by the seeping cuts plastered over by thin strips of gauze, he has something to hide. Something that required him to be so stubborn. "Anyone know what this training is going to entail?" Dax asks. I like Dax. He seems kind, thus far. His eyes are so gentle and warm. I hope I can trust him throughout this. It's Drayton who shrugs. "Something demeaning I'm sure." To be honest, I have no idea what today has in store. Thorran is such an enigmatic figure, whatever is going on within his mind is unknown to all of us. If it's anything like last night, I'm not sure how
"There has to be a mistake." Juan had his back turned to me, dismissing me. I had tracked him all the way to his office, which was in a building I was technically not prohibited to enter. Which is why I had caught him right before he had entered. And at my presence, he did not look all that fazed. However, he should have seen this coming. With one hand on the glass door to his office building, Juan looks back at me. He's all the more intimidating when he's irritated. All I want to know is why my Alpha's name is upon my piece of paper. His eyes drift down to the letter grasped within my fingertips. "I don't make mistakes." "Clearly you have," I say, wishing I had the piece of mind to speak less aggressively to the person who has a say in whether I stay in this competition or not. "I don't remember there being a competitor named Thor in my group. Especially with the title Alpha!" Juan sighs deeply, raising an eyebrow at me pointedly. "Is that sarcasm?" I bite back some kind of reto
I startle so hard, whoever is in the other end of that voice loses their grip on me.My senses are jumbled, knocked all over the place from the darkness. Seeing no other option, I run in whatever direction I can. I don't care about the bramble that catches around the hem of my pants. Nor do I care about the low hanging branches and twigs that snap in my face as I frantically run blindly in one direction.Head first into a tree.A flash of bright light in my vision blinds me for a moment. I stand still, gripping my hands to my head, waiting for the spike of pain to diminish.A rumble of a laugh from behind me. "There are things we learn the hard way, don't we?"Twisting around, I stare blindly into the darkness. My breathing is so rapid, I can hardly hear if the man in front of me is talking. Whoever they may be, there is a potential they are out here to kill me. Or...Or..."I think you need to calm down."Embarrassment is the first feeling. Followed by relief, which is soon consumed b