Twenty eight

Moore.

The moment I heard the door to the locker room click shut behind the last Cleaner, I allowed myself to exhale a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. The day had been a nightmare, and the thought of changing out of these degrading clothes and into something that felt remotely like mine was the only thing keeping me sane. I waited a few minutes more, listening carefully for any lingering footsteps. Satisfied that I was finally alone, I hurried over to my locker.

My fingers fumbled with the combination, exhaustion making even the simplest tasks seem insurmountable. The harsh fluorescent lights overhead buzzed, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. It matched perfectly with how I felt inside—drained, exposed, like an open wound under a relentless, glaring light.

When the locker door swung open, I pulled out my neatly folded clothes, the dress from the boutique and quickly began to change. The skimpy dress Athena had forced on me—tight, uncomfortable, a gesture of mockery