Freed and Filled

Chapter 3 - Harlie

My scalp aches from the tightness of my bun and my leg throbs from the healing bruise, but I wriggle into my tights and slip on my shoes before standing at the foot of my bed, keeping my complaints to myself. Stacy tries to hide her shivering, but goosebumps cover her arms.

The blonde orderly shoots me a scathing glare before striding from the room, displeased over an uneventful night. Two omega Subjects follow her, apprehension tightening their faces.

I straighten my spine and offer Stacy a soft smile before I catch myself and stare straight ahead. The head orderly steps in front of me, her eyes trained on her tablet. When she flicks her attention to me, I focus on the wall behind her.

She checks my bruised leg before turning to the orderly behind her. When she pivots back to me with a small white strip on her palm, I blink a few times before meeting her stare.

"Put this on and follow Orderly 701 to your next assessment."

"Yes, ma'am," I say as I take the No Smell and smooth it under my nostrils. Dread builds in my stomach as two Enforcers join our trek down the hall, but I narrow my attention to Orderly 701's pitch black hair and block out the rest of the world.

When she turns down a hall I've never gone down before, my steps falter. The Enforcer behind me pushes my right shoulder, and for a moment, I pitch forward. Wheeling my arms, I fight for balance and scurry forward before I fall, refusing to give him another reason to touch me.

Even through his gloves and my dress, my skin shrivels in disgust at his abuse.

The hair on my nape rises. Unlike silence or the beeping of machines, sounds of agony leak under the doors. A low groan twists my guts. I ball my hands into fists as an animalistic, pitiful whine seeps from the next room. My heart skyrockets into my throat as screams reverberate off the walls.

We trudge onward, my slippers gaining a pound with every step. Premonition coats the floor with tar, making it difficult to put one foot in front of the other.

The orderly punches a keypad and turns down a smaller hall. Deafening silence fills the white

corridor, the soundproofing so extreme I can't hear the humming of the fluorescent lights.

When she passes a door and stands on the opposite side of the keypad, the world spins as I grapple for oxygen. The Enforcers' oppressive size crowd me, forcing me to stand directly in front of the door as the alpha on my right uses the keypad.

Two beta Directors, one female and one male, stand on the left side of the room. A nurse stands with her hands clasped in front of her on the right. One hospital bed lies surrounded by a slew of machines in the center.

Nausea grips me so hard I sway.

The body on the bed isn't right. A head, burnt beyond recognition, lies on the pillow. A sheet covers him from the neck down, but it does nothing to hide what he lacks.

He has no limbs. In fact, the size of the lump can't be large enough for his entire torso.

A massive hand pushes me inside the room. I walk forward with lead feet as the Enforcers crowd me toward the little round stool tucked between the machines. I swallow the bile creeping up the base of my throat.

"Sit. You have thirty seconds to prepare yourself, then the experiment will begin," the female Director instructs.

I breathe through my nose and stare at the white sheet, my eyes drawn to the misshapen lump. No matter how hard I try, I can't look away.

"Subject 733, lift your right hand," the male Director says.

My arm moves in response to his flat tone, survival instincts kicking in and taking over my body. Every synapse in my brain stalls, blanking my mind as I prepare for the upcoming onslaught.