Page 59 of Web of Lies
Omega:
The work is done. The rabbit will bleed.
Alpha:
Excellent.
Well, double fuck.
Despite what the weirdos said through text messages, my Friday remained normal. I stayed invisible with a bit of taunting and teasing here and there. But nothing major happened. I tried my locker again, relieved to see maintenance had a heart. No shit remained behind inside, and the toilet paper no longer clung to the outside. The smell disappeared, and it relieved me. It’s like it never happened.
Honestly, I expected a visit from Mr. Shaw again, but it never came. Apparently, writing on doors is a no-no worth a five hundred dollar fine, but shit in a locker is cleanable? What’s their logic? Their logic probably grew a conscience after my father called and bitched Headmaster Shaw out for giving me a fine with zero proof that I had committed a crime. Leave it to my big, bad, intimidating father to bark orders at a headmaster and get his way.
By Monday, my skin is crawling. Spiders tingle up my feet and legs, spinning their anxiety-ridden web. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Don’t be the damn rabbit they’re calling you. If they could just, you know, not be so cryptic in their text messages, I could have a head start. But I don’t. Even withAntiEyes, or I’m assuming it’s on all their phones, they’re cryptic as fuck. They didn’t text much over the weekend; only the occasional “my part is done Alpha”—bullshit.
With sweaty palms and a heart about to explode, I make my way through the hallways. Most everyone steers clear of me. Some sneer and yell snide comments, getting a dig here and there. But that’s nothing new. I’m used to their harsh words.
When I stop in front of my locker, everything around me ceases to exist. Right there in front of me, two words are cut into the metal of my locker, much like a tattoo to the flesh. It’s permanent, going nowhere, and it stings. Much like a wasp on the attack, digging its stinger in, it burrows into the back of my mind, resurfacing memories and taunts from years ago.
Dumbass freak.
Sometimes I doubt myself. Sometimes I want to curl up in a ball because of my mind. I’m distant, oblivious to the world around me, easily distracted, and more often than not, I hyper-focus. Usually, it’s movies or TV shows. I enjoy the classics likeSupernatural,Stranger Things, andThe Walking Dead.My mother got me hooked onGrey’s Anatomyonce.
I watched every season, knew every line and scenario by heart. But it’s how my brain works and how I process my chaotic life. These shows—these movies are home to me, a place to settle my anxiety and pain. So, this name carved into my locker isn’t the first time it’s appeared. And I’m sure it won’t be the last.
At my old school, it wasn’t perfect, far from it. I had friends—okay, a friend—and a few tormentors. Girls who thought their shit smelled like roses, and everyone wanted a whiff. And me? I was the shit beneath their shoes because I was different. And not that—I’m different from other girls—type of situation. Truly different.
Normally being who I am doesn’t bother me. I’m happy with who I am. I’m happy with how I cope with and process information. Proud of who my family is and how they support me. But I never jump on stage and yell:I HAVE AUTISM HEAR ME ROAR. I’m not ashamed, far from it. They look at you differently. They pity you, thinking you’re slow or retarded. Bleh — I hate that word. And kids? Well, kids are fucking mean when they find out. Like now. They’ve carved it on my locker.
A manicured hand hits the locker next to mine, knocking me out of my thoughts. “I know it was you,” Hadley hisses in my ear; the malice in her voice raises the hair on the back of my neck. I swallow hard.
“What exactly did I do now?” I sigh, spinning the dial of my lock, pretending I need to get in there.
Hadley slams the metal again with a demon-like shriek. “You know what you did, you dumbass bitch,” she shrieks every word like a banshee, piercing my eardrums and making them bleed.
“I’ve done nothing but try to attend classes.” Which is the truth, kind of. I mean, I hacked her medical files and showed the world. But that bitch took a picture of me poopingafterpoisoning me with laxatives. All is fair in love and war, or so they say.
She shrieks again, turning my body, and slamming my back into the lockers. Air rushes from my lungs with an umph. “I know it was you because your picture got taken down, and thatbullshitreport was put up.” Her white teeth chomp in my face, rancid breath spewing in front of my nose.
“Ew—Hadley, have a Tic Tac. I think you need one.” I try to wave a hand in front of my face, but I’m immobilized.
Hadley’s heavy fist heaves into my stomach, crumpling my body forward. I gasp for air. She slams her knee into my nose, pushing me to the hard, unforgiving ground. Pain explodes in my skull at the force of her knee, blood-spewing down my chin. Tiny knives stab at my cheeks when I try to wiggle my nose.
“You broke it!” I yell, trying to punch her, but several other girls grab my arms, pinning me to the ground. Four bodies lay across my legs. Even moving an inch becomes impossible. Hadley straddles my chest, looking far too pleased with herself.
“I didn’t do a thing,” she mocks, uncapping a marker. My eyes widen a fraction as the cool tip of the marker glides across my forehead. “And now the entire world will know all about your little medical condition.” Her gross tits hang in my face, pushing against my throbbing nose. Hands remain on me, forcing me to stay where I am. “Dumbass Freak is her name from now on!” Hadley shouts to the hallway crowded with onlookers enjoying the show. “Our little rabbit, the dumbass freak!” She says to me again, flashing a smirk from the deepest, darkest depths of hell.
Wait—rabbit? Bleed? Oh—shit.
“You know, an Omega is the lowest hanging fruit in a pack.” I grind out, staring up at her.
Her eyes widen, the marker dropping to the ground, and her skin pales. She swallows hard, “What?” she whispers now, body rigid with fear sparking behind her evil eyes.
“I may be the rabbit, but at least I’m not the omega who takes orders from an alpha who can’t even do his own dirty work.” Stupid. Stupid. I’m so stupid. WHYYYY, do I say these things without thinking it through? They’ll know now that I spy on them.
She pushes off me, snapping her fingers. Everyone in the hallway marches back to their classes after watching their entertainment for the day. Not her. She stands there like a deer in headlights, looking at me like I’m crazy. And maybe I am, but by her reaction, she is Omega. She’s part of that weird-ass Apocalypse cult, and I just found her out. She should feel fear.
I lightly wipe my nose with my hand, dragging blood against my palm. I stare down at the deep red pooling in my palm and smile.
