Page 107 of Rite of Unity

“For the next forty-eight hours, you won’t be filmed, not even by surveillance footage.That means you don’t leave your room for any reason.No meals.Don’t answer the door.If the house is on fire, you burn with it.”His gaze met mine.“This is non-negotiable.Got it?”

I dipped my chin.

“Twelve.”

I looked up.

“It’s just forty-eight hours.”His face softened.“After this, the private trials are over.”He searched my face.“Got it?”

I inhaled and nodded.

When Paul had left, I tested the door, checking to ensure it wasn’t locked.Was it better that I could leave?Or worse?

I went to the bathroom, staring at the pill.Finally, I opened my mouth, popped it inside and held my head under the faucet, letting cold water fill my mouth, splash over my chin and cheeks, and slide down my throat.

I stood, staring in the mirror.My pupils seemed to dilate, but otherwise nothing happened.

In my room, I sat on my bed, lifting my bowl and spooning oats into my mouth.They were cold.I stood, moving to place the bowl on the bedside table.

A sound behind me had me spinning toward the window.Nothing.

I paced the room, counting my heartbeats.My pulse had sped up, but I couldn’t tell if it was the pill or nerves.When I’d followed a U shape from one far corner of my room to the other, more than a dozen times, I flung myself onto the bed.

My skin itched.My feet shook.My fingers found each other, lacing and unlacing on my stomach.I stared down my nose at them, letting my vision become unfocused to see what strange creatures I could picture.

Sitting up, I stared around the room, suddenly wishing for color.A splash of anything to give the space life.If I had paint, I could add a forest of green leaves like those I’d been swallowed in at The Eden.I missed that restaurant, its smells, the food.

Elias’s company.

I slid off the bed, touching my tablet screen.It had been less than an hour.I hadn’t felt trapped in my room before, but now, knowing I couldn’t leave, it was all I could think of.

Crossing the room, I leaned against the door, pressing my ear against the surface as I listened.Tinny voices carried through doors and walls, laughter.If this trial were completed individually, some of the women may not have their pills yet.Or some may have already taken them.Were they breaking the rules?Could I go to Nami’s room?Resume our conversation?

I shook my head.The trial instructions had been clear: forty-eight hours of isolation.No sleep, no food, no interactions.Then the test.If I broke any of those rules, I failed.

I sat on the bed, touching my tablet, scrolling through old rite instructions.

An eternity later, I checked the time on my tablet.It had been three hours.

***

Sometime after ten p.m., I’d given up my game of shadow puppets on the wall and stared up at nothing.

My thumb ran over the uneven edges of my fingernails.I glanced down, hissing.Dark red dotted my dress.I stood, rushing to the restroom and unrolling enough toilet paper to cover the three offending fingers.

Calden would have noticed.He would have commented.

I shook my head.Stop it, Maryn.

I tugged the dress over my head, stuffing it into the sink and let cold water run over the stains.The sink filled, water swirling in pink circles.Soon, the color had spread, staining the middle of the dress pale pink.

“Barren mother,” I swore, yanking the dress out of the sink and wringing it over the toilet.

I looked at my tablet.Midnight.

I’d survived fifteen hours.Thirty-three to go.

***