Page 321 of The Bonding Games: Part 1

In the aftermath, I lay there unmoving.

He is gone now, as he had to attend an important meeting with the rest of The Council.

He left an hour ago.

I counted every second.

Sometimes, that is how long it takes to come back to myself afterwards; others, I continue on as if nothing has happened at all.

I leave any emotions behind in whichever room I was violated.

Finally, I blink. There are no tears. Not now, not ever. They never fall. Not if I am awake to stop it.

Like a robot, the good machine my father likes me to be, I push myself up into a sitting position, before shifting around to touch my feet to the cold taalk floor.

I stand.

My legs walk me soundlessly to the bathroom connected to my bedroom.

I stop before the mirror.

Take in the hideous reflection staring back at me.

With a scream, the glass smashes into smithereens.

Blood sprays everywhere.

32

ALBY

Everyone seems a little off today. Something just doesn’t feel right, and everyone knows it.

It’s making my nervousness even worse than usual, and it’s not because I sometimes wonder if another horde of Exots are about to drop from the ceiling at any given moment and charge at us—though that has been another worry of mine since the attack, and I’ve even discreetly studied some of the Exots here to make sure it was none of them. It doesn’t seem to be, and none of the other men in my Bonded group have even brought that night up again, all reading the warning, and something more, in our Bonded’s tone when she said to never speak of it and heeding it well. So it isn’t that even though I do feel on edge when I think about it. No, it’s . . .

Ezla has been ruthless. Even more so than normal.

Embarrassingly, I almost sobbed because of her cruel words and harsh rebukes, and yet I couldn’t find any anger within me to pair with the pain. Because I, like all the other men, can tell something’s happened with our Bonded, and we don’t need to feel her emotions to know that.

Not that she ever really lets us to begin with.

“Focus, Alby.” Scotty’s tense words are accompanied by a stiff smile as he attempts to encourage me. “Archery is your best skill.”

Arrow Tag is the next Game, so this week, Ezla has us extra focused on our bows and arrows. But I’m making a complete fool out of myself.

In the archery room that can be accessed through a door by the treadmills in the main section of the Training Centre, I fire my third arrow—

And miss again.

“29!”

I flinch at Ezla’s biting reproach.

“Ezla, lay off—”

Scotty’s attempt at calmly and peacefully defusing the situation fails and backfires.

“Fifty push-ups, 38.”