Mara.
Gazing at the vast land beyond the dividing line lies true freedom. The grand houses were incredibly desirable. Someday, I hope to have a house with a pool and servants. But for now, I must return to reality and the work awaiting me in my modest little home.
The stark gap between us and them is harsh. It’s just the hand I’ve been dealt, without any say in the matter.
With an assignment due by midnight, I head back home to my solitary dwelling. We don’t own much beyond the basics we’re allowed.
As Omegas, we’ve been thrown into segregated units, the lowest rank in the social order. We’re confined to designated areas and forbidden from mingling with the Betas or Alphas.
Our schools lack resources, with only five computers in each. Our phones are monitored, and we’re stuck with second-hand devices from our stores that the upper ranks disposed of.
We were thrown into segregation units for the dumbest reason. We were the lowest-ranking wolves. Yes, that simple and stupid. The Alpha ruled supreme. Deltas, betas, gammas, and the alphas were perfect with no blemish.
I despised the rules; it was incredibly frustrating. As I walked past the grove of trees, I stopped in my tracks, glaring at a patch of dead grass.
A wry smile crossed my lips before I shook my head and continued on. Two bullies met their end at that spot and I witnessed it all. In the village, everyone seemed rushed.
Ah yes, the Festival of the Collectives. Another season to fret about, though I couldn't care less.
Before winter arrives, the Alpha will visit the Segregation. Our animal and farm produce tax returns will be tallied and presented to him. If we perform well, we might earn a few privileges.
Our hope is for electricity and internet access. It’s hard to submit assignments without sufficient internet. Only school and free Wi-Fi booths provide access to the Internet, but it is not secure. If they hate us so much, why do they feel the need to control us as if we’re terrorists?
And then there’s the punishment if the produce falls short and tax returns disappoint. Death awaits those who fail to meet expectations, not just them, but their entire families.
I’ve witnessed three families being executed, torn apart, and beaten to death on the wheel. No one wants to become part of those grim statistics. This year, there’s ample reason to worry. Many will be on that list.
A month into summer, Kavora struck us—a deadly flu that came out of nowhere. Many lost their jobs as factories shut down, leaving me unable to work.
Lives were abruptly disrupted, and I can’t help but think that access to medical care could have saved many. I find myself jobless, having not filed any tax returns.
The Alpha won’t be smiling this time. I toil away at the rubber factory, earning meager pay. I see no light at the end of the tunnel — and now, I can’t even see the end of the tunnel.
I collapse onto my couch, relieved to have finally completed the long trek home. As I close my eyes, a flurry of images flashes through my mind.
I could feel myself drifting into an abyss, surrounded by bubbles, my movements sluggish. Yes, I was submerged in some kind of liquid. From a distance, an indistinct figure drew closer. Ever since my accident, my mind has been foggy.
Suddenly, my eyes snapped open, and my sharp hearing detected a presence.
“Ding dong,” my doorbell chimed, interrupting me.
I sprang up and hurried to answer the door.
Upon opening it, Sasha burst into my house, frantic and sobbing.
“Mara, I’m doomed. I’ll be executed,” she cried out.
“It’s been tough for all of us, Sasha,” I comforted her, wrapping my arms around her. Sasha is my childhood best friend, we are very close and we share a lot in common. She is a witch, one of the best in the omega units.
She is married to her childhood sweetheart, Jake.
She buried her face in her hands. “Mara...” her voice cracked.
I hugged her. I understood her fear—she was heavily pregnant, due to give birth any day now.
"Last season, I witnessed Ronald’s execution right before my eyes. He didn’t produce anything. Now, I’m in the same situation. Jake fell ill and couldn’t work. My body kept failing me. We’ve survived on what little you’ve given us,” she lamented. I share whatever I have with her, at times I have had to stay hungry so she can at least feed herself and her baby.
I gently turned her to face me. “Nothing will happen to you, the baby, or Jake. I haven’t earned a penny since the factory closed down. It’s not your fault, dear,” I reassured her.
She continued to sob uncontrollably, and I rested my hand on her back, feeling the weight of worry settle upon me. I wished I could reassure her that everything would be alright, but uncertainty loomed over us as the festival approached.
She eventually calmed down after a few minutes.
“Mara, what happened?” Sasha asked, her hand touching my neck.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I just woke up with this. I’ve tried researching, but found nothing,” I replied. There was a bite mark on my neck that was not there yesterday. I honestly do not know who bit me, when, or how. I noticed the mark when I came from the bathroom after showering in the morning. I had to countercheck everything to ensure no snake was in my house. But nothing would explain why I had bite marks on my neck.
She gently tilted my head to the side. “I had this when Tom marked me,” she said.
“It could be a snake bite,” I suggested.
“Nah, it’s a wolf possession mark. Bite marks are like true love quotes written in the flesh, Mara,” Sasha insisted.
“Or marks of curses. I think I’m the latter.” I added.