Outcast

By RaeLynn Fry

Karis won’t let anyone hold her back. Not even Ethan...

Things have changed for Karis since coming back from Dahn. Right and wrong are not what they used to be. Loved ones are not who they claim to be. And now she must make a choice...
It's been eighty-five days.
Eighty-five days since the Corporation took my little brother, Ajna, into the Inner City as a Sponsor.
Eighty-five days since I almost died from a faulty Mark I got from the Black Market.
Eight-five days since my heart last fluttered at the thought of Ethan.
I never thought life could be harder than what it was before I went into Dahn and met the Corporation's President, Akin Hughes; but I'm learning how much worse it can get.
It's been eighty-five days since I realized I can't be held back by anyone who doesn't agree with me. Even if that someone is Ethan.
Karis has changed. So has Ethan. And their differences are pulling them apart. While Karis is focused on getting Ajna back, and getting closer to someone else, Ethan is trying to figure out a way to take down his father. With the lack of readiness from the citizens of Neech, his hand is forced by someone thought to be dead, and Ethan and Dhevan must go on a journey that they may not come back from.

OUTCAST is the second book in the young adult dystopian series, The Corporation. Set in a world where the strongest corporation has all the power and control, Karis navigates secret agendas, betrayal, dark secrets, found family, and promises to take down anyone that gets in her way–no matter who it is.

Fans of The Giver, Blood Red Road, Want, Divergent & The Hunger Games will love adding The Corporation series to their favorites list!

Praise for The Corporation series:

* * * * * “I wish I could read faster so I could finished the book...The end of CASTE had me rushing to get to the next page” - Reader Review

* * * * * “I truly enjoyed this story and was surprised at the ending, but there is more to come.” –Goodreads Review

* * * * * “I loved the story and the fact that RaeLynn managed to build such a story, avoiding the standards the present society puts, such as the excess toxicity and abusive behaviour.

Waiting for more and becoming one of your biggest fans.” –Goodreads Review

The Corporation Series:

Book 1, Caste
Novella, Heir
Book 2, Outcast
Book 3, Untouchable

• Language: English
• Publisher: RaeLynn Fry
• Release date: Nov 30, 2023
• ISBN: 9798215597873

RaeLynn Fry

The first thing you need to know about RaeLynn Fry is that she hates writing about herself in the third person, but she has been told it is more "professional", so this is her attempt at being a grown up.​RaeLynn loves all things Young Adult: books, tv shows, movies, discussions. She loves the newness that YA brings and the experiences that come with growing up. She reads and writes voraciously; sometimes it just takes her a little longer than others to finish.She has been married for a LONG time and has two beautiful girls. She lives in the amazing state of Idaho and loves doing anything outdoors. She used to be a competitive Irish dancer and if you ask nicely, she may just dance you a genuine jig. She has an unhealthy obsession with expensive handbags and too-tall high heels. And office supplies. And books. And fine point pens (because those are, honestly, the only kind any of you lot should be using). She loves the X-Files and Jesus, but not in that order.Overall, she's pretty laid back, disorganized, and pretends to have an astute attention to detail. But that is a lie she will readily admit. She also has a killer personality and great sense of humor.She has a passion for writing and supporting the writing community and young authors. She is one of the founding members of #TheWriterCommunity.She authors the YA Dystopian series: Caste, Heir, Outcast, and Untouchable (coming 2022); all books in The Corporation Series. There are many more amazing books on the horizon, so you'll always be entertained. ;)​There, she did it. How'd she do?

Book preview

Outcast

A Corporation Novel

RaeLynn Fry

image-placeholder

Terebinth Tree Publishing

Sale of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as unsold or destroyed and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, business establishments, or events is entirely coincidental.

OUTCAST

All rights reserved.

Published by Terebinth Tree Publishing

Copyright © 2016 by RaeLynn Fry

Cover art by Rachel Bennett

Image from iStock Photos

This book is protected under the copyright law of the United States of America. Any reproduction or other unauthorized use of the material or artwork here in is prohibited without the express written permission of the author.

First Printing: May 2016

Printed in the United States of America

First Edition: May 2016

ISBN: 0989213463

ISBN-13: 978-0-9892134-6-2

Dedicated to my amazing husband and beautiful baby girl. I love you both with your whole hearts. <3

Contents

1. PROLOGUE

2. Karis

3. Ethan

4. DAY ONE

5. Karis

6. Ethan

7. Karis

8. Ethan

9. Karis

10. Ethan

11. DAY TWO

12. Ethan

13. Karis

14. Ethan

15. Karis

16. Ethan

17. Karis

18. Ethan

19. Karis

20. Ethan

21. Karis

22. Ethan

23. DAY THREE

24. Ethan

25. Karis

26. Ethan

27. Karis

28. Ethan

29. Karis

30. Ethan

31. Karis

32. DAY FOUR

33. Ethan

34. Karis

35. DAY FIVE

36. Karis

37. Ethan

38. DAY SIX

39. Karis

40. Ethan

41. DAY NINE

42. Ethan

43. Karis

44. Ethan

45. Karis

46. Ethan

47. DAY TEN

48. Ethan

49. Karis

50. Ethan

51. DAY ELEVEN

52. Ethan

53. Karis

54. Ethan

55. Karis

56. Ethan

57. DAY TWELVE

58. Karis

59. Ethan

60. Karis

61. DAY FOURTEEN

62. Ethan

Also By RaeLynn Fry

About RaeLynn Fry

Acknowledgments

PROLOGUE

Karis

Waking up in the morning is getting harder and harder, even though nothing about my morning ritual has changed. I’m still awake before the sun. I still meet Journey and go to work at the factory. I still have my chores to do. I’m a small cog in an impossibly large, grinding machine that never shuts off. 

But my brother and my Pair, Kavin, aren’t part of my routine anymore and that rubbing fact makes it near impossible to go on as if nothing has changed; as if everything is normal. Life is as far from normal as I thought it could ever get. 

How can the world keep turning when it’s lying in a thousand jagged pieces at my feet? 

Ajna is with a monster. I don’t know if he’s safe, what he’s doing, what the Corporation is doing to him. Scariest of all, I don’t know if I’m ever going to see him again. My brother is with Akin Hughes—the Corporation’s President—and I don’t know if that keeps him protected or in more danger. 

So yeah, I guess today is just like every other day since coming back to Neech—a day in a life I never thought I’d have to live. 

I’m standing in the doorway to my bedroom, leaning my shoulder up against the frame. I can’t iron out the creases in my furrowed brow. It’s my body’s reaction every time I walk down the hallway past my room. I take a slow breath through my nose, but the knots in my face don’t loosen.

The small space is a mess. It smells. I can’t use it. I’m sleeping in Ajna’s room. And the cause of this upheaval is lying unconscious in my bed; dirtying up my sheets; fouling up my air. What’s worse? I’ve been assigned to look after him. Yeah, the Untouchable may have loads of information, but with this minor issue of him being nonresponsive, it seems I’m the only one who has recognized his actual uselessness.

Keep that look on your face much longer, and it’s gonna to stay that way. Papa walks past me. 

I can’t help it, I say, trying not to taste the air as I talk. Why does he have to be here? In our house? In my room?

Karis. Uh-oh. It’s that tone again. He’s been using it a lot lately; with me. You know good and well why. It’s too dangerous to move him and he may have information we can use.

May, I breathe out. I spin around and look up into Papa’s scruffy face. The lines seem to get worse while he sleeps. I should be out there doing something, I gesture to the streets, out there looking for Ajna, helping Ethan. Not in here, taking care of a man who does nothing but sleep and who smells like Dhevan’s pigs. My frustration is plain and well-known.

That’s a great idea.

My eyes widen and I let the corners of my mouth turn up just a little. You finally agree?

Absolutely.

I narrow my eyes ever so slightly, the pale smile that was forming, has disappeared from my lips. Papa’s failed to agree with anything I’ve said of late. You’ll let me help Ethan out more and start taking the steps needed to get Ajna back?

I agree you need to do something and that our guest smells like Dhevan’s pigs. When you get off your shift tonight, you should probably clean him up a bit and change your sheets. In fact, I’ll move him into Ajna’s room today.

I clench my teeth and try to push down the sudden anger that’s flared up like a fire in my gut. I don’t want to say anything I’m going to regret when I look back on this moment. I love my papa with all my heart and I’d do anything for him. He’s all I have left, I remind myself, and I don’t like where our relationship has been going lately.

Now get off to work or you’ll be late. He kisses the top of my forehead and walks down the stairs. 

But... I can’t find the words. It doesn’t matter anyway, Papa’s already gone. I clench my teeth again and growl—actually growl—before shooting the most offensive glare I can at our guest. You’d better wake up soon, I say, because I’m tiring of this. I turn on my heel and stomp down the stairs.

Ethan

The room is quiet. Breakfast is on the table. I touch the outside of the bowl. Still warm. Eta left not too long ago. I sit down to eat and see a tiny scrap of paper pinned underneath my meal.

Go help Dhevan in the fields. I don’t need you today.

Well, there’s a whole lotta love behind those words, I say to myself. I wolf down the bland, glue-like porridge and head out the door. 

Karis hadn’t been joking when she told me that all of Neech was awake before the sun rose, but Eta’s up before even that. She has to be, in order to get to all of her rounds before they have to be to work. 

I wish I had the self-control to wake up as early as she does, but my body still longs for the cushy life of Dahn, with its late mornings and deliciously filling breakfasts. 

Being in Neech is so outside of my element. I have a hard time being myself. I’m off balance. Sometimes, though, I think that the off-centeredness of being in the Outer City is helping me find my real self; that who I was in Dahn wasn’t who I was supposed to be. When I get that feeling, I don’t know what to do with it. So I push it aside.

I think the thing that disturbs me the most about the Outer City, is how overwhelmingly empty it feels. It doesn’t matter if the streets are full, everyone moves about like they’re lost souls looking for their door, hardly making a sound or imprint in the world they’re in. It’s eerie. I much prefer to be out in the late hours of the day when there’s no one around. At least the silence feels normal. 

There are only a handful of citizens out right now, all looking the same—heads ducked, shoulders hunched. Dusters and masks and scarves pulled up around their necks and mouths. The constant buzz of the filters echoes around me, an impossible-to-ignore white noise. The other citizens are used to it and don’t give it a second thought, it seems. But coming from the filterless streets of the Inner City, it’s a steady companion, always at the edge of my consciousness.

Hell. I hate comparing everything to Dahn. But it’s inevitable. 

It’s been eighty-five days since Karis and I got back into Neech and sixty-four days since my father came for Ajna. Sometimes, on the terrible days, I wish I were back home, in Dahn. That I’d never met Karis and been dragged into this world that I’ve found I know nothing about. I’m a piece of a puzzle, but not one that fits anywhere here. 

I’d been lying to myself all along, thinking that I belonged here, in the slums, rather than the golden streets of the Inner City. I’d told myself that I was adaptable and could survive anywhere. But that was before my feathered mattress and hot baths were taken away. Before I knew what it was like to fight for Neech’s limited fresh water supply, hoping to get at least a few drops. Before I knew what it was like to have your stomach juices digest your stomach because it had nothing else to consume. Before I knew the anxiety and worry of wondering if those you love would live long enough to see tomorrow. Before I knew the people of Neech hated me.

At first, it was easy to continue being who I was—Ethan William Hughes. To be the one that Karis could lean on. The one that Jeret and Eta could come to count on. The leader of our slowly growing pool of resistance could rely on to get them through this. Whatever this was. It was before I started not knowing what to do. What to say. Before the nightmares.

Days have turned into weeks and weeks into months. There’s no sign of Ajna being rescued. In the Inner City, Ella has gone mute. The Corporation is a silent, sleeping beast in the middle of the cities, waiting for the opportune moment to devour us with one swift bite. I know it’s coming, but I don’t know when or how.

I’m an orchid sent to survive in the driest of deserts. I’m not made for the Outer City. 

It’s at these lowest moments that something buried deep inside me is unearthed, and I know I can survive. I know I will open my eyes after the night is done and again see the sun and hold in my arms those I care most about. Today is another morning, proving the night has not overtaken me, yet.

I stick to the main parts of the Outer City as much as possible. My father knows I’m here, but I don’t need him to pinpoint my exact location by moving through different Gates and passing every Guard on duty. I’ve been refraining from using my Mark as much as possible. Which puts an even bigger burden on those keeping me here. Eta only has rations for one, and Karis and Jeret’s rations have been decreased since the Corporation Sponsored Ajna. And then there’s Sai, the Sharma’s illegal infant daughter.

Thinking of that brings the weight of the world back to my shoulders. How am I going to stop the Corporation? Every day I see the Outer City dying, piece by piece. It turns my stomach when I think about everything everyone has back home and the nothingness everyone lives on here. But changing the way the world works isn’t as easy as I thought it would be. 

I thought I’d be able to blaze into Neech, give a handful of rousing speeches, and lead an army to the Main Gate, ready and eager to take down my father. But it’s going to take a lot more than words to build up the courage I need them to have, I just don’t know what that is. 

The people here are miserable and bitter, but they all want to keep their heads down, they don’t want to risk making things worse than they already are. None of them will do what needs to be done to make a difference. They’d all rather complain and have someone to blame for their lot in life. 

That’s not how I work. I take action. But I’m having a hard time finding someone to take action with me. Karis is sidetracked; part of me blames her and part of me understands. She helps me out when she can, but she seems... distracted. And it’s not like we have a lot of time to talk about it. That’s another thing on my list, right under Destroy the Corporation—Fix things with Karis.

Not long before I left for Neech, my father gave me a note. I hate to admit it, but sometimes he knows me better than I know myself. He had planned on me leaving Dahn for something greater, and he let me go. 

I keep the letter in the top drawer of my dresser as a reminder and make myself read it when I get up in the morning and before I go to bed at night. I had it memorized it by the second day. 

Get in my way, and I take the boy from her in a way that can’t be undone.

DAY ONE

Karis

Iturn over in my bed, twisting the rough sheets against my bare legs, and groan. I bury my face deeper into the thin pillow. My internal alarm still goes off at the usual hour, but my body is more reluctant to get up than it was the day before. 

I roll over and dig the heels of my hands into my eyelids, pressing down as hard as I can stand. The motion releases something in me, an easy discomfort, giving me the motivation I need to wake up and face the coming hours. 

I drag my legs over the side of the bed and pause, hunched over, letting my feet get used to the cold of the floor. Fall is in full force and everything in the house is cold. I don’t do well with the cold. It turns me into someone with a short temper and constant frown. I shuffle over to my dresser and grab my brush, mechanically running it through my long hair, not having even half the effort in my body to care that I’m missing most of the tangles. 

The medicine Rebeka gave Ethan, and me worked against my faulty Mark, but I still look like I should be six feet under the ground and not walking around on top of it. I haven’t been able to gain back all the weight that I lost, partly because we don’t have enough rations to make any difference and partly because I don’t have much of an appetite. 

My eyes aren’t as hollow, but there is a shadow beneath them that won’t go away—a lingering bruise testifying to my recent abuse. My cheek and collarbones are more defined and look like you could lift me up by them. My color isn’t as bright. I look a little more... worn. 

I slip on a pair of pants and a shirt worn to softness and attempt to motivate myself to start the day. I’m tucking in my shirt when two knocks sound at my bedroom door. Then I hear Papa heading down the stairs. Two knocks means he’s finished changing the Untouchable and I get to start my babysitting duties. 

I furrow my brow and sigh, grinding my molars just a little more than I already was, and head to my brother’s old room. I don’t know why I have to be the one to take care of this smelly new visitor. I have other, more important things to do with my time—like getting Ajna back and figuring out how we can escape the Corporation and Akin. 

I twist the knob in my hand and push the door open. The top corner catches in the frame and makes a loud sound as it frees itself. Papa and Eta always try to be quiet and respectful, like he’s taking a nap or something. Me? I don’t care. He’s not waking up and I don’t see the point of being respectful. 

My nose wrinkles on its own at the stench that permeates the room. It’s not as bad as it was when he first got here, but it’s still noticeable; like he’s stained the walls and furniture and everything else with his stink. I doubt it will ever come out. 

I make my way, dragging my feet and taking my time over to the side of the bed. Papa set up a small, wooden chair next to the headboard, within arm’s reach of the nightstand. There’s a small bowl of water and a worn rag waiting for me. The water isn’t much, but with our already meager rationed amount, it’s a significant sacrifice. And it’s being wasted. 

I’d told Papa as much—that we might as well just pour it out into the dirt. He’d given me one of his really disappointed looks before walking away. 

The Untouchable is lying on his back, more or less in the same position we put him in almost three months ago. Papa and Eta change his position throughout the day to prevent sores and to help with his muscles fading, but every morning, he’s back in this same position. The blanket is tucked around his torso, arms at his sides. 

His matted, dirty hair is splayed across the pillow. It’s long—almost to his shoulders—and tangled and knotted at the ends. Near his head, at the roots, it’s gathered together in oily clumps. Taking care of his hair must not be a top priority for him.

Dirt that looks three years old outlines his face and gathers at his hairline and collects in the creases of his sun-worn face. I’m pretty sure it’s permanent. His skin is a dark brown, tanned more by the sun from what I guess is an already dark pigmentation. It doesn’t look soft or anything at all like real skin; more like the hide of Dhevan’s pigs or the leather made from his cows down at the tannery. 

The smell clogs my nostrils as I hover over him. I screw my face up into a disgusted sneer. Another subconscious action my body has developed around him. I close my eyes and relax my features, trying not to gag. It’s hard to believe that he and I have come a long way since he first got here. 

In the beginning, I refused to even go into the room. Papa had to threaten me with everything he could think of, including a good whipping, to get me in there to take care of him. In the end, it was my guilt that did me in. I would describe my current mindset towards him as tolerable with a sliver of disgust. I’m working on being a little more civil and warm towards him, as Papa says. That’s why I started talking to him while I clean.

Why did you have to even come here? I ask as I sit down. Are you really even unconscious? You’re probably just faking all of this. I put the rag in the bowl and in a matter of seconds, it soaks up most of the water. 

I run my eyes over the parts of his body not covered by ragged clothes or thin blankets. I’ve already washed his right hand and arm, so I take hold of his left side. I decide to start with his hands, at the fingers. That doesn’t require getting too intimate. 

It started out innocently enough, our conversations. I had no one to talk to about all the thoughts pressing at the seams of my mind. Ethan has enough on his shoulders with the resistance. Or is it the rebels? He keeps changing the name, trying to find something that will inspire and motivate people. I’ve tried telling him it’s not about what they’re called. He hasn’t listened yet. Papa sits on his hands or goes down to the Tavern with Déjà when he’s not busy at the mill. I’m the only one who actually wants to do anything to bring Ajna back home, and the only one I can talk to about it without being criticized is the Untouchable. But that doesn’t make us friends.

I sit on the edge of the chair and lean forward, stretching out my hand to rub at his fingers. His skin moves with the towel, preventing my efforts from having any noticeable result. I’m forced to touch him, to pick up his hand with my free one to hold the skin taught. 

I drag my chair across the floor and take his hand in mine. It’s warm. I don’t know why I didn’t think of that, and it’s an unexpected sensation. His palm is rough and calloused, like he’s been doing manual labor all of his life. I scrub again, and the dirt comes off a little easier than before. I can see a patch of cleaner skin underneath the marks of the towel and I realize that he’s a lighter tone than I originally thought. There’s that much dirt on him. 

I don’t know why Papa’s making me do this, I say. We need this water to survive, and it’s not like bathing you is going to make you magically wake up, or anything. 

I give him a sideways glance through my hair, to make sure it isn’t doing just that. I wait a few minutes before I speak again. 

A very evil man has taken my brother, and instead of doing what I’m supposed to be doing—going in and getting him—they have assigned me to take care of you and give you baths. Even you would see the ridiculousness in that.

For the rest of my time with the Untouchable, I scrub and wipe away as much dirt as possible. By the time I’m done, the towel is covered in grime and the back of his hand and fingers are clean. I push the chair back, grab the empty bowl and dirty towel, and stand. 

That’s all for this morning. I’ll see you tonight. I walk to the door. With my hand on the knob, I turn and look at the Untouchable one last time. I might as well call you something other than Untouchable all the time. I think about it for a second and then give a crafty smile. I think Gandā will do. I open the door and step through. Until tonight, Gandā.

When I get downstairs, the fire’s already going and porridge is steaming in two bowls on the table. Another giveaway that things are far from normal. I’ve always been the one to start the day, not Papa. 

Mornin’. Hungry? Papa’s tending the fire, but stops briefly to glance up at me. How’s the Untouchable? His eyes are weary, but somehow, they get even wearier when they take me in. Gone are the dresses, slipper shoes, combed shiny hair. I’m solidly embracing the functionality of loose pants and shirts, boots, and the simplicity of whipping my hair up into a ponytail.

Gandā, I say as I sit down at the table, trying to ignore his look of frustration.

What?

I’ve named him.

And you chose Gandā? He’s not a pet, Karis. You can’t treat him like one.

I know he’s not a pet, Papa. And the name is perfect. It suits him very well.

He sighs and I try to ignore the disappointment that’s seeping my way as I sit down. It seems that name would suit you, too, he says. 

We have this same discussion every morning, and I’m sure he’s not eager to have it again. I know I’m not. He thinks that because I look the way I look, and that I don’t put as much effort into my appearance as I once did, that I don’t care anymore. But that’s not it at all. Other things are more important to me now than dresses and pretty hair. I hate this new us, but I can’t stop it from happening. 

I play our usual conversation over in my mind as I stare down at the lumpy, gray breakfast.

We need to keep livin’ our lives. The Outer City doesn’t stop just because Ajna’s not here.

And we can’t pretend like everything’s normal.

That’s not what I’m sayin’, Karis.

How do you even know he’s safe? We have no idea what they do to Sponsors, not really.

We have to believe he is and do what we can to get him back.

I’m glad we agree, because that’s what I’m doing. 

Not brushin’ your hair won’t stop the Corporation. Complainin’ constantly about helpin’ with the Untouchable won’t stop them, either. And neither will actin’ like a brat. 

Having pointless meetings and not taking action doesn’t stop the Corporation, either. 

Ethan says—

His brother isn’t the one who’s been taken! 

He cares for him as if he were.

It’s different.

Only because you make it that way.

Instead, Papa says, How’s our guest doin’?

I stab at the slop in my bowl with my spoon for a little while. Still sleeping, I mutter. I can feel Papa staring at me with a look on his face similar to displeasure mixed with frustration. I know he’s going over the same conversation I just did. 

He lets out a heavy sigh, our primary language of conversation, lately. What do you want me to do, Karis? His fingers ball into fists on the table. He looks at me like I’m a stubborn Candidate who’s disobeying him for the hundredth time. Tell me what I should be doin’ or could be doin’ better than what I’m doin’ now. Tell me what you would do if you were in my shoes and one child had been Sponsored and your other one is takin’ actions to bein’ taken from you, too. After your wife had been taken, as well.

His words hit me where I know he wants them to, but I am just as stubborn as he is. Oh, I dunno, how about actually getting Ajna back? I’m clutching my spoon in my hand, my grip so tight that the rough edges are digging into the pads of my fingers. Is this what you did when they came and took Mama from us? Just sat around doin’ somethin’? My heart pinches painfully. I shouldn’t have said that. I stare hard at the worn table top, too prideful and angry to apologize. 

You think I’m not doin’ anythin’? He’s ignoring my words, for now. But I can hear the pain in his voice. You think I’ve just forgotten about your brother? Papa’s gripping his spoon tight too, his knuckles are turning white. About your mama?

You act like you did before, like everything’s normal. Eat breakfast, watch the Bulletins, go to work, come home. I hardly ever see you at the meetings. I look up at him. You aren’t acting like you want to get him back. My heart pounds through my veins. I can feel it beating on my wrists and ears. 

We can’t go in there, weapons drawn, like you want to do. We have to be careful. We have to have a plan because you know good and well that Akin has his. And it will be a damn good one. Ethan’s right, we have only one chance.

That is so ridiculous! Everyone says that, but it’s just an excuse to do nothing. To let the Corporation take everything we have! Our voices are rising over one another.

But they already have done that, Karis! Papa shouts. And then he quiets. Don’t you see? There’s a new look in his eyes. He’s given up. Not on the situation, but on me. The Corporation took your mother. Akin took your brother. And you made a deal to be with him. I have nothin’ anymore. After you leave, that’s it. I’m alone. So you see, I have nothin’ to lose. There’s nothin’ they can threaten me with getting me to stop fightin’. 

Then do that! Fight! Let’s get Ajna back.

I’m so tired of the same ol’ arguments, Karis. I’m weary. Of it all. He takes a long, slow breath. Eat up before it gets cold, he says in a soft voice. 

I’m not all that hungry. I take a reluctant bite and try not to glance at Ajna’s empty seat. At the scratched chicken on the surface of the wood. It’s too quiet in here. I put my spoon down. I should get going. I push back my chair and stand. 

You haven’t even heard the Bulletin, yet. Papa reaches for our old television set, flipping it on. 

Does it even matter? It’s just going to say the same thing it always does. Lies. Besides, I need to meet Journey.

She wouldn’t have left home yet. It’s still about an hour from startin’ bell. People are disappearin’, Guard patrols have increased—it’s not safe to be alone right now, especially at dark.

I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Besides, it’s the men that are missing. No women. I walk over to the door and shrug on my duster, buttoning it up all the way. I’ll wait for her. I wind a rough wool scarf around my neck and pull on some gloves.

Karis, I can tell Papa’s on the verge of just giving up completely. I wouldn’t blame him. I’m already there.

See you at the meeting tonight, Papa. If you even bother to come, I don’t add. I snap the elastic bands of the mask behind my ears and close the door behind me. 

image-placeholder

I turn over in my bed, twisting the rough sheets against my bare legs, and groan. I bury my face deeper into the thin pillow. My internal alarm still goes off at the usual hour, but my body is more reluctant to get up than it was the day before. 

I roll over and dig the heels of my hands into my eyelids, pressing down as hard as I can stand. The motion releases something in me, an easy discomfort, giving me the motivation I need to wake up and face the coming hours. 

I drag my legs over the side of the bed and pause, hunched over, letting my feet get used to the cold of the floor. Fall is in full force and everything in the house is cold. I don’t do well with the cold. It turns me into someone with a short temper and constant frown. I shuffle over to my dresser and grab my brush, mechanically running it through my long hair, not having even half the effort in my body to care that I’m missing most of the tangles. 

The medicine Rebeka gave Ethan, and me worked against my faulty Mark, but I still look like I should be six feet under the ground and not walking around on top of it. I haven’t been able to gain back all the weight that I lost, partly because we don’t have enough rations to make any difference and partly because I don’t have much of an appetite. 

My eyes aren’t as hollow, but there is a shadow beneath them that won’t go away—a lingering bruise testifying to my recent abuse. My cheek and collarbones are more defined and look like you could lift me up by them. My color isn’t as bright. I look a little more... worn. 

I slip on a pair of pants and a shirt worn to softness and attempt to motivate myself to start the day. I’m tucking in my shirt when two knocks sound at my bedroom door. Then I hear Papa heading down the stairs. Two knocks means he’s finished changing the Untouchable and I get to start my babysitting duties. 

I furrow my brow and sigh, grinding my molars just a little more than I already was, and head to my brother’s old room. I don’t know why I have to be the one to take care of this smelly new visitor. I have other, more important things to do with my time—like getting Ajna back and figuring out how we can escape the Corporation and Akin. 

I twist the knob in my hand and push the door open. The top corner catches in the frame and makes a loud sound as it frees itself. Papa and Eta always try to be quiet and respectful, like he’s taking a nap or something. Me? I don’t care. He’s not waking up and I don’t see the point of being respectful. 

My nose wrinkles on its own at the stench that permeates the room. It’s not as bad as it was when he first got here, but it’s still noticeable; like he’s stained the walls and furniture and everything else with his stink. I doubt it will ever come out. 

I make my way, dragging my feet and taking my time over to the side of the bed. Papa set up a small, wooden chair next to the headboard, within arm’s reach of the nightstand. There’s a small bowl of water and a worn rag waiting for me. The water isn’t much, but with our already meager rationed amount, it’s a significant sacrifice. And it’s being wasted. 

I’d told Papa as much—that we might as well just pour it out into the dirt. He’d given me one of his really disappointed looks before walking away. 

The Untouchable is lying on his back, more or less in the same position we put him in almost three months ago. Papa and Eta change his position throughout the day to prevent sores and to help with his muscles fading, but every morning, he’s back in this same position. The blanket is tucked around his torso, arms at his sides. 

His matted, dirty hair is splayed across the pillow. It’s long—almost to his shoulders—and tangled and knotted at the ends. Near his head, at the roots, it’s gathered together in oily clumps. Taking care of his hair must not be a top priority for him.

Dirt that looks three years old outlines his face and gathers at his hairline and collects in the creases of his