Page 215 of Caged

“I am helpless!” My answer rips from my chest, raw and aching. My heart hurts. My soul hurts.

I’m so, so tired.

“I have no power. No control. I can’t even—” I cough. The taste of iron fills my mouth and the back of my tongue. I swallow it down.

Then… I let go.

Not forever, but for now. I’ve hit my limit.

But Daxen pushes. He always pushes.

“Can’t even what?”

“Nothing,” I whisper, turning away so he won’t see the pain on my face.

I can’t do this anymore. Not today. I just can’t. Let him say what he wants. Let him spit accusations.

“May I please go to my room?” I ask, not bothering to look at him. If I were guilty of what they’re accusing me of, I would have broken under the pressure days ago. I would have cracked open and spilled apart, all over the marble floors and dark green runners.

I even know when it would have happened. Somewhere between Cage tripping me as I walked down the stairs, and Silas spilling water all over the floor I was cleaning.

I didn’t even care about the mess. It was the fact that I was so Fates-damned thirsty, and he looked me right in the eyes as he wasted all that water.

We both know it took everything in me not to lick it off the floor.

I don’t know how to play the games these males have had centuries to sharpen like daggers. They don’t just let me keep my head down and exist as Father did. They poke. Prod.

Want me to fight back so they can hurt me.

I can’t outsmart them at their own game. I’m afraid to break the rules. Too exhausted to try.

“You hardly got anything done in here.”

I lean my head back on the wall. “I got quite a bit done. If I’d been told there were boxes I wasn’t allowed to touch, I’d have done more.”

Why am I explaining myself? He isn’t actually being serious.

Dax is intelligent. He knows I was never not to touch certain boxes. These comments are just mental games. His favorite kind of warfare.

It isn’t about stupid boxes. It’s about control.

My arms start to tremble. The pain in my stomach and lungs surges forward, and I press my cheek against the cool wall.

Fates, is it hot in here? I was freezing earlier.

“I don’t feel very well,” I whisper. I keep my eyes shut, too scared to look at his face.

He snorts in disbelief. “You were fine ten minutes ago. You’re not a delicate flower, Idril. Get back to work. The generator will kick on soon.”

My knees give out, and I slide down the wall. My legs fold under me. The pain starts radiating up my chest and into my neck.

“My stomach hurts. And my lungs.”

I feel so helpless. Invisible and alone. My Omega whines, searching frantically for something soft to hide under. My instincts don’t understand that there is nowhere safe.

Nowhere to hide. No Alpha to protect us.

She doesn’t understand why. All she knows is that Alphas are made to protect Omegas. And I don’t have the words to explain why no one ever wants to protect us.