When it came to writing the essays, it wasn’t that I couldn’t do it. More so, the topic they wanted was on classic literature or something history related I hadn’t learned yet. When it came to the morality questions or a book I had read, letting the words flow was simple. I’d always thought it would be fun to one day write a book. I’d spend so much time lost in them I wanted to provide that escape for others. The world could be falling apart but as long as you had a book there was always a way out.
My hand was cramping when I reached the end of the page and placed the final period on the last paragraph when Arthur called time.
“That’s enough,” he announced. “Four hours of work, and you made it through three quarters of the stack, impressive.”
Massaging my hand I looked at him, confused. “You said I needed to finish them all.”
“No one has ever finished them all. As you progress they get harder and harder, you’ve gotten farther than many others. I’d say you would have most certainly passed your GED test. Some of this is college level work,” Arthur pointed out. “While you missed some, it wasn’t enough for me to call a stop. Typically, I stop them when they can’t answer more than three.”
There was a knock at the door before being opened by a guard, allowing an older woman to enter with a covered tray. It was larger than the one for breakfast so I assumed it was for both of us. Without saying a word or even looking at me, she placed it on the table, removed the lid, and left. Rising from my seat, I wandered over to the table and saw a bowl of soup and a basket of bread.
“Take a seat but do not begin eating. We first must go over table manners,” Arthur instructed.
I lowered myself into a chair and looked down at the thick green soup that didn’t smell all that appetizing. The bread, however, looked fresh and fluffy, leaving me something to eat.
“First, we must place the napkin on our laps, fold it in half and keep the fold nearest to your body,” Arthur explained, then demonstrated. “To make things simple, I’ve selected for us to have an easy single course meal. Normally, there would be additional courses such as a salad or another light side before a small main course since it’s lunch. The largest meal of the day will be dinner. We will instruct you on how to navigate four, seven, and twelve course meals like a proper lady.”
Nothing he was saying made any sense.Why would you need so many dishes or courses, whatever he called them? It seemed like such a waste of food, and how in the world would someone eat all that?
“When eating soup you will only use your right hand. Your left will rest in your lap unless you need to use your napkin. Meals are to be enjoyed to the fullest which means slowly, allowing you to experience all the meal has to offer,” Arthur droned on. “When it comes to actually eating your soup, one will use the soup spoon like so.”
I watched as he scooped away from himself and lightly scraped it on the back of the dish to prevent it from dripping on him.
“If you feel the soup is too hot you blow on it, there will be no slurping. It is rude and disrupts everyone’s enjoyment of their meal,” he warned, once more showing me exactly what he meant.
“What if I want to eat my soup with my bread?” I asked, reaching out to grab some.
Faster than I ever would have expected, a ruler snapped against the back of my hand, causing a shooting spark of pain up my arm. “Ouch,” I hissed, pulling my hand back.
“A lady never reaches across the table. If you need something out of reach you request that it be handed to you. Never are you allowed to have your body touch the table at any point. No resting arms, elbows, or allowing your chest to make contact. You will keep your back upright and shoulders relaxed,” Arthur ordered.
To be confronted by this man being so demanding and cruel over a simple mistake was shocking. If I couldn’t clearly tell he was a Beta, I would have guessed he was an Alpha.
“Is this what I’m to expect from here on out? Any mistake, innocent or otherwise, and I’ll be punished?” I questioned. “It seems rather harsh to me.”
Arthur looked down his nose at me, here I’d thought we’d started to find a rhythm but clearly, I’d been mistaken. “Omegas should know their place,” was his answer, then he cleared his throat and continued with the lesson.
What seemed an hour later I was allowed to take my first bite of soup, but only if I did all the steps correctly. Arthur stood beside me and poked and prodded with the ruler every time I messed something up. It was so hard for me to remember not to lean forward. I was so worried I’d spill on my shirt, so did the logical thing and moved closer to the table.
“Miss Cambrie,” Arthur scolded another rap on my elbow.
This time he hit at just the right spot for my hand to spasm, and I dropped the spoon full of green soup in my lap. Thankfully, it was on the napkin but that didn’t spare me from being disciplined.
“Right hand on the table, palm up,” Arthur snapped.
Three hits in quick succession turned my hand bright red and stung like fire. I bit my lip to keep my silence, knowing if I said a word or showed any hint of obstinacy, he would hit me again. While he might not have inflicted the same type of beating my father had all my life, this was worse. He was adding to what my mother had always said about me. I was too stubborn and selfish, if I thought of others before myself I wouldn’t end up getting in trouble. The difference was, this time it wasn’t my fault. Tears burned the back of my eyes but I refused to let them fall while this man was lording over his power. He wouldn’t get the satisfaction of knowing he got to me. When I was alone, then, I could let my tears fall but not now, not ever in front of him.
“Again,” he ordered.
Taking a deep calming breath, I picked up my spoon, kept my back straight, scooped away from me, cleaned off the bottom of the spoon, and kept perfectly still. When the soup made it to my lips it was cold and tasted disgusting. When I finished the spoon full of the lumpy, tasteless, goop I set the spoon down in my dish. Then I grasped my water with a firm yet light grasp and took a sip, hoping I could wash the taste out of my mouth.
“Seems you can be taught,” Arthur commented. “Now you will eat every drop of that soup just as you did that bite. Next time, incorporate the bread,” he instructed, sitting down in the chair across from me. “Don’t dawdle, otherwise we will be here until dinner time, and we have more lessons to learn today.”
It had to be late in the afternoon at this point. If it had taken me four hours to do the test and we’d been eating lunch for another hour or more at a minimum, it had to be close to three or four o’clock. Taking a moment to look out the window and sure enough, the sun was on its downward journey. Somehow, I felt like this was worse than living in the basement, taking a beating. Then I had no concept of time or how it was being stolen from me. Now, all I had to focus on was time following this blasted schedule they had for me.
Soldiering on, I forced all the soup down, even properly tilting the bowl away from me to get the last half spoon. When I was finished, I placed it in the dish and put my right hand back on my lap, waiting for my next instruction. Arthur had been going through my tests, grading them as I completed my meal.
“I’m all done, Arthur,” I whispered, doing everything I could to keep the nausea in my stomach from causing me to lose my lunch.