The Test

Matilda's days were filled with labor; cleaning, cooking, and scrubbing floors till her fingers turned raw. Yet, she never complained.

She moved and worked tirelessly like a machine through the pack house, quiet and efficient, blending seamlessly among the Omegas. It was better to be invisible. Better to survive.

Madam Tera, the head Omega, noticed.

But she did not praise.

Instead, she doubled Matilda's workload. Every time Matilda finished one task, another followed. The message was clear: Show me your worth.

And Matilda did.

Without question, without hesitation. She carried out every task, her hands working long after others had collapsed into exhaustion.

After the pack's dinner, the Omegas gathered whatever leftovers remained.

Some nights, it was a feast. Other nights, barely a scrap. No one complained, because there was no point, it would only bring harsh punishment to oneself.

Matilda's assigned room was small and cramped, the air heavy with exhaustion and unspoken thoughts.

It housed five girls, though six beds lined the walls, three on the left, three on the right. The mattress was thin, the kind found in hostels, stacked in three to four layers.

She had roommates; Sylvia, Nora, Lynda, and Tina.

Sylvia was distant. Not unkind, just… detached. She moved in silence, never meddling in others' affairs.

She woke up precisely at 4:00 a.m., did her work, and disappeared into solitude.

If anyone assumed she was oblivious, they were wrong, Sylvia missed nothing. She was sharp, intelligent. Always watching.

Nora was the youngest, bright-eyed and full of laughter. She was a year older than Matilda but carried a childlike innocence.

She was the type that hums while working, finding joy in the smallest things. Adorable and lively, she brought light into the otherwise dull existence of an Omega.

Lynda was balanced and practical. Not too social, not too withdrawn.

She knew when to talk and when to listen. Responsible and dependable.

And then there was Tina.

Tina was a sore thumb; loud, opinionated, and never accommodating. If pain had a voice, it would sound like her.

She loved to dig at wounds, pouring salt without remorse.

One faithful evening, Matilda was folding her worn-out blanket when Tina walked in, "Well, well, well," she sneered eyeing Matilda. "The new pet is still alive. I was sure Madam Tera would break you by now."

Matilda ignored her, pressing the fabric down neatly.

"Nothing? No comeback?" Tina smirked, tossing herself onto her bunk. "Must be nice, having no spine."

Lynda shot her a look. "Tina, leave her alone."

Tina rolled her eyes. "Oh, come on. It's just a joke. You all act like I'm some villain."

"You are a villain," Nora muttered, hugging her pillow. "A tiny, annoying one."

Sylvia, who had been silent, finally spoke. "If you're done running your mouth, we'd like some peace."

Tina huffed but said nothing more.

Matilda exhaled quietly. This was her reality now, a room filled with different personalities, but it was much better than wildlife.

She had survived worse.

She would survive this too.

Matilda's wounds had healed, but the trials had only begun.

For the past few days, Madam Tera had tested her limits, not with words, but with relentless tasks.

If she finished cleaning the pack house floors, she was sent to the kitchen to scrub pots. If she completed that, she was ordered to wash linens, carry firewood, or polish silverware until her fingers ached.

There were no shortcuts. No sympathy. And yet, Matilda endured.

She moved through her duties like a machine, efficient, quiet, and unwavering.

But a submissive wolf was an easy target.

It started subtly. A bucket left for her to clean. A tray of dishes conveniently forgotten.

Soon, a handful of Omegas had started dumping their work on her.

She never refused.

"You shouldn't do it," Nora whispered one night, watching Matilda scrub the floor long after everyone else had retired.

Matilda didn't look up. "It's fine."

"No, it's not fine!" Nora's voice was a frustrated hiss. "They're using you! Do you think they'd do the same for you?"

Matilda kept scrubbing.

"You don't have to be a pushover."

Still, Matilda said nothing.

The next day, Madam Tera noticed.

She had sharp eyes, nothing escaped her for long. When she realized a few Omegas were lazing around while Matilda handled more than her share, her rage was swift.

"You think you can hand off your work?" Her voice rang out, firm and cutting, as her sharp gaze settled on them. Her jaw tightened, barely restraining the fury simmering beneath her poised exterior.

The guilty ones stood frozen.

"You'll double your workload for the next three days. No breaks."

Gasps filled the room.

"But..." one of them began, only to be silenced by Madam Tera's hard glare.

"No complaints. You'll work while the others take their shift breaks. Since you seem to enjoy leisure, let's see how you manage twice the tasks."

Matilda remained silent.

She hadn't said a word. She hadn't told anyone.

But it didn't matter.

The moment Madam Tera walked away, she felt their stares, heavy, burning with resentment.

"You snitched on us." One of the girls stated.

It wasn't a question.

"I didn't." Matilda's voice was quiet, calm.

But they didn't believe her.

And now, they wanted revenge.