Roommates

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 nor applaud her efforts.

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, lined with three sturdy metal bunk beds on either side, each draped in faded linens and personal belongings. A worn wooden table stands in the center, accompanied by four mismatched chairs. Above, a weary ceiling fan spins reluctantly, its rattling adding to the room's atmosphere. Lighting is neither bright nor overly dim, creating a hazy warmth. A small, cramped wardrobe struggles to contain the girls' clothing and bags, while a single window offers a glimpse of the outside world, framed by peeling paint and aged shutters. A shared space of closeness and quiet struggle.

Currently, it housed five girls, the air heavy with exhaustion and unspoken thoughts.

Her roommates were Sylvia, Nora, Lynda, and Tina.

Sylvia's presence was a quiet space within the bustling room. She moved with a deliberate, precise motion, her footsteps light and silent on the polished floors. A subtle distance surrounded her, a quiet solitude that set her apart from the rest. Her expression was typically neutral; her pale skin unblemished by any strong emotion, her eyes, a cool, slightly wide-set, emerald-green, rarely lingered on anyone for more than a brief, assessing glance.

The faint scent of jasmine and clean linen always seemed to cling to her, evoking the image of a cold winter's day.

She woke precisely at 4:00 a.m., completing her tasks swiftly and efficiently, her movements moderate and silent. She disappears into her solitary room as she completes her work. If anyone assumed she was oblivious to the happenings of the pack, they were surely mistaken.

Sylvia's gaze often seemed to linger on significant events, her quiet observations sharper than any gossip. When she speaks, her voice low and even-toned, her words carefully chosen, her responses brief and rarely revealing anything personal. She was characterized as a keen observer.

Nora was the youngest, her bright, sparkling almond-shaped, amber-colored eyes were full of life, her voice, a cheerful tune, slightly off-key but undeniably sweet, her movements light and bouncy, her whole body radiating energy. A small, almost bubbly smile played on her lips. She was a year older than Matilda but a childlike innocence shone in her expressive face.

She frequently hummed while working, seemingly finding joy in the simplest tasks. She'd often share her meager lunch with her roommates, brightening their day with small acts of kindness and contagious enthusiasm, her mere presence a balm to the weary souls around her. Her laughter, a bright, tinkling sound, frequently filled the drab, cramped servant's quarters, a stark contrast to their otherwise dreary existence in the pack.

Lynda was balanced and practical. Not too social, not too withdrawn. Her calm, competent presence was reassuring, her voice a low, calming murmur above the din.

She didn't offer idle chatter but calmly assessed the situation, she knew when to talk and when to listen. Responsible and dependable.

And then there was Tina.

Tina was a sore thumb; her loud voice cutting through the air like a knife, her words dripped with sarcasm, her thin lips were curled into a sneer that made the already tense atmosphere even more uncomfortable. Strongly opinionated, and never accommodating. If pain had a voice, it would sound like her.

She didn't merely disagree; she savored the opportunity to deliver her scathing critiques.

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.