DOGS OF MORS

OLIVE’S P.O.V

“What do you mean it’s not an all-girls school?!”

My foster parents practically exploded when they discovered Mors Academy was co-educational rather than single-sex. Six months prior, I was caught sneaking around with my secret boyfriend, Caleb Norman. Since then, they did everything in their power to tear us apart.

They told our school. They told the church. They even went as far as reporting us to Caleb’s parents, calling him a pervert and blaming poor Caleb for seducing me even though our feelings were mutual. They stopped at nothing just to embarrass and separate us.

Determined to shield me away from boys, they spent the entire summer planning my transfer to a new school. Yet, they managed to overlook the single most important detail.

Boys went to Mors.

Principal Dickson, a strict, elderly man with silver hair, tried his best to convince my foster parents that Mors Academy was the right place for me, but they refused to listen.

“Olive cannot be trusted around boys!” Mrs. Sherlock, the woman who was supposedly my mother, spat.

“Well, the tuition has already been paid, and it is non-refundable,” Principal Dickson informed them.

That did not sit well with Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock. They launched into a fierce rant, arguing bitterly and hurling insults at me, humiliating me far worse than they ever had before.

Unable to take it anymore, I stood up abruptly, keeping my head bowed.

I had stopped expecting kindness from them years ago. What still hurt was how easily they could always make me feel like something they had been forced to carry.

Why do they treat me like this?

My foster parents fell silent, their attention snapping toward me.

“I need to use the restroom,” I announced.

Principal Dickson offered a sympathetic smile, and once he permitted me, I escaped the office to look for the bathroom on my own.

The heavy door opened, and I stopped dead in my tracks.

Five girls had another girl pinned against the far sinks. One had a fistful of her hair; another was driving her knee hard into the girl’s stomach. The others took turns with open-handed slaps and sharp kicks to her legs. The victim’s lip was already split; blood trickling out of the opening, dripping onto the white tiles.

The door swung shut behind me; every movement stopped.

Five heads turned in my direction, and death glares shot my way, cold and irritated, like I had walked into a sacred meeting that was forbidden to mere outsiders like myself.

My voice came out thin. Never had I seen a thing like this in my life. Did these girls want to kill her?

“What the hell are you doing? Stop—”

I moved forward without thinking. Hands outstretched, I shoved the nearest girl away from the victim, screaming, “Get away from her! Leave her alone!”

Strangely, the girl I pushed simply stepped aside, and the others offered no resistance. They watched in silence, making no attempt to stop me as I fell to my knees and reached out to the beaten girl.

“It’s alright now. Come with me… c-can you stand?”

Her face was battered beyond recognition, marred by several deep cuts. Her uncontrollable sobbing caused a wave of empathy to wash over me. That quickly turned into a burning desire to drag these girls to hell for what they had done.

Why are they doing this?

The victim didn’t respond. She couldn’t; she was too deep in agony to help herself, even if she wanted to—

Then, her head snapped up.

Bloodshot eyes blazed with fury… At me?

“What the hell are you doing?!” she raged.

Before I could process the words, both of her hands drove forcefully into my chest, knocking every ounce of air out of my lungs.

I stumbled backwards into a stall door, my head colliding against the wood with a thud.

“Don’t ever try it,” the girl rasped, blood smeared across her teeth. “Don’t help me!”

“Are you crazy? I’m not the enemy here. These girls are trying to kill you. I’m trying to help!”

My head swayed, I tried gripping the frames for balance.

“They’re… they’re trying to kill you,” I choked out.

“Let them… It’s what he wants. Top Boy wants this.”

I winced, torn between clutching my throbbing head or my aching chest.

What is a Top Boy? Who is Top Boy? Why on earth would anyone want this?

Weakly, I turned my gaze toward the other five girls, who had remained still, watching the bizarre scene play out in silence. “Leave her alone… please.”

The girls ignored me. Instead, the victim turned her battered face toward one of her attackers—a tall girl with a sharp fringe and dead brown eyes.

Her voice trembled as she spoke to them. “Do it properly. Kick me in the face. Hard. Like she said.”

“No! Don’t!” I screamed, scrambling to my feet with what little strength I had left, my arms desperately reaching for the victim. But I was too late.

The tall girl didn’t hesitate for a single second.

She stepped back half a pace, swung her leg, and kicked the other girl square in the face like she was striking a football. The victim’s head snapped sideways. Blood sprayed across the mirror and the sink. She crumpled to the floor, coughing, one hand weakly covering her nose.

A scream left my lips as I watched, my nerves a mess.

The five girls stepped over her without so much as a glance, wiping off the victim’s blood on their blazers.

They pushed past me toward the door; the last one, with pale blue eyes and thick curly hair, knocked my shoulder hard enough to spin me.

“Move, you fucking Dog!”

The door swung shut.

I stood frozen, heart hammering, staring down at the girl on the tiles. She was still conscious, breathing in short, wet gasps. Her forehead pressed to the cold floor, and she whispered the same words again, quieter this time.

“It’s what Top Boy wants.”