The Uprising (Book #3 in The Inception Trilogy)

chapter fourteen

(**unedited** but at least it's a long-ish chapter. actually, just assume all my chapters are unedited because I'm so bad at editing lmao. also, there may be a lot of frequent upload because I'm really into writing this book right now. hope you don't mind & enjoy xx)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

EVELYN STANDS BEFORE THE mirror, torn between being disgusted and being in awe. The running water is not a myth in this camp, and she was able to take an actual shower with proper shampoo, conditioning, and body wash. With hot water. She stayed in for so long, the water went ice cold. Even that felt good to her, though. She felt like she hadn't had a decent wash in years.

The euphoria from the shower hadn't lasted long when a silent girl about Evelyn's age came into the room and tossed her a dress. She stares at it now, a deep red accentuated with lace sleeves and a v-cut neckline. The skirt billows out like an old fashioned gown would do, ruffles lining the bottom of it like a costume. She doesn't deny that it's gorgeous.

But she denies that she should be wearing it.

First Micah's camp with his fancy silk nightgowns, and now Wolf's with gowns made for royalty. It feels so wrong to feel the fabric against her skin, soft and light. It feels so wrong to have the servant girl fishtail her long hair over her bare shoulder. It feels so wrong to look so elegant in a crumbled world full of desolate land.

She feels like she's betraying all of the Normals working in the fields below her, all of them who are fighting simply to stay alive.

And she somehow keeps getting put in fancy dresses.

If it wasn't an act to maintain peace, she would yank the dress off and throw it out the window. However, since she is here to ensure nothing bad--aside from Harry's and Wolf's challenge--comes out of this ordeal, she forces herself to smooth the dress down.

She turns away from the mirror, scowling.

The servant leaves as quickly as she came after finishing Evelyn's hair, and as she's walking out the door another person enters. It's Max, wearing a tux that makes him look so out of place she snorts. She's never seen her brother in anything other than a t-shirt and jeans, save for the time he wore a black polo to their grandmother's funeral.

Max chuckles in return, gesturing to her own atrocious attire. "It seems neither of us belong here."

"You look ridiculous."

"Same to you." His eyes go a bit sad, his voice lowering as he adds, "Can you imagine if Mom were here? She'd have her camera out snapping a thousand photos of us."

"She'd be so elated we actually bothered to dress up," Evelyn says with her own sorrow, looking to the floor as she clenches her jaw. "I should have gone to homecoming my junior year just to wear the dress she bought me."

"I should've asked Margo Hawkins to my senior prom to wear that tux she was so eager to see me in."

"Were we crappy kids?"

"Only sometimes."

She sighs, plopping down in a luxurious armchair. Max takes a seat in the one across from her. "There's so many things I would redo."

Max nods in agreement. Then he purses his lips. "How are you doing, you know, with all of this?"

"All of this--" she says, waving a hand up and down her dress "--or all of this?" She swats her hand aimlessly around the room.

"Both, I guess."

"I don't know. I'm only here for Sasha."

"What about that challenge? You didn't seem to happy about it."