Sous woke up one morning to the sound of wood chopping. She got out the bed, put her slippers on, and walked to the window. She saw Pamoen outside her window chopping wood.
Sous opened her window to yelled at the Omega. "What are you doing?"
"Ge-getting str-stronger!" The Omega yelled back. She picked up the ax and threw it back down.
Chop!
Sous watched the young girl and was a bit impressed at the way she was able to swing the ax; however, she didn't like the fact an Omega was doing such work like that.
The Alpha threw on some clothes and walked outside while the Alphas wrestled in the living room. Kara was already up cooking breakfast.
"Why is Pamoen outside with the ax?"
Kara shrugged her shoulders, putting the eggs and bacon on the plate. She handed a plate to Sous. "Tell the Alphas breakfast is ready and go get Pamoen."
"Why is she not cooking in here with you?"
Kara shrugged her shoulders again. "She didn't want to."
"But why-?"
"SOUS!"
The Alphas stopped wrestling and Pamoen stopped chopping wood and looked at the direction of Kara's voice.
"Just because she's an Omega doesn't mean she needs to cook," Kara said with such a disgusted look on her face.
"I-I...didn't mean it like that, Kara," Sous said to her.
Kara glared at her Alpha. "How about you tell the Alphas to get in here and help me?"
Sous shook her head, not meaning to insinuate that she was being an Omeganist.
She walked over to the Alphas wrestling in the living room. They stopped wrestling and looked at Sous.
Sous walked over to Pamoen who was still outside chopping wood. She watched the young Omega swing the ax with surprising strength. The rhythm of the chopping echoed through the morning air.
Sous approached Pamoen slowly, careful not to startle her. She noticed the determination on Pamoen's face and the sweat glistening on her brow. Sous reached out a hand to gently touch Pamoen's shoulder.
Pamoen flinched away, dropping the axe. She scrambled backwards, eyes wide with panic. Her breathing quickened as she stared at Sous with fear. She wanted to be strong for her yet at the same time feared her.
"Go inside and un, get ready for breakfast," Sous said to her.
Pamoen placed the ax down and ran inside, seeing her siblings setting the table.
Sous watched Pamoen retreat into the house, her footsteps quick and light against the dew-dampened grass. The morning air carried the scent of pine resin from the freshly split logs and the distant promise of rain.
Sous lingered outside, the rhythmic thud of the axe still echoing in her bones. She studied the scattered wood chips, some as large as her palm, others fine as sawdust, each telling a story of Pamoen's uneven strength and determination. The axe lay abandoned, its blade buried shallowly in a stump, the handle still vibrating faintly.
Inside, Sous watched through the kitchen window. Pamoen stood rigidly near the sink, her shoulders tense as she scrubbed her hands raw under icy water.
The steam from Kara's cooking fogged the glass, blurring Pamoen's outline until she seemed like a ghost haunting the edges of their morning routine. Kara moved with sharp efficiency, sliding plates toward the wrestling Alphas without glancing at Pamoen, a silence thicker than the bacon grease smoking in the pan.
Sous picked up her laptop and looked at the application for the Alex Youth Program. The kids were on the floor watching television while Kara laid on the couch with her feet on Sous' lap, making it difficult for Sous to read over the application.
Sous placed the laptop to the side and began to rub her Omega's feet.The room felt thick with unspoken tensions, the television's flickering glow casting long shadows across Pamoen's hunched shoulders where she sat apart on the floor, pretending interest in the cartoons.
Kara shifted slightly, her eyes closed, but Sous could feel the coiled tension in the tendons beneath her thumbs, a silent echo of the morning's confrontation. Outside, the axe remained lodged in the stump, a dark silhouette against the bruised twilight sky promising rain.
Sous focused on the warmth of Kara's skin, the faint scent of lavender soap clinging to her ankles, trying to anchor herself against the guilt that gnawed like a persistent insect. Pamoen flinched at a sudden burst of cartoon laughter, her hands tensing where they gripped her knees.
Pamoen got up to go back to her room feeling uncomfortable with her own family.
"Where are you going?" Sous asked.
"I'm-I'm going to-to my room," she said, nervously.
"We're watching TV as a family," Sous said.
"Sous..." Kara opened her eyes. "Leave her alone."
A flicker of pain crossed Sous' face at the quiet command. Her fingers stilled on Kara's feet. Beyond the couch, Pamoen stood frozen halfway to the hallway, a trapped silhouette against the bright rectangle of her bedroom door.
The cartoon's manic soundtrack felt jarringly loud now, punctuating the heavy quiet. Sous watched Pamoen's shoulders hitch, a tiny, suppressed tremor betraying the fear Sous had accidentally cultivated. The axe handle's phantom vibration seemed to echo in Sous' own palms.
Kara withdrew her feet slowly, sitting upright with deliberate calm. Her gaze didn't chastise Sous; instead, it held a weary understanding that stung deeper than anger.
She smoothed her worn sweatpants, the fabric whispering against itself, a soft counterpoint to the television's artificial cheer. Pamoen remained statue, still in the hallway's mouth, her shadow elongated and fragile on the worn floorboards.
"I wish you wouldn't be so judgmental of her," Kara said, getting up walking to her daughter and patting her on the shoulder. "You wanna do a model car together?"
"YES" Pamoen yelled; she quickly covered her mouth and looked back at Sous. Kara led her on.
When they went into the bedroom, Kara knelt down next to Pamoen. "Don't ever be ashamed of who you are." She said to her daughter. "Never."