Wicked755

I manage to find my way back down into the lobby alone and across the road to the girl’s dorms – Female Dorm is above the door carved into stone. I get odd looks as I enter, as well as small whispers followed by giggles. I have nothing to claim as my own as of now. I walk into the building with nothing but the clothes on my back and the small piece of paper that Marissa had given me. For some reason I feel like that twelve year old girl I was five years ago walking through the streets with the others with the only thing we owned was the Union Uniform we wore. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m not terrified like I

I have no idea how long I’ve been out. I’m stiff so I guess that it must have been for at least a day. Maybe two.  I have to use force to open my eyes. Whatever drug Creed gave me is unmistakably very strong. I’m in a clean white and grey room. The smell of disinfectant lingers in the air as well as new plastic mixed with metal. Infirmary? A soft repetitive beeping echo’s in my ears. My heart beat. Defiantly an Infirmary. I try to sit up. Every inch of me is sore and still half asleep. Both of my arms have a needle penetrating my pale skin, one with blood the other a clear liquid I can’t quite name. On m

It was raining when we escaped. Pouring even. It was in the middle of the night but the yellow glowing light from the flames that stuck to the side of the Institute lit up the street like it was noon. The rain did little to smother the ever growing infernos that was eating away at the only home I’d known. I don’t remember who set the fire, but everyone assumes it was me. Since I had earned the nickname Arson after I set a whole floor of classrooms on fire, people expect me to act like I’m some sort of arson fire genius. That plus a few others that happened because of me. I kept the name. It was really the only name I had b

Steadily, I raise my hands in defeat. No. not defeat. Only surrender. I would never allow myself to be beaten so easily. No matter who’s blood is dripping through my fingers and onto the damp, solid pavement beneath me. I don’t even wipe the tears that mix with the rain and slide down my cheeks. I refuse to show how weak I really am.          I don’t have any more fight left in me. Despite the glare plastered on my face and my teeth gritted, I’m broken inside. Was it really just a few months ago that I was fighting off other Code’s that were more than twice my size and winning? Living o