Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ [Untitled] ❯ Chapter 1

The world has changed so much over the course of just ten years. I still remember when everyone was “equal” and no one was left behind or treated differently from anyone else. I don't remember it too well since I was still only just a girl back then. But I remember it nonetheless. My parents had often recall stories from their pasts when everyone was at peace. I'd listened intently, imagining myself back in those days, what it would have been like if I had matured in that era. Back then, teens like me could do whatever we wanted, not a care in the world. Well, at least that what I've been told. Sure, there was still the issue of punishment for screw ups and mistakes then, but they weren't nearly as severe as they are in this day and age.

My hand flew up to the collar around my neck. Nowadays, if a major mistake was made by someone my age, parents were forced to tie us up, shock us, whatever. Sometimes for days, others for weeks on end. If they refused, they'd be taken to the local prison by the government, while we—the “troublemakers”, they called us—were taken from our homes and tossed into a small cage. No food, no water. It was horrid. I've been there once.

These harsh punishments were enforced immediately when the new government went into control. They call it The Embassy. The man in charge, Byron Maxwell, changed everything immediately once he had been elected. Something tells me the election was rigged though. No one in their right mind would willingly put some insane dictator in charge of our country.

I glanced over at the clock. It was only ten minutes after midnight. I still couldn't sleep. Frustrated, I got up and went to my window. Outside, across the street, the rusty old gray van was still parked there. The man in the driver's seat glared at me then said something to his partner, who in turn pulled a small black phone from his pocket and dialed a number. Then, suddenly, the two men got out of the car, and headed towards our front door. I frowned. Just what was going on?

Downstairs, there was a loud banging as the two thugs hit the door. I heard my father from the next room over wake up and swear. He hurried down the stairs, not before glancing into my room. “Rin, whatever you do, stay in here,” he warned. Something in his tone sounded desperate. “Please. Just stay put.” And then he was gone, down the stairs.

Something was wrong, really wrong. My dad was the calmest, most laidback guy in the world. I've never seen him this worked up before. The last time my father got worked up over anything was the first time they took me away a year ago. I'd made a huge mistake and he had refused to instill punishment. He freaked when they came for me. He and the man who had come to retrieve me had gotten into a major fist fight which ended only when the man from the government hit him with a stun gun so hard that my father had passed out. From there, they had carried him from the house. My mother had been wailing so loudly they had to knock her out and drag her from the house too. When we were all reunited, it was revealed to my father and I that that blow to the head had killed her.

But now, something was definitely wrong. Downstairs my father was shouting, probably at the men, “Get out, you're not welcome here. You're not taking her from me. I won't allow it!” The next thing I heard was a loud SMACK and my father cried out.

“Check upstairs,” one of the men said to the other. “Look in every room. She's here, I saw her. She's the one Lord Maxwell wants. I'm sure of it.”

What was he talking about? That insane dictator wanted me? That made no sense whatsoever. What value could I possibly be to him? I didn't have much time to think as I heard the man's boots clunking on the stairs. Glancing around my room, I remembered the secret door in the wall behind my dresser. I don't have time to move it, I thought. As a second option, I hid in the space between the dresser and my bed, covering myself with a blanket just as he came into the room. I shut my eyes tight and prayed for him not to notice me over and over in my head.

I heard him muttering something about being a lackey, his boots thudding with every step he took around my tiny room. Glass shattered and I couldn't help but flinch when he swept all my bottles and jars of nail polish and perfumes from the dresser and onto the floor. The glass bottles broke with a sickening crash. Something rolled off the dresser and hit me on the head. I whimpered. That was a mistake. The man went silent and slowly crept towards the place where I was hiding under the blanket. I held my breath and closed my eyes as he whipped the blanket off of me. The next thing I knew, he had me restrained, my arms behind my back so tightly, tears formed in my eyes from the pain. I thrashed around in his grip, kicking and crying as he dragged me down the steps. His partner, a tall, muscled man with dark eyes and dark hair cropped close to his head, grinned when he saw me.

“Excellent work, Fifty-Nine,” he said, stroking my cheek. I growled and turned just enough to snap at his finger. Luckily for him, he pulled away just in time. He laughed. “She's a feisty one, this girl.”

My father looked up at me with sad eyes. “Rin…I'm sorry. I tried to protect you as long as I could. It was bound to happen one day. I just hadn't expected it to be so soon.”

“Daddy, what are you saying?” I cried. I honestly had no idea what he was talking about. Protect me? From what? Who? And just what was “bound to happen?” I was so confused with everything.

But he simply shook his head. “Do you remember that song your mother used to sing to you every night?”

I nodded. Of course I remembered it. Since I was a baby until she accidentally murdered last year, my mother used to sing that silly little tune to me every night before bed. I could never get to sleep until she sung it and rocked me to sleep. “But, I don't get what that has to do with—”

“Don't ever forget it,” my father interrupted. I gazed into his eyes and saw a flurry of emotions. Worry, sadness, fear, pain, but there was also hope and determination in hidden deep down in there. “Promise me, Rin.”

“Ah, shut up already!” The muscled man kicked my father, hard. I screamed. “And shut her up too, lackey! Make yourself useful!”

The man restraining me shifted a bit and one of his hands clasped over my mouth, so tight that I couldn't bit him if I had tried. Tears streamed down my face as I saw my father rolling in pain on the floor. I felt so helpless, useless. I couldn't do anything.

“Much better. Take her to the van. We've been here long enough.” He turned and grinned at my father, a mischievous grin. “I'll take care of this old man here.”

“Yes, sir,” said the man known to me only as Fifty-Nine. I thrashed around in his grip as he half dragged me from the house.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Brianna Coles