Discussion in 'Fan Fiction' started by Lurai, Jan 13, 2014.

  1. If you are wondering, no I did not steal this from etak, I am etak. And it's slowish at the start, but escalates fast.


    Iris dangled her legs over the edge of the tall grey building and looked out to the north, where the fireworks had just started.
    It used to be a tradition in her small family that on the thirty-first of December every year the three of them would go sit on the roof of block 342 and look to the North, where the wealthy elite of the country put on a firework display to welcome in the new year.
    But Celery would never come up here again, and she didn't know or care where her father was tonight.
    Iris looked down at the hordes of night-time wanderers below. Once or twice she thought she recognised someone; the man with one eye, the woman with ten kids, but then again everyone had that same bedraggled tired look, and she couldn't be sure.
    In fact, Iris had only ever known one person that ever cared about her image, and that was Celery.
    Perhaps it was the fact that she, unlike everyone else in this hellhole, was raised amongst the privileged, who could afford such luxuries like make up and fancy creams.
    There were so many memories of her recently deceased grandmother Celeste, or Celery as she was more fondly known,that would gradually come back to haunt Iris, but right now she could feel nothing but gratitude for the darkness. That way no one could have seen the solitary tear that rolled down her porcelain face and fell eleven stories down to the grey pavements.
    It had been years since Iris Beaufort had cried, and it was a good thing too, for if you looked closely at the tear that fell now you might have noticed the lilac tinge to it that could only have come from her lilac eyes that now reflected the last of the fireworks in the moonless night.
    The eyes that would eventually cause the otherwise average teen enough trouble to last one hundred lifetimes.
  2. Warning: There is profanity that I hope will be censored. If not, calm the ham it's not intentionally bypassing.

    "Miss Beaufort," a short piggish man gestured towards Iris. "And you must be her father. Pleasure to meet you both... and I'm so sorry for your loss."
    Iris Beaufort sat awkwardly on the plush red couch, as far away as possible from the dark haired man on the other side that was her father.
    In front of them was a low coffee table, and opposite there was an identical couch, on which sat the short rotund lawyer the two had come to see. She tried to concentrate on the matter at hand, but the lawyers house was the biggest she'd ever been in, and the sheer quantity of furniture distracted her.

    It must have been quite intimidating for the suited pig, thought Iris, what with her dark glasses and the same naturally fierce look as her father. He hadn't shaved since Celeste's death and reeked of the cheap alcohol he bought illegally.
    The short man bristled his perfectly groomed moustache uncomfortably and, realising his rather unsociable company weren't going to reply to his prepared welcoming speech, began reading the documents in front of him.

    "The last will and testament of Celeste Young"

    Iris looked around the room a bit more while the lawyer rattled on about some dates and details she really couldn't care less about. She couldn't help feeling that familiar pang of jealousy when she was in a warm, fully furnished home. Once glance at the father she despised confirmed that he too felt the same.
    They only began to listen when her and her father's names were mentioned in Celeste's will, a matter Iris had always privately speculated about.

    "I, Celeste Young, hereby bequeath to my granddaughter Iris Beaufort my small leather chest and its contents.
    I, Celeste Young, hereby bequeath to my son-in-law Harry Beaufort all my other possessions."

    There was more dates and terms, and then that was it. Celery had little things of her own, and even less living family. Even her own daughter, Iris' mother, had gone before her.
    But Iris never minded as much as society dictated she should. The only things she knew about her mother she could summarise into three points:

    1. She looked nothing like Iris, unlike her she had blonde hair, a petite frame and most importantly, perfectly normal blue eyes.
    2. The day Iris was born she escaped the maternity hospital she was being kept back in and ran away.
    3. The police found her corpse in the countryside a week later.

    Iris walked home the long way to avoid talking to her father. She couldn't remember exactly when the two of them had stopped talking.
    Maybe it was when Iris started to want to know about her mother. Maybe it was when her father turned to alcohol for a solution to his problems and never came home at night. Maybe it was when Iris stopped going to the poor excuse for a school she used to attend at the young age of nine, and took on multiple jobs to try and keep a roof over the three of them, him, Celery and her.

    Nothing much had happened in the nine years since she left school. Each day passed in the same dreary slog she had grown accustomed to in the grey city of identical concrete blocks that she lived in.
    There was only one bed in the two-roomed flat they lived in. In fact there was very limited furniture, much like every other home in the grey city.
    As Iris shared the bed with Celeste, getting up at five without waking her used to be a bit of a problem.
    Now Iris wished she still had that problem.

    She also wished she could have endured the company of her father for more than ten minutes, as it was getting darker, and the narrow streets weren't getting any shorter.
    The wind blew her long mane of dark hair behind her, and although she tried to keep the sunglasses on, nobody seemed to notice her. It was getting close to Curfew, and it was dangerous to be out late. The dispersing crowds walked faster than usual, fear slightly creeping up on them as the minutes ticked by.

    She cursed quietly and kicked a tin can down the road. She cursed her father for never "being there". She cursed God for taking her grandmother away. She cursed the government for not doing something about the millions of poor suffering while they ruled the country from the comfort of their large country estates.

    She was so busy cursing that she didn't notice the smirking brown-haired boy quietly traipsing behind her.

    "So you saw the lawyer?" he raised an eyebrow, wondering if that's what had gotten his usually quiet girlfriend so angry.
    "You mean the money-snatching pig? Yes I saw him, and Celery left me a box or something. I don't care though. Harry can have it."
    "You should really call him Dad or something Iris."
    "No offence Emeron, but as an orphan you can't really correct me on how to talk to my family, ok?"
    The boy shoved his hands in his pockets and turned around, visibly upset by the issue.
    Iris faltered and ran after him, scared she might just lose another loved one. "Emeron, wait!"
    He turned with a sigh, green eyes glassy in the moonlight. "What Iris?"
    "Remember when we were sixteen, and you asked me if we could run away? Away from my father, away from poverty, away from the mess that is our lives?"
    "I was stupid and blinded by hope Iris. Where could we possibly run? Besides, you have a family, albeit a small one, and responsibilities. Now go home before you start dying of pneumonia and I'm obliged to give up my coat."
    "No, Emeron, wait!" Iris was pleading this time, and she removed her glasses to show the sincerity etched on her face. "My family is dead too. Harry only relies on me for a steady stream of drinking money and that's it. I haven't been at work since Celery died and you know how fast good jobs go here. This time we could actually go. To a class two area, or even find work on an estate. Lots of people have."

    Emeron shrugged indifferently, looking up at the dark grey sky. Sometimes the smog and semi-permanent haze that hung over the city would shift, and a star might shine through, but not tonight.
    "Iris, I've just about found my feet here, you know that. In three months I'll even be able to afford a room, maybe even a flat."

    "And maybe I'll become rich. And maybe I'll marry a doctor and have ten kids and they'll grow up happily in the Grey like I didn't. But a lot happens in three months, and the only thing you can count on happening during them is me leaving, and I guess this is the point where I lose you too then."

    Iris looked up at him, hoping that it really wasn't, and that he would think about it at least. That somewhere, deep down, their nine years together as allies, friends, and later something more, would cause the buried, more rebellious side of the boy she loved to run away with her, something she never thought she'd ask.

    "Iris, what's the real reason behind this?"

    She remained silent. The first alarm rang out through the streets. Curfew was fast approaching and they needed to walk faster.

    "You've been planning this for a while, haven't you?"

    Again he was met by silence. The streets were emptying fast and panic was beginning to spread as the second alarm rang out. They began to run.

    "I'll go." He finally concluded, and Iris smiled in the dark. "And maybe it's just to protect you."
  3. C2.
    Emeron looked at Iris' determined expression and then down to the small rucksack on the ground and panicked. It dawned on him that he had no idea where they were going or how they would get there.
    Emeron could recall the names of several friends he once had that had been evicted from their apartments or thrown out by their families and had headed to richer areas and estates in search of a better life.
    No story ever ended happily, so what gave him the false hope that their one somehow would?
    Emeron noticed that Iris had a similar tattered bag, however there was a distinct boxy shape to it.
    It couldn't have been anything but the small chest Iris had briefly mentioned to him earlier. It clearly meant more to her than she let on but she kept silent, and so did he.
    It was sad really, but most of the time they spent together they spent in mutual silence. Not talking, just knowing what the other was thinking. It was unnerving to the average outsider, but for them it was a way of life.
    He took her hand and they left block 342 for what would be the last time. It took them less than a minute to descend the eleven stories, they had became quite fast at it after eighteen years there.
    They grey city was laid out in such a way that it had a cartwheel resemblance. In the very centre was where the poorest of the country lived, squashed into multi-story grim apartment blocks. It was these depressing buildings that gave the city it's name, along with the ashen haze that hung over it, night and day. People bought food and other necessary items off the street-sellers that had stalls miscellaneously dotted around the narrow streets.
    The spokes of the cartwheel were the straight roads leading out of the centre, and into the smaller, richer, middle-class settlements that were home to the well-to-do such as the lawyer Iris had met yesterday. These small villages and towns were arranged in a ring formation around the grey city, and once you broke free of that ring, you were officially in the countryside.
    You were also officially screwed.
    There was no other villages or towns out there, in fact, the only buildings to be found were on the massive estates that made up the countryside. These massive plots of land and accompanying mansions were home to the oppressing dictators that demanded to be called the government and army officials the state was indebted to.
    They were despised by the millions of poor that were squashed under their rule, but what could a lot of underfed poor do against the constantly recruiting army, whose job it was to quieten them, by any means necessary?
    Emeron kicked a pebble down the narrow road angrily. The answer to that question was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Beside him Iris was concentrating on something, and she stopped him suddenly.
    "Wait Emeron, I think we are on the wrong road."
    "How could we be on the wrong road when there isn't even a right road. I thought you wanted to just head to the countryside and get a job on an estate somewhere. So why does it- Iris?" Emeron stopped to look at her face. She looked guiltily at him before grabbing her glasses from her bag to hide the fact her eyes were threatening to overspill again, and that was something she really didn't
    want him to see.
    "When Mum ran away from the hospital she didn't just run in any random direction. She was heading for the Layton estate, I'm sure of it. Only, she never made it."
    "I'm sorry Iris but do you really want to go there? Follow your Mother's last footsteps? It will be really upsetting and just because she wanted to escape pov-" Iris cut him off.
    "No! There must be some other reason she was going there. Celery always said Mum was dying to have children. She also said she was incredibly smart, but wasted her brains. So why would she run away to an estate deep in the countryside for no apparent reason? I'm going there Emeron, and you can head to a closer one if you want. See if I care."
    He raised an eyebrow at her and grinned. How in God's name did he love such a stubborn girl? She stumbled on determinedly under the heavy weight of the bag. The road she was aiming to reach lay to the left and the grey city was finally behind them like a nightmare they wanted to forget. Emeron offered to carry her bag but she declined.
    "What's in the box Iris?" He asked, curiosity getting the better of him finally.
    "Good question." She responded blandly.
    "You-you mean you haven't opened it?"
    "I can't. The key is nowhere to be found and the lock refuses to be picked. Now all we have to do is cross to the other side of the road and follow it for another hour or two I think."
    Emeron nodded complacently and began crossing the silent road. There was tall grass and weeds surrounding them now, and there were even weeds popping up through the badly-maintained roads. Since the pollution act was introduced almost nobody could afford cars. Not even the middle-class. Yet he still checked, just to be on the safe side.
    The rucksack's weight eventually got too much for Iris, and she stumbled and fell. Emeron ran out onto the road after her.
    Just in time to see the headlights approach.
    Just in time to hear Iris' piercing scream ring out as the car smashed into them both.
    Just in time to see the four darkly-clad figures tow away Iris' unconscious body and fling her into the car like a rag doll.
    Just in time to hear the scream that must have been his own call out for her.

    Powerless to help.

    Authors Note:
    This is book TWO of a trilogy but it should make sense on it's own :/
    I write chunky chapters XD so it takes me a tad longer.
  4. C3.
    The one thing Iris loved about Celeste was her stories. It was always real life stories she told Iris, about love, hardship and loss she had experienced during her eighty nine years on the planet. There was only one story Iris didn't believe anymore. The story of Emily, the ghost girl that had helped Celeste when she was a teenager, and only ever asked for one small favour in return.
    Celeste had always told her the story at night when Iris was younger. In fact, it wasn't until Iris turned seven that she declared she didn't believe in either ghosts or miracles, and Celeste dropped the subject of Emily forever.
    Iris sighed and rolled over. The bed seemed so empty without her now. It even smelt different. Very different.
    Iris' purple eyes fluttered open confusedly and she bit her tongue to stop the scream she feared was coming. This was not home. In fact, she had no idea what it was, only that she had been in a place like this numerous times before. It was a small dark room with no lighting or furniture. In fact, the only thing in the room besides her and a few mouse droppings was the pile of straw and thin blanket she had been lying on.
    She could just make out a door at one end in the dark, and daren't hope it was the kind that could be unlocked with nothing more than a twig or wire and a lot of experience in lock-picking.
    Truth be told, this was the third time this year that Iris had found herself in a prison cell. Yet, she felt somehow this was different. All eleven times Iris had been imprisoned in the grey city were for minor offences such as stealing from the street-sellers. She hated doing it, but when vulnerable people like her grandmother's lives were at stake, you couldn't think, you had to just do these things. The grand majority of the time her partner in crime, Emeron, ended up sharing a cell with her for the night or two that was their sentence. The justice system was poor in the blocks, but Iris wasn't complaining.
    She tried to remember what time it was, or how long she had been out for. All she remembered was stumbling under the weight of-

    The bag.
    Where was the bag.

    Iris walked up to the door and searched for the lock. Discovering there was no visible one, she pushed the door cautiously to test it's strength. She found it to be anything but strong, as it swung wide open the first time her skin met the wood.
    Iris stepped outside it and found herself to be outdoors, in complete darkness. Iris had very good eyesight, and she often wondered if it had anything to do with her unique eye colour, which was apparently due to a rare birth complication. From what she could make out Iris reckoned she was standing in a courtyard of sorts. On three sides were cement walls with wooden doors like the one she had just exited and on the fourth side was some kind of natural barrier. The place seemed eerily quiet and abandoned, although Iris had a feeling there was something here besides her.
    She shivered. Without any cloud coverage she could clearly see the stars, and the night was a jet black she had never seen before, but it also meant she was freezing in her frayed jeans and tattered jacket. There was a wide grass square in the centre of the courtyard, and Iris could just make out something growing in between the cracks of the back "wall".
    So she must be in the countryside then.
    Iris began looking for a way out, an escape route. She sprinted across the square, looking for a door that led to a way out, not just another cell, and found nothing. Every single black wooden door swung open freely to reveal a small concrete cubicle with a pile of hay in the corner.
    Iris looked at the never-ending row of doors left for her to check and gave up with a shiver. She was too tired and cold to do now what could easily be done in the morning. She would have settled in any of the identical cells but for the fact she knew hers had a blanket, which she could really do with right now. She trudged glumly back to the other side, walking by the cells to listen for any sound of other inhabitants.
    She was so used to hearing just the sound of her own breathing that it came as a huge shock when she heard them, a girl and boy whispering behind one of the numerous black doors.
    "But that's good isn't it?" The boy asked uncertainly. "You're always saying that's the only reason you're still here, to unite us."
    "It doesn't matter Reid! We missed our chance! It's been what, four years since David turned up? Who knows when another person's going to land themselves in here? She won't remember how she got in either."
    "Oh so it's a girl? How do you know?"
    "I checked while she was unconscious."
    "Well why didn't you just, you know, go back? You could have gone back to when she arrived, and saw how she got in."
    "I've been here EIGHTEEN ******* YEARS Reid! I tried that with everyone. You, David, Lynn, Amanda... everyone!"
    Iris dragged her ear away from the door and evaluated what she knew. The girl had been here eighteen years, and had yet to find an exit. There was plenty of other information in there she had yet to decipher but nothing that terrified her more than the notion of eternal captivity. Iris turned around.

    And screamed.

    Her scream echoed loudly and pierced the nighttime sky, waking everything within a two-mile radius. A white figure stood directly in front of Iris, with long hair and prominent features. She was completely white and translucent except for her eyes. Her eyes were a dark purple and glowed while they examined Iris. It could almost have been a reflection of her. In a flash, the apparition disappeared.
    Almost immediately numerous doors opened, revealing the irritated people that had been awoken by Iris' scream. Someone flicked a switch and the courtyard was illuminated, lighting up the faces of the people. Iris gasped. In the grey city Iris had been forced to wear dark glasses day in, day out. People whispered, everyone thought of her as a freak. But as she looked around her at the colourful strange eyes of the people around her she realised something.

    She wasn't the only one.

    Authors Note: it's short and took me a while to update it's just I have exams this week and next 
  5. OMG no one has that much free time
  6. Please post in feedback only
  7. Not sure how I feel about this??????
  8. Unlike that guy, I actually read it. It was worth the read. 
  9. I like it :) been a while since I checked ff.... pls write more XD
  10. It's pretty good, keep writing
  11. This is very good. Keep on writing
  12. Ugh so it's been ages since I posted.
    And I hate what I am now posting. Ugh
    Thank you to all who commented. This is a continuation, not a new chapter

    Someone gave her a push forward so everyone could have a good gawk at the newcomer. Iris noticed a man in his late fifties with greying hair and azure blue eyes unlike any she had seen before. There was an old woman that reminded Iris of Celery, with her crinkled face and innocent expression. A surly woman with the most bizarre pink hair and tattoos imaginable had the yellow eyes of a cat, and lastly there was a pair of tanned, dark-haired sisters. The older girl seemed to be about Iris' age, yet had perfectly average brown eyes unlike the striking amber ones her younger sister possessed. The younger girl coked her head to the side, examining Iris. She moved towards Iris but was pulled firmly back by her protective sister.
    "Is she, Is she-" the younger girl struggled against her sister's firm grip.
    "Dangerous, Lurai. She could be dangerous. Stay back for now."
    "But she doesn't look-"
    "Neither does Reid though and think about that before you make assumptions."
    Iris could have laughed if the circumstances were different. She was far from dangerous, but who exactly was Reid?
    "Who's Reid?" Iris called out, hoping one of the currently mute people would cure her ignorance. But no one even glanced at Iris. The voices behind the door had mentioned that there hadn't been a new captive for four years, but everyone seemed nonchalant and disinterested in Iris, which she was only too happy about.
    Now Iris saw what everyone was staring at. The young girl with amber eyes had broken free of her sister's firm hold and was glaring angrily at her. The low-wattage outdoor lighting flickered a few times and then shut off completely, leaving everybody in darkness. Iris was dragged backwards by someone into a cell, but she knew better than to struggle. Everything she had heard so far told her not to trust these people, but to fight them could be worse. She would just play along complacently until she escaped and found Emeron.
    Iris heard the wooden door slam shut and the whirring of a generator as lights flickered on to reveal a boy and girl in their late teens. They both could have been models. The girl stared at Iris, her mouth wide open and eyebrows raised in surprise. The chestnut haired boy looked confused and looked across at the girl to see her reaction. The girl had long blonde hair and had the same tall strong build as Iris, and purple eyes to boot, while the boy had a bright burgundy pair. This would have shocked anyone, but Iris had gotten over her shock long ago.
    She wondered if the colour meant anything. Celery said the doctor had described Iris' birth defection as an "extremely rare case", but he never mentioned about it being anisolated one. All the people here had the same condition, and were clearly being imprisoned for it, but why?
    The blonde turned to the boy, glaring accusingly at him.
    "Did you know? About her?" She pointed at Iris.
    "How could I possibly have known? You're the one that saw her first. And what's the problem? You have to stop believing every single thing Peony says Clove, she's an old woman, she forgets things, circumstances change."
    "Reid if this is a mistake on your head be it. Let me know how the ignorant fares will you?"
    Before he retorted with some smart comment in Iris' defence, Iris got up and headed towards the door. She wasn't taking this anymore. She wasn't their captive, or their guinea pig. She was going, and she would escape. They couldn't-
    The boy stopped her.
    Iris did as she was told and sat down on the straw pile. This one was somewhat more padded and the blanket thicker. The boy paced up and down the tiny room, concentrating on something Iris couldn't quite put her finger on. He had a lot of muscles Iris noticed, but she reasoned that Emeron still had him beat.
    "Who are you?"
    Iris surprised herself by asking this. She had resolved herself to not caring either way. But she did, and as much as she wanted to leave immediately, it was clear she wouldn't be going anywhere soon, and there was no denying her curiosity.
    "My name is Reid. My Dad is high up with the army and that's the only reason I wasn't locked up earlier. I ran away from our estate when I was fourteen. They saw my eyes, and captured me. Because of well, my dad, I was offered freedom, but I stayed. Now, your turn."
    Iris could do nothing but gape at Reid. Exactly how stupid was he? Why would anyone in their right mind run away from their family and estate to be imprisoned in a dilapidated jail? And who would then be crazy enough to refuse freedom?
    "Why did you stay?"
    "I... I didn't believe in my parent's ideals. They, they were forcing me to think things they thought, do wrong because they believed it right. And I think, once you realise why you're here, that I am of more use here then I ever will be on an estate."
    Iris raised an eyebrow.
    "So why am I here then?"
    Reid laughed as he explained the governments idiotic assumption to her. "They're afraid that history will repeat itself. That you and I, and the others, will rebel. That we will somehow use our talents to unseat the government and crap like that. So they lock us up in a stable yard of all places, and now we are as useless as them."
    "Talents? Talents? Reid the only thing I'm good at is jar opening! What could I possibly do, dazzle them with my purple eyes? Is that-"
    Reid smiled.
    And burst on fire.
    He laughed silently at Iris as her mouth gaped open, lost for words for once. He extinguished the flames and completely unharmed, pointed to his eyes.
    "Talents," he grinned mischievously. "What's yours?"
  13. C4
    Clover sat on the hard concrete floor with her head in her hands. She hated new people. Not so long ago it had just been her and Peony, and Clover couldn't help thinking it had been better then.
    Clover was the first ever captive, imprisoned just a few weeks after she was born. She never knew what happened to her parents, and though Peony wasn't a blood relative of hers, she was the only family she had. When she discovered that she was... different, everything changed.
    She had been angry that day, really angry. She had already spent ten years locked up in the old stable yard, by people she had only ever caught glimpses of before. She was sick and tired of the same bland old food for breakfast lunch and dinner, that they received through a tiny door in the back wall, which was actually a mountain the compound had originally been built against. She had spent every day searching for an exit of some kind, for the walls were far too high to scale, and there were no windows in the cells. So how did she get in originally?
    She had taken her anger out on Peony, flinging straw from the piles in every direction, sick and tired of being treated like an animal, just because her eyes were different. Everyone normal had blue, brown or green eyes according to Peony. Even she had perfectly normal blue ones. But no, Clover just had to be cursed with purple ones.
    That night she had said some horrible things to her only friend, family and confidante. She had blamed her for letting them both be captured when she was younger. She asked Peony why she was still here, she wasn't special in any way and Clover didn't need looking after anymore, she was ten after all. She made Peony cry, and she didn't care one bit.
    Clover had then ran to her cell and cried herself, with the result that she never did see how Amanda got in. Clover had never wanted a time machine so much. She wished she could go back somehow and take back the things she had said to Peony. She wished she could have stayed awake that night and found out the way Amanda had got in.
    And suddenly, just like that, she could.
    Time dissipated and she was back to the point where she had stormed off after the fight. She could see herself moving towards that door. She could hear her thoughts from that moment being replayed in her head and she knew what would happen next. She felt that she was merely an observer in the proceedings, disconnected from her body and severed from her mind. She would walk through that black door, sit down on the hay pile, and break down in sobs. But somewhere in that timeframe Clover had to stop, and turn back.
    It took all her willpower to force her feet to stop. Something felt like it had jarred and reloaded in her brain. She was in control of her body once again, and she turned around. After apologising to Peony she had opened the door of every single cell. That way when Amanda arrived Clover would be able to see how.
    Only she didn't.
    All she saw was a flash as Amanda's bruised unconscious body fell awkwardly onto the hay in a cell on the opposite side of the compound. She thought she caught a glance of someone else, a flash of blue, a glimpse of blonde, but it was dark, and Clover had always debated over what she had really seen that night.
    Clover once again detached herself from her body and hurtled through time to the morning after the row. Amanda was the first person Clover had ever met besides Peony and she wasn't sure how to act around her. Clover wondered if all the people in the outside world chose such bizarre hair colours such as the bright pink that Amanda had. Did you compliment someone on their extensive tattoo collection? Clover needn't have worried though, because Amanda never left her cell except to use the shack they had in place of a bathroom. She said nothing when her and Peony shoved a bowl of bland tasteless mush through the door daily and hoped that she like them would get used to the food eventually.
    Clover wanted to practice and test her talent more than anything, but she was scared. When she told Peony about it, she had pointed out the all-too-real dangers to Clover. What if she got stuck in the past? What if she changed something small by accident and everything went horribly wrong? With the arrival of Amanda Clover had begun to develop a theory. After almost a month of the silent treatment from the girl, Clover had finally plucked up the courage to ask her the question that had been burning on her lips.
    "Amanda," she had whispered while pushing the dry bread and water that was their dinner through the door. "Amanda, can you do things? Are you, are you... Different? Because I am, and I think our eyes might have-"
    "No." She had replied bluntly, and that was that.
    It was nearly a year later that the eleven year old Reid had mysteriously appeared unconscious in a cell. Unlike Amanda he wasted no time in telling her exactly how he had got there. When he found out he could, as his parents called it, "play with fire" his father, a wealthy and respected army officer had wasted no time in recruiting Reid to the army. His father's idea was that regardless of his age, with the power of fire on their side, there was no fight they couldn't win. But no matter how much money or power they tried to bribe the boy with, he wouldn't agree, and they had to be careful with someone as dangerous as him.
    "So I ran away," he concluded his story with a sly smile at Clover and Amanda, who had temporarily come out of her shell to listen to him. "I ran to the middle class suburbs, where I could get some kind of job with the good education I had. Only they stopped me at the border. Four men tried to persuade me to get in their car.When I tried to flee one of them knocked me in the head and, um, I woke up here."
    Reid and Clover became really close over the following years. Reid taught her all the things Clover had never known about the outside world. He treated Peony like family, tolerated Amanda's constant silence and helped Clover look on the bright side when everything seemed down. It wasn't until Clover got older that she began to think she loved him. Without ever seeing love herself, Clover had no idea if he felt the same, but she had begun to think he felt the same.
    And then Lynn arrived.
  14. Btw in chapter three it's

    "Iris could have laughed if the circu mstances were different"

    Idk why they consider it profanity.
  15. Clover had never had to share before. Amanda was at least ten years older than them, but she never let her age slip during the brief conversations that they had. Clover was reasonably pretty, but it seemed Lynn was prettier. Once a year a scissors - that were more blunt than they were sharp - appeared with their usual lunch of bread and water and an orange, a symbol of wealth and their only indicator that another year had passed. With only one chance to cut her blonde hair a year, it was ragged and knotty. For another thing, Clover had never seen a mirror in her life, or felt the suffocating pressures of society to look good. But Lynn was tanned, tall and thin, one of those people that purposely didn't eat a lot in order to have an impossibly small waist. She'd get over that quickly smirked Clover; you couldn't afford to refuse food here. Her dark brown hair and eyes had Emeron smitten, and with that Clover withdrew into herself, treating everyone with the same indifference and silence that Amanda did. When David, the last captive and fifty-two year old father of three was found bruised and bloodied in a cell, a year after Lynn and her nine year old sister Lurai had arrived, Clover almost ignored him. Reid and Lynn the dream team could sort him out. They could sort Iris out too. No doubt she had no idea what her talent was, or even that she had one. She sickened Clover the second she saw her. All her notions of escaping would soon be squashed flat and reality would sink in. After the denial period would come the heavy depression and madness, and after that a sense of acceptance, the stage they had all finally reached. They had all finally accepted the fact that there was no escaping the compound, and after four long years had concluded that the way through which they had entered before must have been sealed off. This belief had held until the day Iris had appeared, unconscious yet unharmed. Clover had used her talent for the first time in four years. Every time there was a new prisoner Clover would go back in time, and try to pinpoint how and when the person had entered. But it was no use. With everyone else, and yet again with Iris, Clover had never seen anyone enter. One moment there was nothing but straw in the cell, and next there was a new unconscious captive they would take pains to teach.
    One thing stood out to Clover as she bunched up the straw under the thin blanket. She would be taking no pains with Iris, or anybody else for that matter. She tried to find Amanda's talent, and that had been a total failure. If she knew what she could do she wouldn't tell her, and if she didn't she never bothered trying to find out. Clover had managed to prise Lurai away from Lynn for a few hours a day, hoping her amber eyes could be their ticket out of the compound. Once it was established that Lurai could not, in fact, walk through walls, teleport, fly or jump impossible heights Clover had tried testing her on other, random things she might have been able to do. But she could do nothing, it seemed, and the hot-tempered Clover got frustrated with Lurai, who in turn got frustrated with herself. Lurai had been outside trying to see the future, bring a dead weed back to life and read Clovers mind for the past two hours, and now it was dark. Lynn helpfully suggested they try drawing blood from a stone while they were at it. Clover suggested that Lynn go and be useless somewhere else. She was about to retort with something about Clover's career as a teacher when the lights shut off suddenly. Lynn fumbled along the grey peeling walls for the light switch, but no matter how many times she flicked it, the compound remained in darkness. In the darkness Clover found herself smiling. It was a few minutes later that little glowing orbs of light sailed from Lurai's delicate hands to the floodlights above. A completely useless gift, but there was no denying it was a beautiful one.
    Now though, Clover couldn't help wishing Iris did have something useful to offer. It was true, they had all reached the acceptance stage, nobody more than her, but there was no extinguishing the tiny flame of hope she still harboured in her heart. Sometime, someday they would escape. She could not, would not die here.

    A/N: it's been ages since I last posted and I think that it is only luanie and possibly Bremen who still give a damn about this story and thank you both so much :)
    If you want to be updated please wall me or I'll just presume I'm annoying you and stop. And please do let me know if you are still reading this in feedback.
  16. Bump. Anyone interested in me continuing this?