Kidnapped by the commission at a young age, due to being a risk to the timeline. The Handler had attempted to kill her once but failed, so to even things out she kept Echo locked up for 43 years. After many babysitters and commission workers looking...
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The air was bleak, and the ambience was sour. There Echo settled in a dreary cushioned cell, dozing on the tough biting floor. The light was flickering, as her drooping eyes began to open. A soft groan left her chapped lips, brushing the fallen amber hair from her eyes. At first she didn't notice where she was, palms flat on the ground, elbows straitening as she rose to her knees. But then it hit her.
Echo's front sulked as her head twisted around. She was back. Back in her cell. The dull, torturous place were she spent forty-five years. Wavering to her feet, the ginger bumped into each wall, "No!" Was what she tried to get out, but no sound left her, "No, no, no..." She mouthed, clutching and scratching at her throat until blush marks appeared. All the happiness, all the freedom that she had just got used to was snatched away. Choking out a silent sob, tears trickled between the fawn dots on her cheeks, her platinum lashing darkening when wet.
Lungs expanding as she took a deep breath, with a shaky exhale. Echo lined herself with the door. Slowly steps to it, she attempted to faze through. Her nose hit the metal, them the rest of her body. The ginger wacked and punched the door, to no avail, banging her body against it in hope that she will eventually fall though, but nothing.
Soon, her knees gave up on her and she was sent back to the floor. Crawling backwards until she hit the bed, Echo slithered up in it and back to the corner. Knees to her chest, head hidden. The red-head anxiously wavered her eyes around the cell, searching for an escape, or hopefully a saviour. Heart thumping in her chest, ears burning with the silence.
Echo was hopeless. No matter what story or journey she began it was nothing but sadness and despair. Being born, her parents were killed and she was taken from her home. Held captive in the Commission, she lost her voice, was tortured and killed more Agents than she could count. Time travelling back to 2019, stuck in a thirteen-year old body, got shot and failed at prevent the apocalypse. Living in the '60s, got famous, lost her voice again, lost her only family, wanted by the government, and had to stop the apocalypse again. And now this, the grandfather paradox, got her period, her partner has been gone all day, she died, and is back in her living hell. Great.
~~~~~~
Hour of curling up in the hallowing room. There wasn't a peep from her. IT was complete silence, until those taunting heels clicked outside the door. Echo sniffled, peeping up as the door swung open. There was no person, just a shadow. Her shadow, The Handler. It ran away.
Panting to her feet, Echo's bare toes skimmed the ground. The teen took a moment of preparation before she stepped into the hallway, following the shadow. The Commission was different, the walls where dingy and damaged. Echo picked up her speed as the heels descended. Room 57, Echo read the door she saw the Handler's silhouette bolt into. Lightly shoving in open, she faltered inside.
