Melany Fellington is a young girl who lives in poverty in a changed world. She doesn't have what others have the room to have, but family made what she has more than enough. During substandard times of oppression, a fatal interference threatens her...
* The closest photo representation of the Calloway's manor above *
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• • •
(Year 2033) (Six years later)
My release from confinement is on a different day than my sister to prevent conspiracy. Every day that I endured the unforgiving cold of my cell, and tolerated the experience of daily abuse was for nothing. To be given nothing in a world that never gives is something that I had to get used to.
I held on and persevered with faith that I'd see her when we were released. But the day before today, I received the news that I wouldn't see my younger sister, that I wouldn't see Aubrey, and my heartbreak and grief cut so far into my bones that I didn't desire to persevere ever again. The good memories I thought of to hopefully heal my state alternatively caused great suffering.
The perseverance that I used to have, strained to keep me going while I was starved out, beaten, and tortured in my time. I became numb to the fists that made contact with my cheekbone and abdomen. I became numb to the feeling of an empty stomach.
Abuse became foreign on my skin as I got used to it. The bruises of black, purple, and blue faded away, but the damage always stayed internally. The damage in my mind and the damage that I feel emotionally, all stayed with me. When I lost my freedom, I lost my freedom to think, to feel, to love, to be myself. I lost my freedom to live, and I haven't been free in all of the ways that I used to be ever since.
My sisters face became foreign the less that I saw her. Her laugh and voice became foreign. The only thing I have a consistent consciousness of is her birthday. She is thirteen now and she was taken somewhere I cannot reach because they didn't disclose the location.
Ever since the day that I last saw my mother and was taken away from my home, everything I do, and every thought or feeling I have are instinctive for self-preservation...
• • •
On Monday night, August 13th, I was released from confinement. I was immediately assigned as a servant of two Governors with the same last name who were in need of extra homely order, then transported to their manor, but not before they yanked my hair, and blinded me by putting a bag over my head, and handcuffed my hands.
I was guided through the prison and eventually I started to feel the outside breeze hit me, then I heard the sound of an engine stuttering while warming up. I was shoved into the vehicle, and heard the doors close, making the darkness now cover the scarce light that penetrated through the thick material of the bag.
The car started moving, and I felt the constant drag of the tires hitting the rough and rocky pavement of the road. My body was forcefully tugged every which way for time that I do not know of. Soon I started to feel the vehicle drive up a slope for a prolonged time.
