𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐋𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐳:
Isadora Flores: a girl raised in captivity and brainwashed to believe she has a deadly disease that restricts her from the outside world permanently.
That was until one...
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I look down at the plate filled with scrambled eggs, and the crispy piece of toast with a light amount of butter spread out on it, I had placed beside them earlier this morning.
The air was damp, and the grass was wet with small webs collecting on the top of them. And the wind was crisp, adding a biting edge to my bumpy skin as it blew my hair off my shoulders. I shiver in uncomfortablity.
"No, you fucking rabbits. You can't keep forcing Izzy out of her cabin because you want some, alone time, it's not fair." Abigail argues, crossing her arms defiantly. A look of annoyance and disgust twisting her features.
"Tell them, Ricky!" Abigail reaches over to swat Ricky in the arm. He draws back, sends a annoyed glare her way. "I won't be telling anyone anything. Especially when the conversation is revolving around my sister and Joey associating with one another," He protests. "So fuck off."
"You're going to have to get over the fact, that they are fucking—"
A loud noise of skin slapping against skin clears the table. When I look over at Abigail I see a dark toned hand on her mouth, see a piercing blue glare attached to the hand. And when I look over to Ricky I notice how much they look like one another. How even with different colored eyes they manage to both have as equally sharp glares.
"Shut the fuck up." Tiana grits through clenched teeth, I see her body strain with tension and her eyes blaze with fiery fury. If looks could kill. "And, Mind your fucking business. If Isadora has problem with it, she can address it herself."
Her eyes snapped to mine. Still ablaze and furious.
I almost flinch.
"What?" I croak, fiddling the eggs with my fork nervously.
"Are you bothered with having to leave our cabin every once in a while so me and Joey can.. bond?" She asks, eyes soften. And she's careful with her choice of words as she glances at a grumbling Ricky who looks thoroughly disgusted.
I shrug. "I don't care." I mumble, going back to study the large portion of breakfast I was served.
I didn't like the feeling I have every-time I finished my food. I felt like my body was trying to explode on itself, and I was imploding with this guilty feeling. A feeling I was always taught at a young age: that It was wrong for me to eat so much there, but here I had too?
That it was bad for my body. And there was this thought always hovering in the back of my mind, taunting me with the lies and voices of things the protectors had fed to me since I can consciously remember. I wasn't good with remembering things, but this voice, it was so potent and clear I had to hear it.
It was taunting almost, repeating the words they fed into my brain. You're fed little because it affects your body little. If you're fed more it can affect your body improperly.
