"She was bred to be the perfect soldier. She doesn't blink, she doesn't think, and most importantly she doesn't hesitate. She just kills without remorse."
Her entire life, Storm had only be one thing; a mindless soldier for those around her to use f...
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"GIVE IT BACK!" Rey demanded, throwing her metallic plate to the ground in frustration. Her voice was frail yet powerful with the strength of a wild beast. There was a sense of determination in her stare. Even as she gazed into the eyes of a woman much stronger and taller, with a crew to back her up, she refused to back down. She had not made it through the Abnegation invasion just to give up in the face of something so miniscule, so unimportant.
In the factionless crowd, the more friends you made, the more likely you were to survive. Sometimes alliances were made out of sheer luck, but most of the time it was strategic. And no one in their right mind wanted to align with a weak, fourteen-year-old girl from abnegation. Rey had to prove herself, she knew that very well, but no one would give her the chance.
They saw her as a little girl with nothing to offer, they saw her as someone they could take advantage of.
"Why should I?" The older woman sighed. She waved the bag, that belonged to Rey, over her head as her friends laughed.
Rey clenched her jaw. Her patience was wearing thin. She took a step closer, her mind reeling in anger. The last thing she needed was a fight over supplies-again. She had seen enough of that already. "I came here with it, it's mine."
"Then why did you leave it unattended?" The woman pouted.
"Please," Rey gritted her teeth, "It was my mother's bag. Give. It. Back."
There were so many memories attached to the tiny pouch. Gifts were not easy to come by in a faction like Abnegation. It was selfish to want something, so there were no holidays in which one could receive such a prize. Rey's mother, wide-eyed and beautiful like an angel, had used it throughout her school years in Abnegation.
Rey's mother gave it to her on her first day back at school, offering it to her as a symbol of her growth into young adulthood. The object itself was simple, but the gesture meant everything. Her mother had defied the rules of abnegation just to give it to her.
The bag, tattered and falling apart at the seams, was the only thing she was able to save from the invasion.
It was the only thing she had left to remember her family by.
