Be Brave

Others

I've been sitting by the door for 7 minutes now. I know because I've been counting. I painted my nails while I was waiting, dark red to match my eyes. Have my eyes always been this color? 2 more minutes pass. I get up to the nail polish to put the dark red back, and hold up others to inspect them. A light green one catches my eye. I take it, turn it in my hand, and then chuck it as hard as I can against the wall. It makes a satisfying noise as it breaks. 4 minutes later I'm on my second to last bottle and the door is being pulled open. I glance at it, not really worried, and throw the pink polish in my hand against the wall. The only one left is the dark red. I open it and use it to write on the mirror.

Be brave.

It looks like blood.

I stand up and face the door, but whoever opened it is long gone. Spooky. I take one more look around the room, grabbing some scissors from the hair station. Without looking back I stroll out of the room.

I should probably be cautious walking around in a place I don't know, but all I can think of is how much I'd like to come across an enemy. How fun it'd be to break them like I broke those things in my room. Wait, what the heck? Why am I thinking like that? Maybe it's been too long since I've seen another person. My social skills are incredibly lacking. It is at this moment that I realize that I've been walking down a corridor this whole time and haven't come across anything yet. I slow down and listen. Nothing. I keep walking for another minute before I start to get confused. How long have I been in here? I break into a sprint, down this long hallway lit only by occasional light bulbs hanging from the ceiling. I'm looking around as I run for a sign of an exit. Maybe if I- crash. I landed on the ground.

When you're told not to run with scissors, listen. I peeled myself off the ground, noticing that my shoe was untied. Great. Just great. Those scissors that I had been holding in my hand were now lodged in my shoulder.

Do I take them out or leave them in? I decided on the former, ripping them out and letting loose a fresh wave of blood. Maybe I shouldn't have done that. Either way, I needed medical attention. I used the scissors to cut the bottom of my shirt and tied it around my arm. I stood up and grimaced when I had to move my arm down to tie my shoe. I tucked the scissors in my jacket pocket and walked down the hallway.

I'm going to look like a major fool when I get out of here.

As if on cue, a door comes up in front of me. Were you sadists waiting for me to hurt myself before letting me out? I give a short, humorless, laugh. Right, as if they can control it. I can make myself look bad all on my own. I approach the door and lean into it with my good arm. It gives way.

Inside is a room filled with four other people. Three are sitting along the wall, and one is leaning against a doorway. Speaking of doors, there are four besides the ones I just came through. Maybe all of them were just like me.

"Took you long enough." the one sitting closest to me says with a smile. He's wearing blue jeans, black sneakers, and a red flannel shirt over a white crew neck. His face is well defined, making him look rugged and handsome. His hair is sandy blonde and disheveled.

"What's it to you?" I glare at him and try to sound angry, but my head is starting to hurt again and my arm is bleeding a lot.

"You're hurt." a small voice says, belonging to a mousey girl in the corner.

"Yeah, a little." I try to give a laugh but it comes out as a sort of groan.

"What'd you do?"

I simply took the bloody scissors out of my pocket and threw them on the ground.

"Wow. Genius. Nice shirt by the way." says the one standing up. He's dressed just like me, a black shirt with no sleeves and black jeans. He's wearing converse and has a black leather cuff around his wrist. He has light brown hair that's a bit shorter than mine and startling blue eyes.

"I'll take these scissors and shove them up your-" I'm cut off. Because I blinked and then the next second there was a piece of paper on the ground. Everyone else seemed just as confused as I was. It wasn't there, and then it was. The blonde guy picked it up and started to read.

"Please introduce yourselves. You are now standing in a room with the only people who will ever truly understand you. They are your new family and they will be all you have." he stopped reading and turned the paper over, but found nothing else.

The guy with the blue eyes stepped forward. "I guess I'll go first. The name I gave myself was Hunter."

Blondie steps forward. "I'm Parker."

"My name is Reagan." the quiet girl says.

I eye the last guy carefully. He's got glasses and black hair that sweeps into his eyes. He's tall and lanky, wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans. He's sitting down and hasn't spoken at all. He had that sort of air about him where he was very intelligent and anything he said mattered, but he didn't say much. He held my gaze and kept his mouth shut.

I signed. "My name is Jamie."

All eyes turned towards the kid in the glasses. He didn't seem too interested in what was going on, and simply said, "Elliot."

It was quiet after that. I took a good look at everyone around me. To my right was Parker. He had a strong jaw and what looked like a permanent 5 o'clock shadow. His eyes were a deep green, like a forest you could get lost in. His hands were strong and he was more tan than me, and he seemed like he was better taken care of. He seemed to fill out his clothes quite nicely.

Farther along the wall was Reagan. She had shoulder length brown hair and sideswept bangs. Her eyes were a gorgeous brown, like rich milk chocolate. She had a cute nose, full pink lips, and long eyelashes. She was beautiful. She seemed sweet and quiet, like the kind of girl that would make a perfect friend, daughter, or significant other. Her skin was fairly dark, like coffee with the right amount of creamer. She was wearing a form fitting white tank top and jean shorts with gold sandals.

On the wall opposite me was Hunter. He was also tan and muscular, but you could tell more with him than with Parker. His shirt showed off his arms and he seemed effortlessly cool. He had a nice smile, but he only used it to smirk. He had very nice cheekbones and collarbones.

On the wall to my left was Elliot. He was still sitting on the floor, with one leg extended and one leg pulled up to his chest. His jeans seemed to fit his waist but were a little baggy around his legs. His shirt was oversized and was just plain green. He had a necklace on but it was hidden. It seems like he was the only one who got the same treatment as me. He was pale and skinny with bruises on his arms and a cut above his eye. The glasses he wore were simple and they showed off his gorgeous eyes. They weren't special, per say, but they were lovely. Bigger than the rest of ours and pitch black. Commanding and powerful. I got shivers down my spine from looking too long. He was tapping his feet slowly on the ground, keeping a steady beat. His Chuck Taylors made an echo in the room.

Suffice it to say that four of the five people in here were breath-takingly gorgeous. I was the fifth one.

"Let me see your shoulder." Reagan said.

I nodded my head and gestured for her to walk towards me. She came and sat down by me, removing my leather jacket and my shirt. I silently thanked myself for grabbing that gray tank top earlier. She took my makeshift bandage and inspected my arm. I noticed that the boys were all staring at me, at my bruises and my scars and my newly inflicted wound. Even Elliot seemed to be a little interested. I turned away when suddenly my headache grew so severe that I clenched my fists and shut my eyes tight. I could hear Reagan in the distance, asking me if I was okay. But I didn't answer. I just slept.