Test Subjects #Wattys2015

Who Are Their Parents?

-•~Rose's POV~•-

I calculate the last problem my geometry homework and close the giant blue textbook. Finally, I concluded my homework for the day.

I've been wearing the same clothes I stole from the house for the past three days. I don't want to wear the skin-tight white shirt and black pants that the scientists gave us. I don't want anymore memories of them or that place. But, the clothes I stole are big and baggy on me since I had to steal an outfit from the boy in that house who was probably seventeen-years-old. The girl was only around ten, so Isla took some clothes from her. I got an extra-large blue plaid flannel and enormous jeans with a brown leather belt. I kept the shoes I already had. The ones in the house were eithter too big or too small. I have tiny feet.

I stack my pile of books that were strewn across the concrete floor of the warehouse and set them neatly next to my sleeping area. Isla got the broken twin matress, Don got the battered-up bed, Rye got a pile of pillows to sleep on, and Diala took the ripped quilt. Me? I found a red sleeping bag that was torn up by some animal and it no longer has any kind of insulation. So, I sleep in all of my day clothes.

I roll up my sleeping bag and lean it against the pile of books. I grab my shoulder bag I found in a dumpster and head over to this cute café at the end of the street. It has wifi there, so I can use the laptop I found at a garage sale two days ago. It needed to be fixed up a bit, but I figured it out. Living in a lab for many years, you pick up some valuable knowledge about technology.

The street is quiet with a few sedans rolling by swiftly. I pass the lamp next to the post office that's broken and flickers a lot. The café door rings as I open it. It's warm inside with wooden tables and chairs, a lounge area with forest green leather seats and a tree stump for a coffee table, and dim lights to set the whole mood of relaxation. It would be more relaxing for me if I wasn't a walking science experiment.

I don't order anything because I know we need to conserve our money that Rye, unfortunately, stole when we stole our clothes. I sit down at a table for two and start up my laptop. I type in my password and pull up Google. Time to do some research on who we are now. I begin by typing in my own name: Rosella Greywood. I take a drink from my water bottle and click on the first link.

It's an online newspaper article about Rye and me, reading:

Parents Murdered and Children Go Missing?

Adam and Elizabeth Greywood were murdered in their own home at 6:43 p.m. They're two children, Rosella and Ryan Greywood, were missing once the police had arrived. The neighbors of the Greywoods called the authorities because they heard screaming and a gunshot, and they reported that two men in black coats had the two children and put them in their car. The couple couldn't get the lisciense plate number.

I shiver every time I read the word murder. It brings back memories of that day six years ago...

I'm upstairs drawing a picture for my mom and dad's anniversary. I finish the picture and run into Rye's room where he's playing with toy cars.

"Rye, Rye! Look what I drew for Mom and Dad!" I exclaim.

He looks at me and smiles, saying, "Cool!" then he returns smashing his cars together.

I run downstairs shouting, "Mom, Dad!" I dash into the kitchen and show them the picture. They smile and Mom says, "What a lovely family photo,"

"Nice job, kiddo," Dad says, patting my head.

"Well, dinner is almost ready, so why don't you, Rose, and Dad go set the-"