Escape

Chapter Two

Olivia stared out of her window. She longed to play as the other kids did. To jump and dance, to feel her lungs burn as her breath shortened, whilst running across empty plains of rich, green grass. These were all foolish wishes, that could never be granted , however Olivia dreamed them anyway, because they were the fuel keeping her small engine running.
She opened the window, choking on the stale air polluting her bedroom, and a gust of fresh wind caught her hair, sending it into havoc, as small locks tangled within them self, performing a little dance on her forehead.
She smiled, taking a moment to admire the beauty of the nature surrounding her.
That's how she saw it: she lived in a beautiful world, full happiness, until she came, the malfunction, and spoiled the cycle, poisoning their orbit of perfection. Staining it.
Her smile soon evaporated when she resurfaced to reality. Olivia knew what they called her: the spawn of the devil; Satan's daughter; poisoned child. Evil wretch. That was her life. Her title.
She stared down at her feet, feeling unworthy to even gaze upon her world. She turned to her bed, collapsing on its cosy surface, feeling her muscles relax and her head clear. She closed her eyes, inhaling the fresh air. She convinced her self it would be ok. That she would wake, purified and loved. Once again, foolish wishes. She didn't care. All she cared about was rest, her one escape from the sore reality that she called life. And so, she lay and rested.

Olivia woke to hear screams erupting from her kitchen. She bolted from her bed, through the corridor, and into her kitchen, where she saw guards of complete black holding back her parents, and searching behind furniture. Searching for a killer. For her.
She ran up to the guards pinning back her parents.
"Hey!" She shouted roughly, still groggy from her sleep. They turned to face her, fear glinting in their eyes and laced into their face.
"I don't want to hurt any of you. Just tell me what's going on." She said, assuming that she had control of the situation.
"No, you tell us what's going on." She heard a voice from behind her, as she felt the barrel of a gun being pushed against the back of her head.