I Am Number Four: Five's Legacy (SLOW UPDATES)

CHAPTER ONE

DISCLAIMER: PITTACUS LORE OWNS MOST OF THE CHARACTERS AND IDEAS ETC. THAT ARE IN THIS. THIS IS A FAN FICTION. I REPEAT: A FAN FICTION. I ONLY OWN THIS P.O.V. OF FIVE. AND THE CHARACTERS OF THE FIRST COUPLE OF CHAPTERS

_hUGs AND kIsSEd, Just_Write

I can still remember the long journey to Earth from Lorien, even though I was only five at the time of the invasion.  Sometimes, in my dreams, I have flashbacks, memories of Lorien, or our time on the ship.  I remember the faces of my grandparents and older sister, Axelia, and the house we were raised in.  It was on the outskirts of a small city, right next to a wide, crystal-like river, and my bedroom window provided a wonderful view of both.  I can recall the face of every single other surviving Garde, along with some of their numbers, but the Cêpan and our pilot all escape me.

                I was five when the attack on Lorien came.  Axelia, who was fourteen and just coming into her Legacies, was at a party with some friends in the city.  She never made it back home.  I remember being curious about the explosions from the city, but thinking they were just some display gone wrong.  But they didn’t stop and the looks on my grandparents faces convinced me otherwise.  Lily, my Cêpan, showed up at our house not too long after the explosions started.  She was flustered and still half-dressed in her pajamas.  I can still see my grandmother’s face as she said good-bye, tearing streaming down her face.  My grandfather hugged me and I breathed in his scent: berries and fireplace smoke.   By the time we reached the airstrip, the Mogadorian soldiers and animals had already landed on Lorien.  When the elder Loridan gave me my pendant, I was entranced by its soft blue glow.

                The space journey was long and boring.  I had never made friends easily and this was no exception.  Rather, I preferred to watch the other children play and bicker.  We reached Earth a week after my sixth birthday.  I can remember asking Lily why I didn’t get anything.  She was the only one who had even bothered to congratulate me.  Her reply was that as soon as she could, she’d get me a present.  As soon as she could turned out to be my seventh birthday.  But the present made up for it: a day sightseeing in London with a private tour of Buckingham Palace.  I don’t know to this day how she pulled that off.

                Lily is like a mother to me and that’s how we pass ourselves.  Mother-daughter pair, husband and father lost in a plane crash.  An untraceable story, one that draws us sympathy, but also isolates us, keeping away anyone who could discover or betray our secret.  She’s raised me and taught me basic survival skills, manners, how to fight, and, most importantly, how to hone my Legacies.

                When the pictures of one of the Garde- who I later realized was Number One- appeared on a U.S. government website, Lily and I were in France and we immediately boarded a boat traveling through the Burgundy region, on the Seine River.  She said that, while we shouldn’t panic, we should keep moving as much as possible.  When she thought I wasn’t listening, I heard her mutter to herself, “She’ll regret getting her picture taken.”  And regret it she did.  When the first scar was branded onto my ankle, I woke up screaming in agony.  I didn’t think twice about diving into the Seine, only wanting to numb the horrible pain, make it go away.  Later, I found Lily- who went by Fleur at the time- crying in our tiny room and joined her without hesitation, both of us mourning the lost Garde together. One less person to help us fight this battle.  The first sign that the Mogadorians had found us.

                The next scar came three years later, when I was nearly thirteen.  Lily and I were renting a beach house in South Carolina, and I was surfing the Internet while she was out grocery shopping.  One of Lily’s alerts popped up and I clicked it.  Something about a bus explosion in London.  Enough to merit my interest, I investigated.  Not too long later, another alert popped up.  When I saw the blog post, I didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up.  Who could possibly be so stupid?  One person had replied before I got my answer in the form of excruciating pain in my ankle.  I screamed and slipped out of my chair, both hands clutching my bubbling flesh.  Lily found me lying on the kitchen floor, still holding my ankle, staring at the ceiling with silent tears running down my cheeks.  Number Two was gone.  Natalia managed to trace the post to London- scene of the bus explosion.  It might’ve been a coincidence, but in our world, they don’t exist.  The original post and reply were deleted not too long after that.  We packed our bags and drove away that night, for almost seventeen straight hours.  I spent the first three trying to convince Lily to change our course, in desperate hope of finding the Garde that had replied.  But she stoutly refused, never looking at me.  When I asked why, she cryptically said, “It’s not the right time yet.”  I spent another two hours pouting before I fell asleep.

                Those first few months after Two died were frightening.  Lily was constantly on edge, never staying in the same county for more than a week.  We passed through so many states I forget which ones they were.

                When I was fourteen, my telekinesis developed.  Eventually, Lily decided that, to fully assimilate ourselves into human culture, I should go to school.  Before she’d use the internet and stolen textbooks to educate me.  I could speak English, Spanish, and French all fluently and at fifteen had the equivalent education of someone three years my senior.  Two months ago, we were living in Maine, near the coast, and I actually had some friends and a- somewhat- normal life.  I was at a movie theater in town with some of my new friends when white-hot pain shot up my leg.  It felt like someone was sticking needles all down my spine, but I managed to keep quiet.  Of course, though, as the scar appeared, it lit up the entire theater with blue light.  Luckily, the light only lasted a couple seconds, so I told my friends it was just a text from Lily, although they didn’t seem entirely convinced, and, after apologizing to security for the disturbance, I limped outside the theater and hailed a cab.  I had it drop me off a few minutes’ walk from our house, which was on a cliff overlooking the ocean, on the outskirts of a forest.  There were some other people who lived in houses inside the woods.  All of the buildings were once log cabins, but had additions until they were patchwork two-story houses.

                As soon as Lily saw my face, she immediately knew.  I went up to my room and began packing without needing to be told.  Three Garde gone.  Only one more to go and then the Mogadorians would be hunting me.  That is, if they weren’t already.  I shuddered at the thought and pushed it out of my mind.  Two and a half hours later, the most important aspects of our life were boxed and in the back of our truck.   Lily piled all of our identification papers up in our front yard.  I sent out a mass text to all my friends: “Hey guys.  My mom just got a job transfer across the country, so we have to leave ASAP.  I wish I could say bye personally, but we’re on a time crunch.  Hope you all have long, wonderful lives.  Stay epic. –Katie.”  We burned all of our papers and both our phones.

                After Maine, we moved to New Mexico.  Under Lily’s advice, I stayed aloof from the rest of the kids in my school rather than make friends like I had last time.  But, after finding out there was a government base nearby, Lily insisted we move again and we went through the motions once more.  Sometimes I felt like whoever was in control of my life was constantly pressing the repeat button.

                

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So, this thing has about 58 reads right now, most of which are probably me.  But anyways, when you finish this chapter, please leave a comment and tell me what you think.  I will take criticism, but please don't comment just to say, "This sucks.  I hate your writing" or whatever.  If you don't like it, tell me why.   If you do like it, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease vote!  Thanks ;D  Also, Lily's name was originally Natalia, which some people may have noticed, so if you see any mentions of Natalia, that's why.  I think I've edited all of them though...