SURVIVORS ↠ ZACH MITCHELL ✔️ [EDITING]

Chapter 1

     A small slither of light cascaded through the thin gap in the white curtains, the direction of the light traveled towards the face of the young girl who slept soundly in her bed. Her dirty-blonde hair was knotted and sprawled out across her pillow, her lips parted as she breathed, her eyelids sealed closed. It had been a warm night, leaving her blankets shoved down the bottom of her bed and hanging to the floor, she had slept in her clothes that she wore the previous day at work. She had been too tired and worn out to change into more comfortable sleeping wear.

     She was a hard worker despite being thought of as lazy and unreliable because of her young age. She was only sixteen, and yet she managed to do a better job than most of the adults on the island—who, of course, lived lives full of rules and restrictions that seemed illogical most of the time, seeing as most of the time their plans backfired on them. But due to her age, once again, they refused to acknowledge her inputs because; 'What would a child know about this sort of thing?', 'What would you know? You aren't old enough.' And 'You aren't an adult and therefore can't think like one.'—Which was a load of shit.

     On the island she only got on with a few of the workers, she mostly got on with the dinosaurs—ones she knew wouldn't use her as a chew toy. She wasn't one to mingle or do shows for the crowds because she wasn't much of a people person, and if she was then it would probably be the start of the apocalypse. It wasn't like her to go to the staff rooms and eat lunch with the others, or swap numbers to chat or relax with her colleagues after hours because she felt out of place and unwanted around them, so the dinosaurs were the ones she turned to.

     Her room was bare, there was hardly anything inside. Her bedroom door was at the bottom left-hand corner of the room, opposite the door was a dark wooden wardrobe with the doors missing. On the right-hand side of the room underneath the large curtain covered window was a double bed, on the left-hand wall opposite the bed was a large cork board with pushpins and notes stuck to it. Considering the lack of decoration and items in the room it did look like a bomb site. Clothes were thrown across the wooden floor with one or two pair-less shoes.

     A smell of smoke wafted through the house and into the girl's bedroom, she had no reaction aside from groaning in annoyance once she realized there was light in her room shining on her face. She rolled over to the other side ready to fall back to sleep when she heard a chuckle in front of her. She lifted her head and groaned once again.

     "Good morning to you too, Mars-bar," the deep male voice spoke up, making her bury her head into her pillow.

     "No." She let out a groan which was muffled by her face being shoved in the pillow.

     "Mars? Is...That...Is it even comfortable to sleep like that?" The voice questioned unsurely. She lifted her head up and saw that she was laying sideways on her bed with her feet hanging off the side. "Did you not get dressed?" She shoved her head back down and grumbled as a response.

     "No."

     "Oh, right. I forgot, not much of a morning person are we, little one." The man ruffled her hair until she got up.

     "Okay, okay, Owen. I'm up! Stop being so happy." She glared at her brother, her hair now frizzed up, but he only grinned at her. "What did you burn?" She asked once she sat up on her bed.

     "I-" Owen turned his head slightly to the door with his thumb pointing towards it, but she continued.

     "What time is it?" She questioned. She couldn't check a clock as didn't have an alarm clock, she smashed it against the wall last month when it wouldn't turn off. It wasn't her fault, some technology were just faulty.