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Mark
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I walked up the basement stairs as quietly as I could. I knew my father had put something in me to make me more stealthy.

Little did he know I'd use it against him.

I opened the door, and walked through the hall. I had been outside before, but only ever read about the city.
I saw the front door, and clutched my bookbag as if it could save me from my life. I was scared. Father said that was a weakness. But at this point, I no longer cared.
I used to be warm, and kind like my mother, but he made me cold. Cold to the point where I despised my own family, and dreamed of sticking needles into him until he could no longer take it.

I smirked at that.

I tried the door, but it was locked.
Dammit.
I snuck into the kitchen. I knew there was a window above the sink.
Locked again.
I was growing angry.
I stalked upstairs to bedrooms, and found the stairs to the attic. I climbed up, and found the hatch leading to the roof.
It wasn't locked.
I smiled devilishly. I opened it and climbed up, careful to not make a sound. Once it was shut, and only then, did I let my self breathe again.
I wore all black, as I almost always did, and had cut slits in my shirt before hand. I was using my father's own pride and joy to take myself away from him and that wretched basement that I called hell.
I brought my wings out from beneath my clothes. They fit through the holes I carved, and I let out a sigh of relief. This was the closest I've ever gotten to leaving this hell hole. As of What I would do, I already knew I was a pretty good shot, my father messed with my eyesight, and I was part hawk. I was no longer human, and wondered if I ever really was. I'm  such a mess of genes I'm a wonder to science, because it's insane I can keep functioning without dying and having major issues. My mother said I was strong. I loved my mother, she hated my father for taking her only son, but had no choice but to go along with it. I would miss her, and my sisters. But I couldn't bring myself to care. I was stripped of all my normal genes, and sometimes I wonder if my human emotions were taken aswell. I finally gathered up my courage, and walked to the edge of the roof. I looked around at the vast city ahead.

Los Angeles.

I live by Los Angeles.

I was only 12, soon to be 13, but I looked and acted like I was 15. Thanks to my messed up genes of course. I looked at the ground as I stood at the edge of the roof, my brownish blonde wings spread out before me. I remembered how my mom wished my wings were red too, since my hair was brown with streaks of blonde and red. I knew she would miss my eyes most. Out of all my sisters, my eyes she would say, were the best.

Like melted honey, she would say.
My oldest sister called them whiskey colored. I smiled at that. I looked up, and back down again. My father had pushed me off roofs before, so I knew how to fly, and I could fly well. He had a gun with him just incase I liked flying a little too much.
No gun this time.
I was going to be free from him if it killed me. I let put a breath and relaxed. My wings were out, and at the ready. I jumped of the roof, and swooped down and up, and hovered above my home, that was my hell.

I didn't smile.

I didn't have to.

My youngest sister was doing that for me as she watched me by the window.

I knew I could trust Poppy, she was closest to me, and the youngest besides me. She gave a faint wave, and zipped her lips. I waved back, and zipped mine. I then flew off, knowing her eyes were following my every move until she could no longer see me with her human eyes. I could still see them though.

Her eyes haunting my mind.
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I woke cold and sweaty. I ran my hand through my hair. I quickly got up, and looked behind me.

No.

My wings weren't there.

I sighed and flopped back on my bed. I had used a trick my dad did when I needed to look normal.
He would cut my back open, and my wings would fit under my skin. Growing normally with me. There was lots of scar tissue, but I never felt much pain from it. I was used to it.
I hadn't had my wings out in years.

And I wanted to keep it like that.

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