Missing Fidelity (under construction)

CHAPTER ONE

The stone was cold. Not a cold compared to a refrigerator cold. The stone was cold, empty. Like the stone had never been loved or cared for. The cold stone pressed up against her neck. No matter which position she curled herself in, the stone was still cold, demanding that she keep in mind that in exactly 48 days, she would be 18. In exactly 48 days, she would be out of time. In regards to it being 3:09 in the morning, Lauren closed her eyes and placed her hand between the stone and her neck.

The chime blared in her ears, searing the daily wake up call into her brain permanently. She had memorized the patterns of the chime, and timed how long it took for it to reach the fourth octave. The fourth octave, she would open her eyes and greet the beautiful morning with a resounding, "hrmmphhhhughh". Lauren would quickly lose herself in her morning routine. It didn't take long for her to mindlessly get prepared for the day.

The chime struck again.

"Lauren, are you ready yet?" her mother yelled up the stairs.

Lauren allowed herself a brief look in the mirror and then realized that she looked all too similar to a gangrenous raccoon. She quickly removed all of her eye makeup (a common morning routine) and chose to "go natural" again. She attempted to brush her hair, but she quickly gave up on that.

The chime struck for the third time.

"Lauren! You have five minutes to get down here or you'll be obdurated, you know the consequences!" her mom persisted.

She knew the consequences too well. The Utopia she lived in was not all perfect that it was said to be. Lauren was insistent on falling out of the Utopia's "perfect society", refusing to conform herself to the unreasonable standards. She'd heard her parents talking once before.

"I just don't understand where we went wrong." her father had told her mother.

"I don't think it's anything we could have changed." her mother replied.

"It's such a disappointment." he said.

Being called a disappointment by your own father was a discouragement. Being called an "it" was far worse.

The fourth chime sounded. And all hell broke loose.

CHAPTER TWO:

Blood had a metallic taste to it. It also had a mix of emotion. Lauren hadn't quite gotten the recipe down, but she knew she didn't like it. She bit the inside of her cheek even harder once she realized that with today's obduration, she wasn't going to be let off easy. It was the 5th time this month that she had missed the chime and hadn't gotten to service punctually. She looked in the mirror to the left of her, and studied herself carefully. Her long, black, mistreated hair (a result of refusing to regularly wash) sort of kinked to the left... and the right... every way possible; her hair twisted and turned into a matted mess underneath. Her narrow lips were spread evenly across her face, but she wasn't vacuous enough to smile through them. Her thin, Asiatic eyes reminded her that if her poor hygiene habits didn't separate her from the rest of the Utopian people, the remarkable coloration of her eyes did. Half crystal blue, and half hazel. They could be compared to a Yin Yang symbol. The makeup residue from that morning was still visible on the corners of her eyes, but it didn't bother Lauren.

When the mirrored door slid open, her eyes immediately darted away from the mirror, only to look into another mirror. Realizing that she was in the Room Of Vainglorious. Or in more simple terms... the room of mirrors. It was where every obduration began.

"Lauren Grace Hazelwood," a man's voice said, "you have been late to daily service five times now."

Lauren nodded her head.