A Written Life

Intro

Lillian's POV
I live in a city where our lives are to be layed out for us. This is the city I call home. Well, sort of. Our city is beautiful, but our laws are the oppisite. At every home is a copy of the laws.
Laws Of Weatherstone
▪never go outside the walls that surround the city
▪All children must attend schools
▪All children at the age of 13 will be made a match at the end of the school year

I am currently 13 and in a school which is identical to hell. It is run by the devil himself, Spencer Trout. He has made my school life hell since I was about 10. He teases me about coming from a poor family and how I always write stories, or have my nose in a book. Oh, speak of the devil here he is.

"Ooh boys! Look what I found. Little Lillian Quinn writing in a.... IS THAT A DIARY QUINN!?" Spencer said in a mocking tone
God, that boy is such an idiot. Oh and there are tweedle dee and tweedle dum. His little sidekicks; Marcus Luther and James Clovers.

"Well spotted, fish" I said sarcastly
"Shouldn't you be beating up an 11 year old or something?"

Spencer smirked and said in a fake sweet tone "Well what were you writing about then, Quinn? You wouldn't mind if I, took a look."

I felt my face heating up. The book I was writing in, is actually a diary. Damn it, now I am screwed. I tried to put my diary back in my bag, but Spencer grabbed my arm.

"James, Marcus, I think little Quinn here has something to hide. Get the book."

Spencer let go of my arm and grabbed my diary while James held my right arm to the wall and Marcus to my left then Spencer stood infront of me. My fear was arising, not because they were holding me against the wall, it was because of what I wrote in that book Spencer was about to read. My fear fulls with anger and is now bubbling over the top.

"YOU STUPID FISH! GIVE ME MY JOURNAL BACK!" I say while struggling to remove my arms from the other boys grasp.

"Ooooo dirty little Quinn has something to hide... lets see..." he said while opening my diary.
"Oh whats this? Is that a poem?" I blush crimson
"You hated your eye color, called it dull and dirty brown, wished for the deep blue of the ocean, where admirers hearts would drown, and it pained me when I realised, you'd never see it like I do, the way your eyes hint at a story, that I want to read right through, they hold specks of stolen sunlight, that you'd miss with just one glance, and a depth raw of emotion, that can freeze you in a trance, they're a fix of melted chocolate, when I am craving something sweet, but hold a gaze thats so unwavering, that I find it hard to meet, I fall right down the rabbit hole, when I look into your eyes, the brown of earths unfettered beauty, that I yearn to memorize, when I was tired of not belonging, they made me feel like I have been found, and I hope you never say again, that your eyes are simply brown." After a quarter way through it, his voice soften the same as his eyes. He was silent for a minute.