{Prologue}
**I never mention my family to other people. I always change the subject. Not just for my safety, but for others’. I don’t want to give them hope that they might make things better. Might cease to be controlled. I hate being contained. Contained for nothing, just so people could exercise their power on me.
My parents died because they spoke out to the Leader.**
{Chapter One: Alex}
My eyes snap open and I glare angrily at the ceiling. I look around at the plain white walls and single mirror over my rough-wooded dresser. I swing my legs over the side of the bed and my feet hit the cold gray tile. I go over to the dresser and change out of my T-shirt and shorts I wore to bed into tight black-gray jeans and into a white tank top with a torn-at-the sides gray shirt. The colors resemble what you are. I was depressed after my parents died, so
they
put me in the ‘possible rebels’ ward, because of my parents and their actions. All this and everything else makes me more sad, so don’t get the impression they’re helping any. We get a little more freedom, because of the possible rebellions. That’s what they do so we don’t rebell. If you ask me, I think that’s an astoundingly delicate system to rely much on, but they seem to have much a favor in odds. Maybe it’s because their safety doesn’t always rely on odds like the peoples’ here do.
I brush my dark copper-colored hair with cherry-died tips out and put it up in a ponytail. I brush a bit of mascara and silver eyeliner under my eyes and it makes their bright green stand out. Then I hear a knock on my door and I get escorted to breakfast by a guard that works at the Orphanage.
I sit down by my former crush and best friend, Jonathan Evans. He has dark brown hair and deep blue eyes. He smiles when I sit down beside him, and I smile sadly back.
“Today’s the last day, you know,” I say to him.
“Yeah.” He sighs and gnaws on his bacon. I laugh a little because he’s just cute like that. He’s in the ‘child abuse’ ward here, because before his parents died in a car accident, they almost beat him to death every day. He has to wear a red T-shirt, jeans, and converse sneakers. I look down at my bare feet, and remember I’d never put on my black combat boots. I run back to my room before any guards can see me. I grab the shoes from under the bed, and shove them onto my feet, lacing them up as fast as I can, my fingers fumbling over the laces. I run back to the mess hall and slip back onto the bench beside Jonathan.
Across the dark oak table, sits a new girl. She is average height, with a golden ponytail with aquamarine tips. Her ice-blue eyes are piercing, but would be way more striking if they had a little mascara. She is wearing a white tank top and a teal one-shoulder shirt that falls past her shoulders at the sides. Then I glance at the floor, noticing her shoes are white flats, and she is wearing skinny silver jeans.
“Hi,” she says rather pleasantly. I nod.
Jonathan smiles, and says, “This is Alex.” He motions to me.
“Hi Alex,” she says, almost too politely. Who knew she’d turn out so badass.
I nod again. “You haven’t told me
your
name yet,” I say coldly.
“Oh. Well sorry. I’m Bella.” She raises her eyebrows.
“How old are you?” I snap.
She is silent for a moment, sizing me up. “Fourteen.”
Okay. She looks much older than she is. She appears about 18, if that’s possible. I look fourteen. Thats how old I am.
