Before I live here, in this place whose name I can't disclose, I was different. My parents treated me differently because, according to them, I had to carry a great responsibility compared to the girls of my age. But I had no idea about what responsibility they were talking. So they taught me to protect me doing classes of fighting and shooting. I had tests almost every day and with that, I lost my childhood. I had a long hair, I only wore black clothes and after my parents died, I started wear colorful scarfs. They died when I was 18 years old, in a mysterious car accident and their bodies disappeared and no one knows where they are. Since then, I had to learn to live on my own. Today, I just have my diary to remember my past. I got him from parents when I was 15 years old, ever since I write important things that marked my life. My name is Ella and I don't remember how I got here, but I'll try to explain it for you, in my diary, some important things.
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The year was 2012, I learned to live and make other things in a different way than when my parentes were still alive. I was wearing my yellow scarf, because it was cold out in the street, and I was walking alone near one of my favorite coffeeshops called Dream Coffee, when my cell phone started to ring. I picked it up and answered, but the phone was mute so I continued to walk, thinking about it and I got into the coffeeshop. I asked for a Hazelnut Coffee and sat in the same place as usual, the corner by the window. I spent a little while looking out the window, thinking about my childhood, remembering my friends, when I realized that the new waiter was looking at me for a long time. He was tall and had a black beard. I felt uncomfortable because I have never seen him before. I decided to pay the bill and I look for waiter but he had disappeared. I got home and realized that there was a piece of paper with two initials of a name and number in the middle of the change. I didn't understand anything, but whatever. One week later and I didn't stop thinking about the paper then I decided to call the number. A man answered me. He said something similar to this: - Hello? - Hello, my name is Ella. I would like to know who is the person who gave me a paper with two initials, D and W, and this number. - Hmmm it's a very strange situation. I'm John. I have no idea about who gave a paper with my number but I don't know anyone with these initials. - Ok, thank you John, sorry for bothering you. Everyday I just stayed thinking about the number so I decided to call. A few days later, John returned the call to me and said he was uncomfortable about the situation. So he decided to search better about the initials at his work place and found a man that worked in the same company whose name have the same initials. The name was Denny Wine, but he died some months ago. He told me that Mr. Wine was like a boss, but everyone in the company knew him for being part of a dangerous faction. He said that the police were investigating the cause of death and during this, his body disappeared. But they found out that he had been tortured. The man had rope marks on his wrists and a symbol like a tattoo on his chest. I ask for John if he could send me a picture of Denny Wine and of his chest too. I couldn't believe in what I saw. I didn't recognized Denny Wine because he had been tortured, but the symbol was exactly the same that I had in my arm: a Phoenix.
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I made my tattoo in 2010, two years before that I found a man with the same tattoo when I was traveling with my mother and she asked for us to get the same Phoenix tattoo which was chosen by the tattoo artist. Until then, I had no idea why this tattoo was special, because for me this tattoo was just a tattoo that I made with my mom. But what I didn't know was that for the tattoo artist, this tattoo was something big. After some researches, I found that the Phoenix mean something rare, unique, and because of this mean, she were chosen for symbolize a group of people who are superior because they have something special. But I didn't understand why I and my mom had been chosen for received this tattoo.
Years passed, I lost my contact with John, and after this, I arrived where I am. The year was 2014, two years later that the stranger things happened, I was back home of cafeteria when a black car stopped of my side and two man caught me. I woke up middle bewildered and realized that I had been drugged for the man. I felt afraid and the first thing that I did was run without looking back for trying to find an exit. I was tired and I couldn't breath very well, my heart was leaving by mouth, when I realized that I was running in circles. I sat down on the floor, I was nervous looking for help, my legs were shaking and my vision was blurred. When I got up my head, I noticed that there was a huge wall with photo frames. I tried to focus the vision on the wall and I saw a familiar faces. I stayed pale. The effect of the drug was returning and I fell on the floor. When I was raising, I saw that was entering a clarity through a glass window that had on a door in the middle of the hallway. Curious, I went there and I looked through the window. I didn't believe in what I was saw there. It was them! I felt my body fall. Was it a hallucination?
