Eighteen troubled teenagers wake up one morning to an even more troubling discovery. They are all vampires...
Given the chance to correct their Scrooge like behaviors, they must accept the guidance of a keeper. Assigned to each of the eighteen, Dek...
The burning itch deep in my throat is soothed by the morning breeze. Shifting my thoughts from the catacombs that hold my memories, to the real world. Turing to face the window, stray strands of my hair catch in the breeze fanning around my face.
Hours, I've missed the hours of the night to my thoughts accompanied by a plush chair. Giving each braid a tug, I've regain the hold on my surroundings. Strolling past another gaudy mirror, I turn twards it, catching sight of my reflection, and recoiling at what I'm met with.
Streaks of blood run over the planes of my face. Daring to let my eyes roam, I take note of every torn seam on my once white shirt. Filthy, utterly filthy inside and out.
Smoothing each braid over my shoulders, I steadily rake my fingers over my shirt, smoothing the wrinkles. Preparing to straighten my collar, before I walk the walk of shame, I notice my pins absence.
The eyes in the mirror are giant marble disks that hold every ounce of unrefined fear that I feel.
Everything that happened suddenly makes sense, clicking into place like a seat belt.
Protection. Those pins offered each of us protection. How could I betray myself by missing such an important piece of information? Not only did the keeper herself inform us, but Flynn and Phee also made a point of it.
Flynn...
Where is Flynn? Everyone was grouped up and sent off to redeem themselves. Ugh, even that sounds like the depressing cliche that it is. Looking once more in the mirror, I file away my questions for later, because right now my top priority is a shower.
Further exploring the spacious room I was lent, I'm pleased to find out that it has an ensuite. Tubes of herb scented soaps and pastel jars of lotions line the shelves next to plush white towels.
I begin the mindless tasks of making myself fairly presentable. Starting with adjusting the temperature of the water until steam wafts through the air. Pleased with the outcome, I move onto the task of unwinding my braids. Running my fingers delicately from my scalp to the ends of my hair, I analyze Quinns words of comfort.
Mr. Man of Science himself seems to be making strides, regardless if they are the correct ones. Brushing past the others in the winding lybrth of halls, I couldn't miss the zing of hope ringing through the air. Everyone's hands where white as snow and as polished as porcline. My hands still, still holding the comb, I peer at the pale uneven splotches that decorate them and sigh.
Smoothing the waves from my hair, I decide it sufficient enough, making my way into the shower. I push all thoughts of my progress away as the steam envelopes me, whisking me away.
Willow
Despite the gore and secrets lingering at the edge of every corner, I feel lighter then I have in quite some time. As if I could float away on a gentle wind. I look around the theater room, locking eyes with each of the others. We aren't singing in perfect harmony, yet we are more of team than we'd like to admit.
Everyone has claimed a seat, curling up with their notepads and ballpoint pens. Staring down at my evenly placed bullet points, my ears attune to the sounds throughout the house.
I pick up the slightly out of range conversation between Ace and Dekka. Deciding better of inserting myself into that, I continue on. The next grouping of sounds is louder, clearer.
The ecco of running water vibrates the pipes snaking throughout the house. Harper. Shifting mental gears, it hits me that she could use a change of clothes. Extracting myself from the room, I get a subtle nod from the others as I slip out the exit.
Harper
Where my thoughts are dull, my every movent is sharp, compensating for my short comings.
Reaching blindly through the shower curtain, my fingers clutch one of many plush robes. Sinching the belt at my waist, my fingers tye the ends into a bow from memory.
I've just started sectioning off my hair, preparing it for braids, as a knock raps against the door.
Seriously? Now what?
A tad too forcefully, I zip towards the door, willing for this to be done and over with. The door knob snaps like a twig beneath my fingers as I fling it open. Revealing a slightly thawed ice queen.
"What is it that you need, Willow?"
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