Chosen At Random

Chapter 1

Glancing around the small hallway, my eyes flit from doorway to doorway. There's something stalking me...something isn’t right. I whirl around, biting my cheek in fright as I hear a creak behind me. Heavy breathing and scratching, dragging noises sound from the nearest doorway and I freeze, helpless in fear.
"Cass..."

I squeak, falling backwards on my ass and staring up into the darkness that shrouds the demon or whatever it is. My eyes widen as it steps into view, revealing a half mutilated body. It's legs are torn off and sewn on backwards, its eyes and mouth are stitched shut in red thread and she, (at least, I think it used to be a she) is moaning and reaching out for me as I scramble backwards and hit my back against the wall to avoid her.
She touches me.

I gasp, sitting bolt upright in my bed and shaking the sleep from my eyes. It’s the nightmare again. I have had the same one over and over again but it never gets less disturbing or frightening. Mama thinks it's merely a side effect of the tests being so near. I think I’m insane, possibly dangerous to society but there’s no convincing mothers once they have their mind set to something.

"Cass, get up its almost time for school."

My mother, Larissa Kenton pokes her head through the door, looking at me with slightly squinty eyes. My mother isn’t the prettiest woman in the world but she’s beautiful to me. It’s just me and my mom though, my father decided to run off and join a band of drunken singers and musicians, parading around the country and the neighboring ones, calling themselves a "band".

He left about a year ago and we still haven’t heard from him and good riddance.

"Cass! Are you listening?"

I look up her quickly, biting my lip in embarrassment. "Umm...I'm listening now?"

She sighs, "Just get dressed. I have breakfast ready."

"Fine..." I mumble.

I throw on an old pair of ripped jeans and t-shirt I stole from my first and last boyfriend and ended up never giving back. Sweet little Kyle, so forgiving and such a pushover, we never got past kissing and maybe a little cuddling.

Shoving my feet into my old, beat up sneakers I leave my shabby, poster filled room and trudge downstairs. There's this loose, squeaky step and I always jump over it because dad used to jump on it purposely to annoy me. I don’t even want to think about him because hey, we're better off without the drunken bastard...

I glance in the mirror in our hallway as I walk to the kitchen and pause. "Damn, I look awful..." I turn my head from side to side and criticize myself internally. My eyes are okay, a bright blue. My hair is this blonde color that makes everyone think I'm stupid and slutty but I guess the rest of me is okay except for my thunder thighs (don’t get me started).

Okay, breakfast smells really good at this point. I race into the kitchen and sit down in the creaky wood chair that seems to be a staple furniture piece among other families like us who live in the not-so-pretty parts of this town. Yeah, Darcaster isn't really the shining jewel of this country. Hollywood is though, full of bright spires and towers and rich stuck-up brats who think they own everything in the world and can do whatever they want.