I Follow The Stars
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War. Just war. That's all you could see for miles and miles. The government is a cruel ruler. They send you to a war they created, not to help our nation, but to eliminate the ones that are a threat. If you don't die on the lines, they kill you. Or worse. You become an experiment, a "Project" as they call it. I know. I was one. And I failed their expectations. I got out. But I'm still not free. So I follow the stars.
All characters are my own. I own everything, except for (most) pictures. Only positive comments please. Thank you.
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H.O.P.E {Completed}
"Wait!" I yelled. "I have knock-knock joke." "Go, quick." "Knock knock." "Who's there?" He asked. "Cows go." "Cows go who?" He asked. "No, cows go moo," I said. "Taaa daaa!" "Okay, now get out of my way," he demanded walking past me. "No, wait-" I was cut off by Dylan throwing me over his shoulder. He scooped me up so easily as if I didn't weigh much. His arm was strong holding my waist securely and his shoulder was comfortable under my stomach. Once upon a time, there was a normal girl going through High School. She had really rich parents and she got everything she wanted. Everyone loved her because of how sweet she was. She was completely healthy as well so she lived happily ever after! Wait! Cut! That is not my life story at all! Let me tell you the real story... Once upon a time, there was an awkward 17-year-old girl going through High School. She had never met her parents and had to live with her idiotic older brother, William Johnson. They were not rich at all. They didn't even have a house to sleep in. Most people in her school hated her because of how sweet and bubbly she was but she was just trying to make them happy. And let's just say she had a very deadly disease as well. Now that is the life story of me; Naomi Johnson. And I don't believe in two things; 1. Happily ever afters 2. Hope Because I can't just hope that my life will be happily ever after because I know it's not.Complete
The experiment.
They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.Complete
"It's ok if you hate me Mitch. I get it." I looked up at him to see him staring at me an unreadable expression on his face. "But you have to understand I did what I had to do to save thousands of lives. I chose a crappy beach with shitty weather on a dumb island instead of a train station, an airport, or a fucking preschool." My voice began to come out shakey from all the anger I had. "You deserve to hate me. Hell, I hate me. But dont think for a second you know the real me." I do not own any american assasin or atomic blonde story lines or characters except for my own
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