My Name is Average
- Reads 126
- Votes 5
- Parts 1
Ongoing<5 mins
Last published Sun, Sep 15, 2013
Most people don't believe I exist. They think I am a number. An important one, but not an original number. A number that comes from other ones. They think I am a statistic. I am the one out of 2 million people that will die, falling out of my bed, and yet I am one of 8% who survived cardiac arrest outside the hospital. I am apart of the four out of five that do not survive cancer, and yet I am included in the lucky 67% that will never inherit it. I am the majority of the world who have brown eyes, and the few that have the color red. I have something in common with everyone on this earth. I am everything and everyone squared, and added, and multiplyed, before being rooted, divided and subtracted. I am an odd combination. I am a perfect combination of everything to be just the correct mix of who I am. I am what many people believe cannot exist, but that doesn't mean I don't. I am not a number. I am not a statistic. I am not something impossible. I do exist and I am a person. Hello. It's nice to meet you. My name is Average.
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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.
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