Everyone has a birthmark on their cheek-a number. The lower your number, the more dangerous your power. The higher your number, the less dangerous your power. 50 is the accepted mark between dangerous and not, and everyone with a number higher than 50 has pulled away from everyone under. They're afraid, jealous, and as a result, avoid or mock those under 50.
Ella has a 15 on her cheek; she's one of the most dangerous people in their small town of Palatka, Florida. Only her fellow under 50's are kind to her and don't know her power. But when the rest of the town attacks, their over 50 friends and family start shooting at them and they have to escape or fight. To keep from injuring those they love, they choose to flee.
It's happening all over the world, and no one can explain why. A few people are left unaffected by what seems to be a virus that affects only those with numbers over 50, and while everyone is wary of them suddenly turning, they've experienced enough discrimination to allow the unaffected to blend in.
With Ella's parents on the attack, her friends scared of her power, and danger slowly closing in, besides the fact that her low number has nominated her to lead their group, Ella is faced with how strong she is and how strong she has to be. To win, they need to form a united front to push back while simultaneously figuring out why this is happening.
Killing has never been the answer in this war, especially since they know something is very wrong. A virus? Perhaps. But the answer seems more sinister, and Ella's morals will be tested in a vicious battle that may only end with one side completely decimated. Lives are at stake-and the biggest clue lies in why Ella's parents, while holding a gun to her head, are still terrified of her dying. It's their worst fear, in fact. Putting two and two together is more difficult than Ella first assumes, and the clock is slowly ticking down. Along with it, the number of under 50's still alive.
{COMPLETED} "now that you've had your fun electrocuting me, would you care to hop in the backseat?"
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Freak DNA. That's what I like to call it.
The fault to my genetic code. More often than not, it's a curse.
The static running through my blood gave me a name. A cruel, daunting label of a measly bug. A roach. That's what I am to them, to the government. Roach; the nameless monster with electricity for a sense and lightening as a second nature. It ruined my life, the sparking currents playing tag in my mind, running around and bumping into everything, shaking me loose.
The government, actually. They ruined my life. My curse just gave them a reason.
You see, the normal population with ordinary DNA, they don't know about the people like me. The roaches of the world. We don't get that kind of recognition at the camps. There, we are only one thing in the military's eyes. We are weapons and we will act like it.
Everyone else out there, bathing in the goodness they don't know they've got, they don't know about the roaches their stepping on. As long as their getting closer to the sky, they don't care what they stand on to reach it.
They don't know about the sparkling dreamer that's killed 7 people before her 17th birthday.
They don't about the ghost of a girl peaking around corners for her entire life because even home wasn't safe.
They don't know about the fighter of steel and iron sucking on his bloody lip courtesy of the wars he battles in as nothing but a shadow.
They don't know about the masked villain who would do anything to see the army they lead claim the throne
They don't know about us. But they will, because we will rise. And when we arrive, we will arrive violently.
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Started: 10.06.15
Finished: 3.17.16