You may call her an angel of some sort. One watching the pandemonium around her, but an angel she considered herself not. By no means in her life did she illustrate herself as someone close to a heavenly being. Yet, who could charge her for she was unlike anyone known to you. You may be thinking everyone is diverse, poles apart, but not her, not her and her 'brothers and sisters'. They were, in the real sense, unusual. They were humans and animal alike, but not human or animal. They were what they were.
As the 'angel' stood among the pandemonium mentioned before, her eyes were filled with unmasked pain. Pain, which was on no account meant to show through. What she was enlightened to do throughout the few years was not accomplished. How could she, when she in no way believed she could accomplish her goal, her existence - the reason for her creation. Many days she speculated what life would be like if her creation never had come to pass. Would it plummet on another's shoulders, their wings?
Upon the contemplation that transpired dealing with that, she would constantly transport herself to reality. She wouldn't desire anyone to go through the pain and deception that she had to go through, all the betrayal she had to got through. Reality was a sting at times. It would cause her heart, or what lingered of it, to smash to smithereens at an uncontrollable velocity. Oh the irony, she was clearly not 'invincible' as she was created to be. If she was, would she have such a mind-set? Would she have such beliefs? No, she would not, for she would be a zombie, but a living one at that.
Let it be acknowledged that she was never invincible, no one was! No one was perfect as the pandemonium before her had shown. The utopia that was meant to be created, fallen on her shoulders to complete, on her wings, but she did not want any of this to ensue. Rebellion had made it worse, oh, far, far worse. The quantity of undetectable tears had been enough for her to realize that rebellion would lead nowhere, but be lead in a never ending circle of a fate much too cruel.
Dear readers, you must be baffled as to what has happened to our invincible. Our poor dear Maximum Ride has plummeted to the ground, never to get up. Why, you may ask. Why, of course, is always the question. The people she trusted, her family, were dead at her feet. They were not returning to her! Her powers were limited. Countless times she had craved for the influence to heal, to exonerate the pain of her companions.
As the tears fell effortlessly to the blood soaked dirt beneath her floating feet, she vowed that if she was given another chance to undo what was done, she would do it. Even at the cost of not knowing her dear family, because then they would be out of harm's way – out of harm's way from her. She was the reason for their death and life of running. They were made like her to aid her in life, to help her know right from wrong, to kill them, knowing they were not perfect. What better way was there to slaughter the inadequate people of the world without fear, if you had accomplished to do that on your family? There was no better way, as the scientists had thought. Would they be able to slay through anyone if they became emotionless from enacting that unto their family, which of course, their answer was sure, why not, they could.
Maximum Ride was the last person on Earth to be alive at the moment, besides the Director, who was laughing at an uncontrollable rate, because her family, her business was utterly gone from the massacre that had taken place from her self-exploding experiment to derive the world of the imperfect. Max, eyes filled with tears and anguish, watched the director with hate burning through her, but soon the Director fell off the edge of the steps and fell into the blistering inferno beneath the entry to her home. The inferno was there from the flare-up to purge the world of the inadequate. It was solitary idea of the other experiment's tricks. The one created to finish was Max was created for.
Max was created by a select few to stop the massacre, but the ultimate initiation of the experiment was for her to initiate the massacre, as was said by the Director, only she didn't know that there were rebels in her care, trying o do away with her.
As the laughter of the Director ebbed away, Max was informally the dreadfully last being on Earth. As stared once more at the destruction around her and her fallen comrades, she placed herself in-between her fallen angels, her family, her life, and let her soul abscond from her body to breathe your last breath.
Alright this is my first MR story, and it's on an 8th grade writing level, and I can't get it any higher. It's embarrassing to me, because I'm in the 10th grade! Lovely isn't it? Well, it's a one-shot, because I never finish my stories. Let me know what you guys think.
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