Izzy's POV
I feel the cold floor pressing up against my cheek. The rest of my body feels warm but an uncomfortable stickiness has taken over my stomach area. Metal digs into my side.
I'm laying in what seems to be a metal cage, moving steadily upwards. The cage passes by rows of fluorescent lights every five seconds, momentarily illuminating the black emptiness of the cage.
There are wooden crates strewn all over and a dark figure across from me. I try to push myself up but, the moment my body lifts off the floor, pain shoots through my abdomen.
I cry out in pain and drop back down on the floor, causing another surge of pain to course through me. My left hand clamps over my stomach and I pull it back, now covered in blood.
Deciding against having my guts leak out onto the floor, I put my left hand back over my abdomen in an attempt to lessen the pain or stop the bleeding.
With my right hand, I start pulling myself across the floor to the dark figure strewn on the other side of the cage.
When I reach the figure I see it's a boy with short, dark hair much like the hair spilling down my own shoulders. The boy's wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers along with a black leather jacket.
He's covered in tattoos, some of them matching the ones peppering my body. I get a strong sense of familiarity from him.
I search my mind for a memory to match to his image before realizing I don't have any. I frantically search my mind for something, anything. I come up with nothing but an empty void, darker than the metal cage.
The cage skids to a stop, abruptly, and nothing happens for a few minutes. I start to wonder if I'm just going to spend the rest of my life in here, bleeding to death.
The sirens that start blaring from somewhere above the cage suggest otherwise. I hear a murmur of voices coming along with the sirens and fear runs through me.
I quickly push the boy's unconscious form to the nearest wall and turn my body so that I can reach one of the crates with my feet. I swerve, kicking two boxes to hide the boy from view and ignoring the sharp pain in my stomach.
As the sirens grow louder, I push myself onto my knees, supporting myself on a crate. I open one of the nearby crates and search for anything I can use as a weapon.
I feel something sharp and run my hand across it until I feel a leather hilt. My fingers curl around the hilt and pull a long, silver dagger out of the crate. I throw the top back over the crate carelessly and push myself away from the crate I'm laying on.
Blood continues to flow freely through my fingers and I wail as another dagger of pain stabs my stomach. I manage to push myself against the wall farthest from the one I left the boy next to.
I scoot over to the corner and squeeze into it as far as possible. I fold my knees to my chest, still holding my stomach with my left hand. I raise my right hand, dagger positioned horizontally, ready to fight.
I wait, hearing the blood pump in my ears and the rapid and unsteady rate of my heart hammering against my chest combined with the sharpness of my breathing. A few moments later, the top of the cage parts and sunlight seeps into the cage.
The light doesn't manage to reach me in my corner and fails to sting my eyes while they get used to the brightness. The darkness manages to conceal me as well once shadows start peering into the cage from above.
Low, male voices fill the air, using weird slang I've never heard before. As if I would know with no memories whatsoever. Not even a name.
"What the shuck?"
"Where's the Greenbean?"
"Did we only get sent supplies?"
"There has to be a Greenie."
"Everyone slim it! Newt, go find the Greenie!"
What do all those words mean? Greenie? Shuck?
My thoughts are interrupted as the cage shakes and rattles. A boy with messy, blonde hair and blue eyes has dropped down into the cage. He looks about sixteen, seventeen. Probably about my age even though I have no idea how old I am.
He whips his head around and around, looking for something. The Greenie. It takes me a second to realize I must be the Greenie. The boy's looking for me.
I remain quiet but eventually, the boy's blue eyes land on me. He stares at me in shock, bewilderment and confusion all at once.
"Newt, what do you see?" asks someone.
"It's a girl," answers the blonde boy whose name is probably Newt. I notice he has a heavy, British accent.
"What?"
"Is she cute?"
"Dibs!"
The cage shakes again as two more boys drop down into the cage. One of them has dark skin and a near clean-shaven head of black hair and the other has hazel colored hair, green eyes and tan skin.
Both of them look at me curiously but raise their arms cautiously as I hold up my dagger.
"Hey, it's okay. Put the dagger down," says the dark-skinned boy.
He takes a step towards me but I thrust the dagger forward slightly in warning, causing him to stop.
"We won't hurt you," insists the brown-haired boy.
I don't move, still holding up the dagger. The blonde boy steps forward then and my shoulders tense. The boy must notice because he stops his advance but doesn't back away.
He kneels down so his eyes can meet mine. He continues to hold his hands up, cautiously and gives me a sympathetic look.
"I know you're scared and confused but we mean you no harm. Please put the dagger down and we'll explain everything," tries the blonde boy.
"Stay away from me," I snap as he reaches to touch my arm. The boy draws his arm back sharply and lets out a startled breath.
"It's okay. Just come on out," he coos, voice steady. I gulp nervously.
"I can't," I mutter, my voice cracking.
"Why not?" asks the brown-haired boy, impatiently.
I shoot him a quick glare before looking back over at the blonde boy. I lift my left hand off my stomach and gesture to my blood stained shirt, clinging to my stomach.
The three boys widen their eyes at the sight. "Look, it's obvious you need help and we're the only ones who can help you. So you're just going to have to trust us. Okay?"
The blonde boy reaches out and his hand closes around the blade of the dagger in my hand. He gently pulls the dagger out of my hand and onto the floor.
"There's another boy in here. He's not waking up. I pushed him behind those crates when the sirens sounded," I admit, nodding at the crates across the cage.
The brown haired boy walks over to the crates and his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
"Two Greenies?! And one of them's a girl?!" asks the dark-skinned boy, rhetorically.
The blonde boy crouches beside me and lifts my shirt up a little. He jumps back in horror as a bleeding wound about the size of a large softball is revealed on the left side of my abdomen.
"Alby, I don't think we can carry her. She's losing too much blood," comments the blonde boy. The dark-skinned boy looks over at my wound and his eyes widen.
"Oh shuck!" he gasps. "Someone call Clint and Jeff. Gally, you go get two of those makeshift gurneys the Builders made."
The blonde boy places a reassuring hand on my shoulder and his gaze meets mine.
"We're going to have to lift you onto the gurney. It's probably going to hurt a lot so we'll try to do it as quick as possible. Trust me," he explains.
"I don't even know your name," I mutter.
"My name's Newt. That's Alby and Gally just jumped out to get the gurneys. It's okay if you don't remember your name. It should come back to you in a couple of days," replies the boy.
I nod, slowly. I look up as Gally passes a gurney down to Alby who places it on the floor of the metal cage. A boy with curly, brown hair and an Asian boy jump down into the cage and land beside the gurney.
"Hey, she's pretty," points out the Asian boy. "I'm Minho."
"Lay off the girl will you," remarks the curly haired boy. I manage a small smile before the curly haired boy gasps. "What happened to you?"
"No memories remember. I don't know," I groan.
"Oh right. I'm Clint, by the way," says the curly haired boy. "Minho, Alby, Newt and I are going to lift you onto the gurney, okay?"
I take a deep, shaky breath and nod. Minho and Newt grab one of my arms each and Alby and Clint each grab a leg.
"On the count of three," announces Alby. "One… Two… Three!"
When I come to consciousness, I see Alby, Clint, Newt and Minho in the middle of an argument.
Clint kneeling by my abdomen, Alby standing beside him, Newt next to my leg and Minho holding my wrist, probably making sure my pulse stays normal.
"Clint, why can't you fix her?" questions Alby.
"There's some sort of venom or poison inside her. If I bandage her up she's just going to get really sick and die!" yells Clint.
"Well what do you suppose we do? If we don't do anything she's just going to bleed out!" counters Newt.
He, Minho and Clint stand up and the four boys start arguing by the foot of the bed I'm on.
Suddenly, an image pops into my head. An image of some sort of symbol. It's a wispy line that ends up crossing over itself.
Before I know it, I'm sitting up and pulling a weird, pen-like object out of my leather jacket's pocket. On end of the object has a short, thin bulb of light. I hold that end up over my wound and start to draw the symbol.
It burns my skin and causes me to breath heavily. This brings the four boys' attention to me and they gasp.
They rush to pull the pen away from me but I finish drawing the symbol before they can get to me. A wave of calm passes over me as I fall backwards, feeling the pen slip from my fingers.
The last thing I see are the worried faces of Alby, Newt, Minho and Clint before my vision goes black.