Chapter One

When I was 7, my father died. It was my fault, too. The doctors said it was some sort of lung cancer, a type that they never knew existed. My mom and I...we didn't believe them. For some reason we thought that cancer had vanished. The cure was supposed to keep any strands from moving on to the next generations. It was administered to every person in Illea over seventy years ago, with the promise of no more disease. We believed their lies. We were swayed by propaganda and lies.

They shouldn't have gotten our hopes up. They should have been cautious, checking every vaccine for defects. They were lazy though, and it costed my father his life. He was only thirty-five.

I remember being a Two. I remember living in an enormous house with grand stairwells and marble floors. I remember having maids dress me every morning, evening, and night. I remember learning piano from the best teacher, playing sports in the best facilities,eating the most amazing foods, and learning the most beautiful languages. I remember a mother who loved me and my brother, who would never imagine abandoning us.

Memories are futile though, and some aren't what they seem- I know that now.

My mother left us when I was 10. There was no warning involved. The day before she was in the house, watching the report, and the day after she was gone.

I went looking around the house at first, thinking that she was hiding; possibly playing hide-and-seek with us. I checked every hiding place I could think of. I asked the maids if they saw her, and they all said no.

I didn't realize it at the time, but I think that they knew. They knew that my mother had left her two children to fend for themselves, but didn't want to be involved.

Eventually, I came to the conclusion that my mommy was gone. All I wanted to do at that moment was cry, but instead I started over towards Andrew (my younger brother) and picked him up. I took him up to my room, laid him down on my bed, and started packing. I knew enough about the caste system to know that I couldn't stay in the house if I was an orphan. My brother and I were officially eights. I grabbed my comfiest clothes and two pairs of running shoes and stuck them in a small bag. Then I swung the bag over my shoulders and walked to Andrew's room. I got his warmest clothes, his favorite shoes, and his pacifier in another bag, hoping he would be okay without his stuffed animals. Andrew was still where I left him when I returned. I scooped him up in my arms, making sure he was secure on my side, and then we left. I didn't look back at the house I grew up in. At that moment, it was too painful.

We lived in an orphanage for three years, though it felt like centuries. We barely had enough money rationed for one good meal when we arrived. When the 'house mom' saw us come in, she made a deal with me though. She saw that my fingers were nimble from playing the piano, and told me that she would give me and my brother food if I became the new seamstress there. I agreed to her terms and made garments for every kid when they requested something and had the money to buy it. It was an annoying and painful job, but I would do anything to keep my brother alive and well.

Finally, a week before my fourteenth birthday, our saviors arrived.

Shelly and Sydney Taylor, sixes with enough money to be fives, were walking through the back streets of Kent when they saw us through the orphanage's windows and stopped.

Shelly says it was my eyes that drew her to me. 'Big, round, and blue as the ocean,' she told me once, trying to recount that day. It was true, I did have really blue eyes that caught someone's attention now and again. I guess that was something I could thank my good-for-nothing mother for.

Whether that was the reason or not, the Taylor's used their all of their money they had saved up to get us out of there. They didn't ask us any questions about our past, and for that I was grateful. I spent years thanking them over and over for saving us... but to no avail. They were happy so long as Andrew and I were alive and well.

That's what my real parents should have been like. Concerned for our safety, nurturing and kind of heart.

Four and a half years later, and here I am: eighteen years old, and still a seamstress, but a seamstress with a loving brother. He and I are now legally sixes, and part of the Taylor household. We have three adoptive siblings and though we don't all share the same blood, we are more bonded than any real siblings ever will be. I would do anything for them, and I know that they would do the same for me.

This was more like a background chapter so you know the main character better. Don't worry, you'll know her name soon. I just want you to understand how she ticks and what her personality is like before I tell you what she looks like and her name. Next chapter will be more in depth and more of a 'in the present' story. Remember, I love suggestions, and I love constructive criticism, so review and PM. If you liked this chapter, please favorite and follow so you can read more! :) Thanks for reading guys!

-Property of Illea