Prologue: Differences.
"Don't you get it?" The voice of a young woman echoed through the small house. "You don't have a say in this anymore!" The owner of the voice, a brunette with piercing blue eyes, glared at an older woman in front of her. "You can't control me, you can't tell me where I can and can't go, and you sure as hell can't call the cops on me for leaving!" The older woman's shock was evident, but it was nearly drowning under the furious gaze of the younger.
The young woman slung the messenger bag high onto her shoulder and stormed out of the room, tennis shoe covered feet squeaking against a hard wood floor as the girl reached the front door. The older woman chased her, but stopped short at the door. "Kathryn Ann Wallace, you get back in here this instant!"
The brunette unceremoniously flipped the older woman off as she climbed into the car parked in the street. The tires squealed as Kathryn sped away.
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Thursday Lawrence rubbed her temple exasperatedly. Her dim desk lamp did little to illuminate the textbook in front of her, but if she turned on the bedroom light, her younger sister would wake up. The apartment was hardly the best place to study in the first place, but since her sister had caught the flu, it was nearly impossible.
Just as Thursday decided maybe it was time to pack up and try again when the sun was a little higher, the sound of coughing stopped her. She turned to the young girl on the double bed behind her, only to see that the youth's rag had fallen off her forehead in her sleep.
Thursday plucked the rag off the floor with a sigh. Ally,she thought, you really need to get better soon.Deciding that the rag was now dirty, the older girl went down to the kitchen to get a replacement. Despite being only six years older than the ten year old; she was getting good at taking on the motherly role.
As she added water to the rag, the coughing started again. I better grab a glass of water too.
Doing so, the sixteen year old went back to the room she shared with her sister to find that she was still coughing, and that a red liquid was dripping from where the younger girl was now covering her mouth. Eyes widening, the girl rushed to her sister's side, setting the water on the bedside table. "Ally? Ally let me see." The small girl moved her hands from her mouth but continued to cough as the blood that had been cupped in her hands fell to the blanket below. "Dad!"
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Patrick Mason was walking the most annoying Pomeranian at six in the morning. The sun had barely lit the sky, but the light brown pom pom had already decided it was time to get up. And so, after dealing with the most irritating bark at his door for nearly half an hour, the black haired teen had given up on sleep.
He didn't realize that in his half-asleep walk he'd stumbled into his classmates yard, and because of this it came as quite the surprise when their front door burst open and the father of said classmate came running out with the girls younger sister limp in his arms. Wide awake now, Patrick ran to the side of the car, one yapping Pomeranian in tow. "What's going on?"
"We've got to get her to the hospital!" A familiar voice spoke from behind him. He turned to see the classmate he'd been expecting, Thursday. Despite normally being polite, she pushed passed him and into the back seat, cradling her sisters torso.
Not knowing exactly what possessed him to do so, the teen climbed into the remaining seat and brought the dog along with him. "Hush, Oly." The Pomeranian looked to him at the sound of his name, and with a whine, quieted. The family, clearly in too much of a rush to care, took off before he'd even shut the door completely.
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Kathryn kept the windows down and the music full blast. This was the happiest she'd been in ages. Sure, the sun was hardly up and it was a little chilly...but it brought with it the smell of freedom. Eighteen. Finally eighteen.
She threw her head back and laughed. Maybe it was a weird thing to do. She didn't care. She was finally out on her own, and she wouldn't have to deal with her mother or creepy step father again.
Her brown hair caught the wind and was thrown into her face. She let go of the wheel with one hand and brushed her hair back, seeing seconds too late that she hadn't yielded when she should have.
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Thursday saw the car coming straight for the back seat. Straight for her sister.
She tried to pull her out of the way, but she had buckled the girl in and it held. She desperately covered her sisters upper half as the car hit them.
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Patrick was looking out the other window when the collision happened. By the time he turned his head the rest of the car was spinning, and he wasn't sure which way he was looking anymore, or what way was up or down. A blinding pain stabbed at his stomach, and when the darkness came, he let it take him.
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Froi Tiedoll was admiring the view of a chapel, his canvas resting on an easel a few feet away, when something crashed into his fresh painting. The older man blinked in surprise and adjusted his now crooked glasses to get a better look at the now broken setup.
A boy lay unconscious on the woodwork, with a dog on top of him, licking his chin. But what really grabbed his attention was that the boy was bleeding. The kind general rushed forward, just as he heard the sound of another crash nearby. The crash was followed by a familiar yelp. Tiedoll turned back to see that two other forms had fallen on top of a very confused and slightly angry Daiysa Barry.