I just wanted to start another fanfic. WARNING VERY DEPRESSING! I decided that with this fanfic, I'm just gonna update when I finish writing the chapter. This isn't much like Maximum Ride, she doesn't meet them or anything, but it wouldn't fit under many other book categories. Anyway me hopes you likeys!
Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride or the School
Claimer: I do own Victoria and the plot.
A pinprick of hope
Introduction
I guess the first paragraph of a story is the best place to start introductions. Well, I'm Victoria. I named myself. Victoria is only my latest name. I named myself after a character in a book I got when I was 14. I haven't changed it for 10 years.
I have lived my life in the School my entire life, all 24 years of it. No, I'm not some cool hybrid like in the Maximum Ride series. I'm not even an 'improved' human. I'm an experiment. Too see how long I can stand it. Too see how long I can survive.
The last 4 years have been the hardest. Some 20 year olds get cool presents for their birthdays. But what do I get? I get the news of my new torture. For the last 4 years of my life, they've tested me on beating techniques. First, was the slapping. Then came punches. They then kicked me. Ever since then, they've tried out combos, multiple attackers and drugs.
Each time it's the same ending. Me, in a corner, trying to vanish. I've never seen the sun. Or the moon. The only way I know what time it is, is when the lights go on and off. Lights on at 6 AM, lights out at 11 PM. But, seeing as there are no windows, I have no idea if it's that time anyway.
The only time I ever smile is, or rather was, on my birthday. From age 5-10 I learnt how to read and speak. On my 5th birthday, a nice man gave me a book. It was called Possum Magic and I loved it. On my 6th birthday, he gave me a book of fairy poems. I loved that too. For my 7th birthday, he got me another fairy book. When I was 8, he got me a book on dragons. For my 9th birthday, he got me Maximum Ride (A/N I know it wouldn't have been out then, but just pretend it was), the first one. He got me the second one when I was 10, the third when I was 11 and the fourth when I was 12. He died before I turned 13, but the books still came. I think he already got all my books before he died, so that I could have them on my birthdays. For my 13th birthday, I got a book called The Devouring. When I turned 14, I got Twilight. On my 15th birthday, I got New Moon, Eclipse for my 16th and Breaking Dawn when I was 17.
The books stopped coming then, and I haven't smiled since. I didn't get much time for reading, only about an hour each day. I've treasured all my books, for all these years. I keep them in a pile in the corner, under my bed. If the people came in and found a book lying around, they would make me watch it burn. I learned that the hard way. I've kept my books in the same place ever since I was 6.
A spare change of clothes is chucked on the floor once every week. I know they have cameras watching my every step, but when you've lived that way your whole life, you get used to it. I only leave my room/cell once a month, for ice-cold showers. That's my favourite time of the month. And I guess I should mention that there's a toilet in my cell, so I don't leave for that reason either.
I've lived that way for 24 years, and I don't expect it to get better any time soon.
Did you like it? I thought it was alright. If you thought it was too sad/depressing, then don't read on. It only gets worse, trust me.
I just had to right a story about vulnerability, the idea has been clawing at my mind and I finally decide to give in.
Please review, all ideas welcome.
Alienated2
