Do not defy the capitol. Do not. It is the only advice I can give you. Why you ask? Well take a single look at me.
"EMBER! EMBER! GET DOWN HERE NOW!"
"Coming!" I reply.
I glare at the ceiling, shaking my head as I stagger down the stairs. The old, worn, over used steps creaking and groaning under my feet. My hands grasp the oak banister, trying to stop myself from falling over. A sharp shooting sensation rockets up my crippled leg. I give a loud yelp.
"EMBER PALO YOU CURSED CHILD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE NOW?"
"Nothing." I stammer back.
"You better have."
Marie Varquesh. The tall brooding angry woman who runs our orphanage. The one who wields the whip, who deals out the punishments. She may be horrible, but at lest she is not as bad as the peacekeepers.
Peacekeepers, pah, they are more likely to cause us to rebel than anything.
"What do you want me to do Miss?"
"Give this to Mr Olaf."
She hands me a brown envelope. Deliveries. She couldn't have given me a worse task. I am crippled. One leg is wounded beyond repair. It happened when I was supposed to be fixing the electrics, I know. She could have done it much better, but she like seeing me suffer. A single electric charge, all it took to change my body. Just like how a single word changed my life.