Summary: Influenced by The Hunger Games and D. Gray-Man comes the story of a girl named Lenalee and her fight just to survive.
Cataclysm: Chapter 1
It's a demented face complete with powdered cheeks and painted eyes that send chills up the spine. I can't look away at first, the patterns of color captivating me, luring me into its grinning acceptance. Barely breathing, I stand frozen in place, a sincere curiosity for this creature of death coming forth. I imagine this image could haunt me in my sleep, but since I don't sleep much I suppose it doesn't matter. It's coming for me now and once it starts I don't know how I'll stop it. The ground shakes and I remind myself of the one word that has kept me safe so far, run.
My name is Lenalee and I'm a member of the Black Order.
It's the first night of the race and while I'm not dead yet, I'm beginning to think it won't be long until someone or something changes that. I'm not alone out here but I might as well be. No one is going to help me, not when their lives depend on the expiration of mine. Crouching low I debate how badly I'm in it this time. Shots haven't been fired but it's only a matter of time before they do. I know what Akuma's can do, I know what they are, but there's a feeling of horror that runs along the currents of my veins and I'm ashamed of the stiffness to my fear.
The overwhelming stench of smoke has begun to cloud its way through the trees. Looking around I know they would rather see the forest burn to the ground than let me live a few more minutes. Holding a hand over my mouth I'm stunned by how fast the flames have grown. Feeling braver than my shaking knees I step out of my hiding spot and continue on my run, only this time… I fly.
Flying is probably not the most accurate word for what I do, what my innocence can do, but I imagine this leapfrog like ability is the closest to flying I'll ever get. I'm about to bound over the stream when something collides into my shoulder and I'm thrown. The wind whips my skirt around and I watch as my hair soars above me. Throwing my arms out in an attempt to regain my equilibrium I find that I've thought for too long and with a sickening thud I hit the first wall of rocks. My side takes the hit, the muscles pulled taunt as I flinch in pain. Lying there I blink rapidly, the throbbing pain drawing me under as I suck in a breath that just won't come. My legs hurt, the exhilarating use of them to escape the Akuma finally taking its toll.
I want to go home. The phrase doesn't feel right, but since I'm desperate I cling to it with all I have. Only the idea of home triggers my memory, makes it flash to moments I've tried to bury. I remember the restraints, the pain and the defeat of those first few years. After a while I guess I sort of shouldered the burden and pushed the angst behind me. In the beginning I thought it was torture, I had no idea it was experimentation. The idea that some sick mind was actually using me as part of their research never occurred to the seven year old me. Lucky for me I survived those initial tests and for the past two months I've been in training by the Black Order. The Black Order is just one of three teams that provide the race with its challengers. This year I've been picked to be a contender.
I shudder hard as a panicked breath finally fills my lungs. Choking, I clutch my side and grit my teeth in frustration. There's blood on the ground, the metallic taste lingering as I choke up another mouthful. I'm berating myself for letting my innocence fail me when I see the shadow of a figure above me. For someone who prefers the sky I am very vulnerable as I lie defenseless on the ground.
Through the pain and undeniable fear I force myself to meet this man's eyes. I'm wondering just who this competitor is as I stare at the scar that ribbons out from his left eye and the white hair that shadows the rest of his face.
I didn't volunteer for this, I never had a choice, but when I think about having to fight to the death I'm sure this is something I don't need to be scared of. I don't want to see the faces of the dead and I can't stand the idea of living in fear. I surrender to this man, to the figure that just stares at me as if I am a comparable intrigue.
I let my eyes close and hope that he will make it quick. Death has always looked much kinder and for the first time I accept that maybe it's time to meet it. The first time I saw Allen Walker I was sure he was an angel of death and that he had come to release me from this sick game.
A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my head, review and let me know what you think.