"AVERY! GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE,NOW!YOU ARE GOING TO BE LATE FOR THE INQUISITOR,AND I WILL NOT MAKE UP ANOTHER EXCUSE JUST BECAUSE YOU DIDN'T SET YOUR ALARM!"

She woke with a start,eyes flashing wildly around the bare looking ten by ten space called her room,the small twin bed barely enough to fit beside the dresser and nightstand,clothing strewn over the floor,providing a soft pad for her feet as she swung her legs over,grabbing the shirt and jeans she felt to be the cleanest,taking only the shortest of a moment to rub her face.

Her mother was downstairs yelling obsceneties,and for the hundredth time this week,reminding her of her appointments with the dreaded Inquisitor,the man who would administer and review the results of her aptitude tests,and give heavy insight as to which field she should pursue.

Of course,it would end up being military,seeing as how her grades were less then exceptional,actually earning her a meeting with the headmaster,who suggested they place her in a more...helpful academy.
Orson's School for the Challenged,also known as Retard Academy.

Not that she had anything against the place,or the people there,but,everyone knew that once you were labeled an 'Orsie',you weren't even good for the military.

She thought about it somewhat absently,pulling her semi tattered jeans and blue Auburn t-shirt on,slipping her feet into the well broken in ostrich leather boots,the only thing she had that had cost more then fifty dollars.
Her family had stricken the line of poverty a few years prior,after her father was caught in an accident,and placed in a wheelchair,labeled as 'mentally distressed'.

So,they packed up and moved to the northern ,to be exact,one of the most hated cities in the continent,yet,one of the cheapest to move into,given the fact that nobody wanted to live there was dirty,dank,polluted,and contained the nastiest gangs she had ever ,she had come to call it home,and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Pulling her inky black hair into a simple bun,she caught sight of her arms,a reminder of something she tended to glowing green numbers meaning nothing yet,but still,they meant everything.A count down for how long she had to live,how long she could go,until the clock ran out.

Of course,she wouldn't have to worry about it much for another two months,but still,it offered a sense of fear.

0000 : 00 : 01 : 00 : 00 : 00

One day,twenty four hours.

That was all she had when she turned twenty one,and she intended to make it last.