A/N: Well this week was busy! I had a bunch of things to do and so this update may be a little shorter than usual. That being said, I hope you guys are enjoying the story. I get if the plot's getting a bit boring and long (endings tend to be my breaking point) but please stay till the end! It makes the journey all the more worth it.
Gucci Mane LaFlare - Thanks. I try to put a lot of effort into the chapters, especially the memories, and I'm glad you're enjoying them.
Till next time,
D.L.D
Heather's P.O.V
"She hasn't come home for a day now," My mother's worried voice rang through my ears as I walked down the rainy streets.
Once again the weather was deciding to be shitty since Autumn was well developed. Windy afternoons, hours of heavy downpours and even thunderstorms had begun to plague everyone and even I was beginning to grow annoyed at it. After all, try heading to the hospital in this weather and all sorts.
It sucks. Truly.
"Maybe she crashed at a friend's place," I say as I enter the shelter of a nearby bus stop. The rain was coming down really hard today, it'd be better to catch a bus even if it's full of people. At least then I'll probably grab one of those honorary seats for pregnant people.
"She hasn't, I've called all her friends," My mother sighed. I imagined her running her hand down her face, creases in her brow from stressing. "She hasn't been in school, hasn't been seen...she didn't even show up for work. I'm worried Heather."
My eyes widen at her words, the meaning of them processing through my brain. My sister hasn't been seen in twenty four hours. Not at school, work - anywhere. The last time she was seen was when she was getting ready for work and apparently my brother decided it was the perfect time to ruin her day. Noe she hasn't been seen anywhere.
"Are you sure she hasn't been seen?" I ask, brow quirking as a bus pulls up.
People flood onto it, but I wait. I'll get on the next one.
"Yes," My mother breathes out, sniffling. "I've filed a missing person's report but they say she's a runaway and - "
"Ok mom I get it," I say, growing annoyed with her moping and self-pity.
If Marietta has truly gone missing then why? It'd take a lot for my little sister, who put up with all the crap my family has thrown at her, to run away or even just up and go without saying. I always knew that she would leave us all behind when she got older, say that she needs some headspace and move away. I just didn't think it'd be now. Not when she had a future ahead of her and people that did care for her.
"Just...please help look for her," My mother's voice was breathy, short. Like she was holding back sobs. "Damion's been out all night looking and so have the neighbors and her friends. I'm just so worried Heather. What if - what if she does what Dana did?"
I freeze, the phone loose and heavy in my hand. It feels like a brick rather than a link to the world. An object that is just there. Words, thoughts and memories spin in my mind, hurting my skull and blurring my thoughts as tears subconsciously fill my eyes. Tears that had been spilt all too many years ago.
"I - I have to go," I choke out, voice thick. "I'll cover downtown since I'm already there. Call me if you find her."
I then hang up, wiping my eyes and stepping out into the rain. I open my umbrella and watch as the rain patters onto the translucent material. The rhythm is so consistent, so constant - like the sound of my feet when I'm running. But why am I running? What am I running towards?
I don't know. All I know is that I'm running towards her - I'm running towards my sister.
Shawn's P.O.V
"Well I bet you feel dumb for thinking we all turned into zombies," Amy laughed.
It's been a few days since I decided to chance it and see if the zombie apocalypse thing was happening and I found out I was wrong. In fact I had been way off about why everyone on campus was ill and sluggish. Everyone seemed to make it the butt of their jokes and even now I can't escape it.
"Yeah, especially when I found out Chef's food caused it," I grimaced as I suppressed a shiver. Chef's food was the stuff of nightmares - I mean actual nightmares. If food was a type of monster, then Chef's would be the living abomination of it. His food had been responsible for at least a couple dozen sick calls home.
"To be honest that isn't the surprising part," Harold spoke as he shoveled ice-cream onto his spoon. "What was shocking was that people actually attended the course. I thought most students these days knew such things were 'unnecessary.'"
"Well opinions change over time," Jasmine smiled at me, expression fond. "Plus we could all do with some survival skills."
"Ain't that the truth," Amy nodded as she watched the syrup drip from her pancake stack. "Speaking of opinions, we need to get rid of Chris. Gwen and Courtney told me that he's got this thing going called Life Plans. Apparently our whole lives are mapped out on them."
"Life Plans?" Harold raised a brow. "You mean like from that anime?"
"Yeah..." Amy frowned as she took a bite of her stack. "What do you guys think about it? You think it's another conspiracy theory?"
Amy did have a point. The claim was outrageous, possibly illegal too, however it wasn't beneath Chris to do anything like that. I'm sure he has before.
"I mean I'd like to say yes," Jasmine sighed as she scratched her head, "But we all said Gwen was lying last year and she proved us all wrong. I sure felt as dumb as bricks after Chris exposed the college, who knows what else he could have planned."
Harold and I nodded in agreement.
It was true. Chris always had some sort of plan for us: his first generation students. We were some sort of possession he just couldn't get rid of; couldn't part with. He always found a way to loop us into his plans for our lives slowly messing with our heads and everyday habits. I'm sure most of us wouldn't be as fucked up as we are if Chris had just let us have normal lives during college, but as usual he made us do as he planned.
"Yeah the man's a professional sicko," I nod in agreement. "I think he has a whole town built."
"That's what the rumours detail," Harold sighed, "Apparently we're all gonna live in a town and become a government experiment. A look into what forcing teens into being stereotypes does to their adult lives."
"It's all fucked up really," Amy sighed as she dropped her fork onto her plate. She folded her arms. "We're all fucked up really."
"Don't say that - " Jasmine frowned as the blonde simply shook her head.
"Just think about it, I mean could we really function in a normal society?" She pressed, "I mean we've been under Chris' rule for so long and with that we got away with a lot of shit. I should be in jail right now, really. Maybe going into normal lives would be dangerous. The town could be the best thing for us."
I try to remain skeptical of her claims, but I find myself agreeing. In fact I even back it up.
"She's right, maybe living in an attraction might be good for us," I sit back with a sigh. "After all none of us are normal."
Words of agreement go around the table and it was settled. None of us would do anything to stop Chris' Life Plans, after all we'll probably follow them willingly or not.
Mike's P.O.V
"How are you doing this week Mike?" Mrs Davey gave me a warm but concerned smile as I sat on a sofa.
"I'm doing ok," I give her a quaky smile in response.
I lied. I wasn't doing ok. Adjusting with having Chester and Svetlana gone was tough, I'd wake up with memories and vivid flashbacks often crying silent tears. My emotions were all over the place, mostly frustration and self pity taking over. I'd had mood swings, bad days, even spells of depression or really high moments. It was like being bi-polar but knowing that you could snap out it.
All sorts of thoughts went through me too. Some were about happy moments, relishing in the small warmth and comfort that they provided before suddenly being replaced with cold and dark ones. All the death and trauma that shadowed my early life. Blurred flickers of things I'd yet to unblock had started flooding in with them, voices and actions making me feel as if I was trapped in an endless cycle.
It was hell.
"Well I thought you might say that," The older woman spoke tartly as she rummaged around her desk. She then pulled out a bottle of pills and a note. "I'm going to give you these and schedule more appointments. I understand that adjusting is hard and so I'm here to help."
Mrs Davey then set the things on the table between her armchair and myself before prepping the machine. She seemed distant as she did so, her eyes hazed as she thought.
"I saw some of the stuff in there," Her voice was quiet. "I know it's unprofessional to bring it up, but what you went through was tough Mike. You've made a pretty good job of the shit the world's gifted you with. I'm sure this time will be the same."
"Thanks..." I say more to myself than to the woman. Although would she said would usually inspire a smile, I couldn't muster the strength to do it. Lack of sleep and a switching of moods and memories only made trying to convey them outside tiring. Exhausting. Trying to show how I felt was like trying to teach a cat to read. Impossible.
"Well let's get started then," Mrs Davey smiled, clapping her hands, but I knew that she was concerned.
Nevertheless she didn't say anything about it and soon I was plugged in. Then I drank the liquid again and all went black, repressed memories surging back in a violent storm.
"Where are we going?" The words leave my mouth in a confused tone as I walk along the road with my social worker.
It had been months since Medallia's murder and while the case went on Ellie and I were kept safe. The police feared that the murderer had wanted us dead as well, however they showed no signs of attack and we were sent into the system again. This time separated.
I can still remember Ellie crying when I gave her my stuffed zebra - the only thing that I kept of my grandparents. I told her to look after it for me, that I'll see her soon and she mustered up a watery smile.
That had been hours ago and now I was walking down the road, holding the hand of my stressed looking social worker, Kenny. Kenny wasn't the sort of person who particularly took time to play with kids, however he didn't hate them either. In fact he seemed to be ok with being around us, it was the responsibility and seeing the victims of abuse that he couldn't stand. He had to be a newbie in the system. I'd seen it from day one.
"To your new placement," Kenny responded, making sure to sound ok instead of stressed. "Mr and Mrs Tate are lovely people. They have three other children your age in their care."
I nod but lose Kenny in the words, looking at the houses we pass and trying to see which one could be the one I go to. There were large ones, small ones, cosy ones, green ones, yellow ones, tall ones and even really fancy ones. But we didn't stop until we reached the end of the road, standing at the lawn of what appeared to be the average home.
Outside were three other kids all of them playing with water guns and squealing as the water blasted them. A man was with them, laughing as he filled the kiddie pool with a hose. Sometimes he'd wet the kids when they passed by.
The perfect scene for when the social worker visits.
"Mr Tate?"
"Ah Kenny," The man nodded towards the social worker, a smile on his face. He then looked at me, something unrecognized registering through him. "This must be the new addition."
"Yes this is Mike," Kenny nodded, pushing me forward slightly. "I've told you about his requirements and past already, but I'd just like to go over them before I leave."
"Yes of course," Mr Tate nodded, heading towards the front door. "The Mrs is inside, we'll talk there."
Kenny nodded and headed inside, leaving me with the three kids. They had all stopped playing now, all of their attention focused on me. There were two girls and a boy, me making the gender ratio equal. They all wear swimwear and seemed to have happy faces, however that unspoken thing was hidden behind them too.
"You know the last boy left cause of Mr," The oldest looking one, a girl with pigtails nodded towards the house. "Him and the Mrs are something else when the social workers leave."
The other two nodded, sad expressions coming onto their faces.
"You'll be first tonight," The boy warned, brows furrowed.
"First for what?" I ask, a lump forming in my throat as I began feeling more and more paranoid. Something was off about these kids. They were too cryptic, too vague. Something was being hidden by them, something about Mr and Mrs Tate however they seemed nervous to spill.
"You'll find out tonight," The other girl spoke and then they went to play with a ball.
Slightly shaken I sat on the front steps waiting for Kenny to come out. I didn't want to stay here. Not after what I heard from those kids. Something goes on behind closed doors here and I know it does because the older kids in my old homes told stories about it. Stories about foster parents who starved you until you fainted; stories about people who beat you until you can't stand or even crawl; stories about never having your own bed at night or being violated beyond feeling weird about it anymore; but worst of all were the stories of both. Those stories were always the worst because they seemed like the most cruel of them all.
Soon Kenny emerged looking quite pleased. I frowned at this. Clearly the Tates were well versed in convincing the workers - like most foster parents who are monsters behind the scenes. However I couldn't let it show or they might label it as lies or paranoia. Not just that, but they may even say it's because of my experiences. My past. I might have to go to therapy again.
"What's wrong Mike?" Kenny raised a brow as he looked at me, "You don't like it here?"
"No," I shake my head, tucking my knees to my chest.
"Well..." Kenny sighed, "The Tates seem like decent people and they seem to have a nice place. Give it a shot for a week ok?"
I nod however my brain tells me to scream no, but I know it won't get me anywhere. So instead I wear a smile as the social worker says goodbye and begins to disappear from view. Soon Kenny is gone and I'm left on the steps, head tucked with my knees.
"Alright runts come in!"
I can't remember much more from then, only being dragged inside and being stood in a line. It was cold, real cold but I couldn't shiver. Not even when I was roughly undressed and forced to stand in my underwear. Weird hands with no owners ran down my body but I couldn't move or shiver - one movement meant one beating and those were terrible.
Blurred scenes, ruined and smudged from forced erasure and constant ignoring, passed in those few seconds. All of the children, including me, having to stand still and not say a word. Each day, from sunup to nightfall, we would all expect to be 'inspected' once a day. A terrible event that happened daily in my early life.
Inspection was a habit - no form of control - the Tates had over us. During inspection we would have to strip to our underwear and stand before the pair, any complaints and we would be beaten or even worse locked in the hall closet for a night. Those nights were often long and drew on forever. Then we would be inspected, limbs checked and all parts of the body groped and moved in a sort of sick routine until they told the others to get dressed and head to their room while they dealt with the last one left. The last one was the one who had to go through the worst - something I do not remember anything of. All I actually remember was leaving a room and crying. I cried myself to sleep; I cried while I ate; I cried inside during school.
However the cycle didn't break. It continued on and on for around a year until Kenny caught on and removed me from the home. But what went on there still scars me. I've hidden all that has to do with it and so it took the form of Vito. Someone who wouldn't let someone grope and them and use them unwillingly. Someone who could fight back and felt like all the other kids. Someone who fit in.
"I knew I had to be next," Vito kissed his teeth as he looked at the blurred image flickering before us.
We were in a movie theatre, the seats empty and popcorn piled on either side of us. I looked at my hands and noticed that they rested on a red velvet seat, the material soft yet firm under my skin.
"Well those memories were next," I say, my throat dry as I stare at the screen. "I figured you would be after Chester and Svetlana."
"Well you were right," Vito sighed as he leaned back into his seat. "Damn creeps messed us up real fine? Am I right or right?"
"Right," I answer drawing my eyes from the screen. There was no point at staring: it was blank. Blackened and blurry images plagued it and so all I was reminded of was how alone and frightened I felt. How I came out crying each and every time.
"Well accept it then," He was face to face with me, brows furrowed and fixed with a frown. "It happened and you moved on. Y'know those douches are long gone and that you did all you could. Man up and let it go."
"But - "
"No buts Mike, just do it," Vito gave me a grin. "It's not right to cry, aight? I'll see ya on the other side - Chester and Svetlana too."
Then he faded away, the screen still flickering in place in the empty theatre.
Courtney's P.O.V
"So we have to wait till next month?" I ask, my brow pinching as I listen to my lawyers.
So far they'd done pretty well with working on making Chris' Life Plans void, however they said they found a problem. Something about tricky wording and clauses was causing them to take longer than usual with Chris' contracts. In fact they said he made it pretty well and may have made it the only part that was foolproof.
That news worried me.
If that was true then all of us - no I'd - have to stay in that freak show of a town he'd built for us. For the past couple of years now I've been looking forward to ditching this dramatic atmosphere and the crazy lifestyle it brought, but now I was hearing I was stuck with it - well you can imagine how I feel. Like a ticking time bomb. Yes I mean it literally.
"Possibly," My lawyer answered and the sound of paper filled my ears. "Maybe longer. Chris seemed to have this section air tight, so we'll develop a backup while we have a crack at finding a loophole."
"Wait, so this place will still be open for a while?" I worry my bottom lip as I clutch my phone.
Since finding out about these Life Plans I'd been riding on the hope that my lawyers would bust me out immediately, but this issue was making it much harder. So much harder. I mean it's not easy knowing that the rest of your life won't be yours. You'll get a job that's dictated to you, marry who you're set to marry and probably have the amount of kids Chris has set. After all the man is a certified sociopath. He probably planned this from the start - yes from when we all first landed in his high school. Now that I think about it, it would explain all of the weird rules and contracts for it. Chris sure did love controlling us.
I suppress a shiver as I try to focus on my lawyer's words, letting the rustling of paper and tapping of computer keys fill my senses.
"Well that's what we've gathered so far," They sounded focused, in concentration. The sound of flickering pages joined them. "We're trying our best to get you out Miss Fairbank but the wording is tricky. As stated before Chris has clearly revised it over for loopholes."
'Of course he has,' I let out a mental sigh as a hand passes over my face. All of this thinking about my helpless situation was getting to my head. I needed a break. No I needed a permanent break. But where could I get one now? Especially during the college term.
"Ok just work as fast as you can," I say as I decide to wrap up my check in. I'll call tomorrow to see if they've gotten any further in the case. "This place is driving me nuts."
"Don't worry we'll solve it," That was the reply before the call ended. Just like that. It just disappeared, like a flickering light in a sea of darkness.
I let out a chuckle as I head towards the kitchen deciding to make a snack. Disappear: It's such a funny word, yet it describes my situation perfectly - well my dreams for the future anyway. After all, after Chris' Life Plans came out they all seemed to disappear too.
I wonder what'll be next...
Zoey's P.O.V
"Gymnastics tryouts?" Bridgette raised a brow as I showed her the pamphlet for the auditions being hosted by the local team.
They were looking for a new member for the national tryouts since the Olympics were nearing and they were choosing athletes. I was always told that I would be good at the sport, especially because I showed great skill when 'Commando Zoey', however I always hesitated with gymnastics. Peer pressure and teasing were major factors of it, but also the dedication and fear of failing or becoming bitchy like Heather or Anne-Maria were.
However now that I'm a grown up and have been in college for a solid year I'm certain that this is something I want to do for me. After all I had always watched the Olympics with keen interest growing up. I'm sure going into the profession will be fine.
"Yeah they're holding auditions today," I say as I prod my pasta with my fork. "I was thinking of trying out."
Bridgette paused as she looked at the paper, staring at the image for what seemed like ages before shooting me a smile. It was warm and bright - supporting as it always was and doused with the motherly care she'd developed over the past year.
"Well I think you should do it," She passed me the pamphlet. "I mean you are good at it and it would get you out of this dump."
"And out of Chris' Life Plans," Courtney sighed as she typed away at her phone. "My lawyers are still nowhere in this case and it is driving me insane! I don't think i can live knowing that my whole life is going to be dictated by that psychopath."
"I don't think any of us can," I nod in agreement as I tuck the paper away in my bag. "What do you think on it Gwen? Leshawna?"
Both perked up at the mention of their names before frowning as they thought. Leshawna was the first to speak, a pissed look on her face as she voiced her opinion.
"It's a load of bull if you ask me," She frowned as she stopped eating. "I mean Chris has no control over what anyone does with their lives or body. We could elope, move away, have kids with some douche who doesn't care -" Leshawna sighed as she unclenched her fists. She then tucked a stray hair behind her ear and continued, " I could go on really. But the main point is Chris can't do shit."
Nods and words of agreement went around the table, all of us seeing where she was coming from. Chris had no actual control over us. He didn't, but the feeling of invisible chains and whips he has held over us isn't nothing. We know that Chris can do things, very bad things, and so we all fall into line and follow his orders acting like sheep.
All because of that stupid contract.
I feel like slapping myself for signing that back in high school, but then again my thirteen year old brain didn't know any better. Really it was inevitable. We all would've ended up signing that thing one way or another.
"He still has control," Gwen scoffed as she rolled her eyes. "As much as we can riot and stir up trouble, Chris can shut it down. He always does. Do you know how many times students have tried to burn down the school? Or commit suicide? Chris just keeps us all living to watch our lives move on."
"Well that's sad," Courtney shook her head, before smiling. "But we shouldn't be focusing on that. We should be wishing Zoey good luck with the tryouts."
And with those words a new conversation was brought up. Before I knew it, I was leaving the diner and on a bus heading to tryouts and feeling as stuck as ever.
Sky's P.O.V
"Oh come on I'm not that bad!"
I sigh as another person purposefully avoids me, a look of disgust and contempt on their face. Looks I've grown used to over the course of high school and college. Looks that have become my only reminder of who I am.
Ok I get it, in the early years of high school I was a bitch. A mega bitch. I dated a guy, led another guy on, cheated on my boyfriend, then drove the other guy to crazy town when he found out about my boyfriend, then dumped my boyfriend and felt like the biggest whore ever. I made a huge mistake back then and I get that. I messed up epically. Astronomically. If there was a scale for how messed up I was back then, then I would be at a gillion.
But I've changed.
No really I have. I've seen that I was wrong and have apologised to both my boyfriend and the other guy (Dave), but it never was enough. After years and years of trying to improve my image and make up for my mistakes, I've still been left at the bottom. I mean the bottom. Even freaks like Ezekiel and the Stepbros won't talk to me. I'm the person everyone pretends is invisible and deserves to be. But even after serving the right amount of punishment I'm left out. The image of who I was is still there and reminding me constantly that no-one will ever forget.
Forgive but never forget.
"Just go away," A new student, one who probably spoke to an older student, sneered as she pushed me aside. "People like you aren't welcome here."
I clench my fists, resisting the urge to burst into tears.
"I know," I say and turn away deciding to just head back to my dorm.
There wasn't even a dormmate for me, just an empty space with an extra room. I had the whole place to myself - an island in the sea of the college - and yet I feel unsatisfied. Incomplete. I have no place here, clearly. I'm an outsider.
Maybe it is time for me to go...
I sigh as I reach my doorstep. I unlock the door and find a letter from Chris, probably to get me to leave from the campus. He'd been sending these to students he didn't particularly favor or were 'too normal for the next step'. So he sent letters detailing that we'd be given good jobs and grades and sent to live in the 'normal' world. We were even told about how this whole college - and high school sister location - was an experiment. That we were acting as certain stereotypes to see what effect it would have on us. As you could imagine mine had the most fucked up result.
However people in this college would die - or kill - to be given a letter from Chris allowing them to leave and move on. The Life Plan rebellion plans were examples of that. So I should feel fortunate for being given such a letter. Maybe it was fate for me to be one of the few to be rejected and allowed a normal life.
I head to the kitchen, leaving the letter and getting some paper and a pen from my bag. Clearly it was time for me to do something I'd been putting off for a while.
It was time for me to leave.
Lindsey's P.O.V
"Excuse me is this the lib- bra - ry?" I say the words slowly, making sure to try and get the sound right.
Since I'd always struggled with words, numbers included, I was recommended to go to the library to study more. According to my teachers I had the potential to do really well in my exams, problem was my ability with words and things like that was limited. From a young age I'd experienced brain blanks and often forgot things unless they were emphasized daily, as a result I forget a lot of things usually names and dates and stuff. But it's gotten better over time and I feel like I'm getting better.
Plus studying at this libra-airy might actually be a good thing. That's where all the smart people go after all.
The person I asked simply nodded, busy looking at a book.
"Oh," I glance at them for a second longer before heading to a bookshelf and getting a few books on the subjects I'd written on my hands.
I then returned to the same table the person was working at and opened a book. I read the first chapter for the mathematics book and soon was trying out the questions, but it was getting difficult. So I did what my teachers told me to do throughout school: Ask the person nearest to you.
"Do you know how to do this?" I slide the paper I was working out on over to the person.
They looked at it intently before nodding and motioning for me to watch. Throughout the whole thing they were silent, no words or sounds passing them, but somehow they managed to get their point across and show me how to answer the question. Soon I was quickly getting through them.
So each time I got stuck, I asked the silent guy sitting across from me. He always helped and somehow did it better than the books with his silent method and I was really thankful for that. Soon it was time for me to go and I couldn't help but feel as if I'd made a friend - no a study buddy. Yes this silent person was my study buddy. I'll have to meet them every time I need to study for an exam because they do a much better job than the teachers.
"Wow, thanks..." I trail off not knowing their name.
They write it down on a piece of paper.
"B?" I raise a brow confused, before smiling, "Oh B! I've heard about you, you're the silent techy guy!"
A series of shushes filled the air and I blushed.
"Sorry," I whisper-shout before smiling. "Well thank you C - no B. You're a very good buty studdy - no study buddy."
B simply smiled at my mistake and I left the library, messaging Tyler about how well it had gone and that I'd found a really good teacher. No study buddy. B was my study buddy and hey maybe he could help Tyler too.
