Kaitlin Maye was fourteen years old, and a resident of Perdido Beach. She was Irish, until quite recently. Until the FAYZ came. Then everything changed. She went from the kind, shy and geeky person she was, to a very reliable and strong member of Edilio's crew. She'd liked him once, really truly liked him. He was so brave, and compassionate and well… Edilio. Now, as she patrolled the streets as part of Caine's crew, which she and her friends called 'the King's Army', she was far from normal. Her friends had left for the Lake, leaving her here to be hated on and loathed by everyone who didn't work for Caine.
"Hey, you lot! Leave him alone!" Kaitlin Maye yelled down the street in her strong Irish accent at a group of teenagers, obviously drunk, jeering at a young boy of about seven. He was whimpering beside a trash-can, clutching a well-worn teddy. Kaitlin's words went unnoticed, and , infuriated, she gripped her double-barrelled shotgun tighter and closed in. Finally, one of the boys noticed her and yelled something obscene, causing the others to burst out laughing. They all saw her now. Her courage crumbled a little at the looks she was getting in her denim shorts and plain t-shirt, covered by a dark trench-coat. "Now lads," She started as one boy not much older than her took a menacing step forward. Kaitlin's finger slid to the trigger and raised the gun. Immediately, the boy froze, a mixture of horror and wonder on his face, before he stumbled forward. Definitely drunk. Only one thing to do. She clicked the safety off and pumped the barrel, making that cool movie sound of loading a gun. Kaitlin loved that sound.
"Now lads, don't make me warn you again. Okay?" Kaitlin said as calmly as she could, and adjusted her grip on the gun. In reality, she was having a serious internal war. One part of her, the sane part, told her to lower the weapon and leave it at that. The little boy had run away and was probably safe.
But another part of her, that grew steadily, was a part that secretly longed for Drake. That little part. It whispered to her playfully in Drake's cold, cruel voice, the tentacle arm squeezing her heart and turning it to ice. Telling her to shoot. Telling her to kill the boy in front of her. And that little part said she'd enjoy it. What scared Kaitlin the most was that the sane part agreed. It knew.
Shaking herself slightly, she lowered the gun. Drake wasn't inside her; he was inside Brittney. She told herself she was just going insane, and that was it. Everyone was always a little insane, right? …Right?
"Okay get going ya eejits!" She shouted at the gawping boys, and after a moment's hesitation, they fled, casting anxious glances over their shoulders as though they expected her to shoot while their backs were turned. Furious tears poured down her cheeks, and she hung her head her dark, shoulder-length brown hair covering her face. Relaxing her firm grip on the shotgun, her knees buckled and she sat crumpled on the litter-strewn street. Shame washed over her in waves. The sobs racked her body, and she sat alone. No one came to see what was wrong.
No one ever cared about Kaitlin, just another one of Caine's pawns.