• INTRODUCTION thing... or first chapter. whatever. just read plz:

    I walked through the silent hallways, blood dripping down my face. It burned, but at least it wasn’t as bad as last time. This time it was just a smack with the butt of the gun, but last time it was worse.
    The blood started to drip down onto my shirt, so I ran faster until I reached the door I was looking for. I rapped my knuckles against the door, the strongest noise that I could make at the moment, and Joanne opened the door. When she saw me she didn’t look surprised,
    “What happened this time, Lexi? Didn’t jump in the right square?”
    I grinned at her, this was nothing compared to what they usually did to me, “No, I just wasn’t running fast enough.” They had me run across this room with small square tiles covering the bottom. I had to place my foot precisely in the middle of each square while I was running. They said when training a killing machine, each step had to be precise, so I would never trip and run with speed.
    Joanne was the only one here who cared about me. She helped me when they hurt me and bought me clothes and food, even though she got yelled at for it later. My kidnappers said it would spoil me. So I only got a new outfit was my clothes were so ragged they were falling off or I outgrew them so much that they were tearing.
    It hadn’t always been like this. I once had a family, a mother, father, and sister. Those last days that we had spent together were perfect; no one would ever expect that we would all disappear in a couple days. It had been a normal night. We all were eating dinner and suddenly strange sounds came from outside. Our parents had immediately gotten up and told us to go hide in the closet. I hadn’t known what was going on, but I had listened. I grabbed my sister and pulled her up the stairs, and shoved her in the closet. We heard loud booming noises, and at that age, we didn’t know that they were gunshots. But we knew what screaming sounded like. It was out mothers scream, and then after that silence. There were footsteps, coming up the stairs. And soon, a man appeared. He was covered in blood and had a gun in his hand. I was only 5 and had no idea what to do. But, who would, if they had a huge murderer in their house? The man had looked at me and had said,
    “Who knew they had a kid! Too bad, you’re not a boy. But I guess you’ll have to do.” Disappointed, he had snatched me by the collar and hauled me away.
    My sister was safe. So I didn’t care what would happen to me, as long as Saya was safe. Nothing mattered, not pain or loss, as long as my sister was ok and cared for.
    And from then, I never saw my family again. I had been kidnapped and brought here. They taught me fighting skills and pushed me to do better, even when I was doing it right. I would shoot the target in the bull’s eye, but I would still get hit against the wall. My choices were, get it right; you get a smack with my gun. Get it wrong; you get a broken bone and no food for a day. I had no idea how to please them, so I just had to learn to put up with the abuse.