What if you had the ability to write? What if you couldn't control the story you created? And what if, the magic kingdom your hands are so keen on writing about turned out to be real?
Alessandra is used to the way things are. Life isn't great, but i...
She found a pen but couldn't find any paper so she approached a plain, boring, white wall. But when she got there, she couldn't write a word. No involuntary movements from her wrist, no words flooding her mind. Nothing. She had nothing.
Get over it. Get over Antupainkia.
A young, stocky woman with white blonde hair came to escort her to the training room, probably her trainer. She found herself even angrier. Angry at everyone for making her do this, at Atticus for suddenly giving up on her, at herself for not feeling anything before.
But she did now.
When they started warming up by running a few minutes and stretching, she was actually excited to start fighting. And when they did, Alessandra and her trainer were surprised at how her behavior changed. She became more aware than she had ever been, and faster. She could see the punches coming and got out of the way. When she threw a few punches at the young woman, her knuckles connected with her stomach and then with her jaw. She got punched a few times as well, but she was definitely winning. And all the while, inside her, she heard the distant voice: Didn't I bloody tell you?
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The rest of her morning went pretty much the same. It was like she had woken up, and now there was nothing to stop her.
And then she was introduced to the other ones.
She was taken to one of the training rooms, but noise was coming out of this one. And when the door opened for her, a group of five teens stopped what they were doing to stare at her. They were all a little sweaty, and had the same white uniform Alessandra did. They could see the surprise in her face, and seemed to understand. They looked at her with pity. One of them, a girl who must've been just a bit older than she was, with brown hair pulled back in a messy bun, stepped towards her.
"You must be the new one", she said, with a kind smile. Her hands were bandaged in the way that protects them when punching.
Alessandra still didn't move. She wasn't sure if it was just the surprise, or something else. She stepped back, ready to get out of there.
The training alone, the private tours, for the first time in her life, she had felt just a little special. Like she was the chosen one to do some important task. The only special one.
Except she wasn't. She felt betrayed, she realized. The other ones didn't look surprised at her reaction, though.
"It's ok. We've been through that. I'm guessing you thought you were the only one?"
Alessandra just nodded. A tall boy with completely white hair laughed. He was the same age as Alessandra, maybe just a little younger. And it wasn't a kind laugh.
"That's ok. So did every one of us", said another boy who had been behind the girl, giving a meaningful glare at the older boy. He looked way younger, maybe even twelve years old. He had messy honey blonde hair.
