The sun had been bright outside. The sunshine was warm. If they had believed us they would’ve survived. We knew it was coming, jack and i. We told them. “The government is signing our death certificate.” We said. The told us not to fib. not to lie. Not to cheat. But they were the ones cheating. Cheating us orphans out of, what we thought of as normal, childhood. To have friends. To jump. To skip. To run. Oh, those kids would’ve of killed to be normal. To go to school. To have parents. I felt a need to protect them, but failed
Most of them were abandoned. Not me. My parents, they, well, they were murdered. But not just by anyone. By my own uncle. I awaited the day to come that bombs would be dropped on the city. And it has come .fire. Blood. Hatred. Hurt. Murder. I hated them. I hated them all. They killed innocent people. Kids. Buildings were bombed. People shot down, innocent ones to. I cry for them. I would’ve cried more. Mourned for awhile longer but, the shadowy people of the days haunt you like ghosts. Sitting in the shadows, awaiting an innocent soul to become their newly hit victim, either killing them or turning them into monsters. Killers.
I wanted to kill those murderers. Take their lives for all the childrens lives they took. All those childhoods, ruined. Dead. Cold. I wanted to make them suffer, like they did those children. Those orphans. My family. I loved them like my sisters. Brothers. But, despite the amount of pleasure i would’ve got from the murder of those troops. I wanted no blood on my hands. None. No matter how evil, i wanted nothing to do with that inhumane crime of torture.
There we were. Sitting. In our ‘Creative Castle’. A bed covered in sheets, where we told all our stories. Memories, made up. Where we went to cry. To laugh. To smile. A place just for us. Kids. Innocent souls. I was telling my story when a new orphan entered our dorm. He smiled at me. He was about my age. Handsome. Kind. His eyes were gentle. He needed someone to be there for him. I made that my duty. Us kids, we had a routine which, the new orphan, named Jack, took hard to adapt. Wake up, a 5 am start. March down to the dining hall, single file, for breakfast. Stayed in our dorms between meals. And if we were lucky, we could go to the park or courtyard. Me and jack, we got along well. We snuck out to see each other in the courtyard, although we shared a dorm, we were not allowed to talk.
Then, only a week ago, the orphanage door was broken down and troops stormed in, shooting about like serial killers.They had been driven insane. Me and Jack had been talking in our dorm when we heard our mistres screaming down stairs. The adrenaline pulsed through my veins as i slammed through the doors of the younger ones dorm. Their terrified faces staring up at us for help. I looked at them sympathetically, one by one. Hazel. Jace. Haku. Sakura. Shaun. Fayah and Benjamin. The troops were storming up our stairs. Their boots hard aginst the pine wood floor. I knew they would find us, but i would’ve taken a bullet for those kids. Me and jack covered their bodies like sheets on a bed. Gentle but protective. We would do all we could’ve to help those kids. Whatever. But then they shot those kids down. One by one. Holding us down to watch their deaths. One by one. I shot to the heart. Hard and fast. One by one. We were knocked out flat. Cold. In darkness.
Water trickled down the window. Drip. Drip. Drip. The darkness shadowing my face. The loneliness unbearable. The world spun around. Full of terrible things. Murder. Blood. Fire. Hatred. I always did wander what would become of me. A nerd. An orphan. Alone the past etched in the cobblestone alleys. It smelt like urine outside. The room i had awoken in was a mess. Furniture overturned. Books and sheets, burnt. Dead bodies everywhere. Kids bodies. I tried not to smell their decaying forms. I must not of looked so good myself. My hair, obviously tangled. I was constantly wrapping it up when it fell loose, as it naturally did.my shoes, as new as they had been, tattered and stained a redish-brown colour. My shirt, in its past life was white, now it was bloodstained. He was after me now. He would find me.and by the sounds of it. Soon. Thud. “crap” i would’ve whispered, had it not been for my raspy and strangled voice. It came out more of a low and hushed croak. His steel-capped boots pounding against the cobblestone street got louder. Louder. Too loud. I managed a small peak out the shattered window. Rats whom had swarmed the street now ran and hid, scattered into the dains, only their small red beady eyes glared as his shadowing body approached the curb.my heart thundered profusely beneath my chest, hudding, flapping, like a bird inside my chest. Creak. The door swung open and bounced shortly aginst the bloodsplattered concrete wall, splintering in some places. Light, grey light, flooded in. The sudden light was quickly covered by a dark and podgy figure. I huddled deeper amongst the shattered glass and upturned furniture. Click. A bright flurescent light balled deep into my skull, temporarily blinding me.
I knew it was him. His smell. Cigars and damp cloth. Wafted into my nose making me cringe deeper into the corner, cowardly. I could hear his dripping trenchcoat flapping about in the wind, despite the gunshots, the screaming and sirens, hollowing down the alleys. He was here for me. A rascal he had called me. Worthless. His slave. His puppet. One name. No where to run.one place to hide. Discovered. Uncovered. Revealed. I fumbled around roughly for my dagger. Serated edged. Sharp. Hidden beneath my thigh. He pounded towards me. Thud, thud, thud. The jackal i called him. Vicious. Sick. A site no child should ever see. A murderer. Darkness, all around. Harsh sunlight hit the flames like a whip across a horses hide. His heavy, dragging footsteps it the wooden floor with a consistent thud. Thud. The crack of the glass beneath his boots too loud. He was close. So close i could smell his breath. Rotten. Cavity raided breath. I choked out a bit, gaging. I held my blade close as he paced back towards the door, turning on his heels to face me. His trenchcoat still dripped and flopped about in the wind.his hand flicked to the chains he would use to chain me and drag me away. I threw my knife, my joints snapping in the movement, in his direction, only to hear it fall short and clatter to the ground, among the glass.
He picked my up by my collar, slapping me hard down against the head of a broken bed. I turned my head to look at it. ‘Jack’ it said. My eyes blurred with tears, and then all i saw was darkness. Black. What i guessed, i was losing concioussness, and fast.i touched my side and moaned painfully. Blood gashed from it. Then all fell silent. All gone
congrats on having the ambition the write a novel! It's a really hard slog but if you're determined and have your goal, it's perfectly achievable so the best of luck, sincerely 
Gender:
Points: 1058
Reviews: 16