The inspiration for this story came from the author of Divergent, Veronica Roth, but mine is definately me own and I hope you love reading it as much as I did writing it.


2. 5:46 a.m.

     I wake up shivering wtih dried tears on my cheeks. I sit up, gasping, and unclench the sheets, knuckles crimson white. I tell myself simple commands and try to get focused. You need to calm down. You need to relax. You need to breathe. I take a deep breath and and walk to mirror on the wall. I see a girl no older than fourteen. She's scrawny and long-legged, but beautiful with her pale gray eyes, big lips, and simple curves. Her dirty blonde hair is thick, down, and wild, her curls falling off her shoulders. She wears a long grey t-shirt down to her mid- thigh. I know her, but her depressing state and tried stature were as unfamilar as a stranger. I walk out into the hallway and step into the bathroom. I splash water onto my face and walk back to my room. I sit back and stare at the wall, wondering why the dream was so emotional, so terrifying. To me, I just was lost in the nightmare, buffuddled enough to curl up in a ball and cry. I had to move on the dream. It won't matter in just a few minutes and no soul would know or be told. I stand up and walk to the closet, pulling out a grey t-shirt with black stripes. I slip on a pair of big faded jeans and my sneakers. I walk out of my room and into the kitchen, seeing Clementine siting at the table with coffee in her hands. Clementine is my couplet master. A couplet master is someone who takes care of you once when your parents leave. Your parents leave when you can walk and talk and don't need to be held and cooed at anymore. When your parents leave, they move into the government facility and wait until you get married to see you again. When your married, you and your spouse are called couplets. One of the couplets in the pair becomes a couplet master and the other one works for the government in any way the government needs them. You barely see your match, but you still can talk to them. When you get to certain age, the goverment puts you in the senior home until you die. Its a very confusing process, but that's for the governent to figure out. I sit at the table and glance at Clementine.

"Couldn't sleep?"


"I'm not surprised with all the raquet you made up there."

 I smile and walk to the counter to pour a cup of coffee for myself. Clementine is such a joker. She may be older, but she's still a child. Her name expresses her fiery red hair with matching blue eyes and kind face. Her big smile and glowing aura are hard to miss. She's curvy and girly and motherly so I couldn't ask for any more. Most couplet masters are strict and always look like they're sucking on marbles.

" You ready?"

" For what?"

" The orientation."

I groan "That's today?"

"Yeah, you didn't remember the most important day of your life?"

I turn away. If only she could see that going through this was not the easiest thing in the world, but she should know since she went through it too. I walk back upstairs and try to forget, but then I realize the nightmate was coming true. 

I walk in to my room and sit on the and and swallow the coffee in a single gulp. I burn my tongue and hold back a scream. I didn't think it would be so hot. I change into my orientation clothes. The orientation is the day where you begin  to look at the schools you want to attend as you start you group training. You start with private training and when you pass, you go on to group training and train with the other kids you age (really, they base it off of your intellegence level). I change into khakis, a button up navy shirt, some kind of plain grey shoe that reminded me of a slipper, and a white and navy plaid cardigan. I put my hair in a clip, having it half down and half up. I put metallic pearl necklace around my neck and stare in the mirror. It will have to do. I walk out of the room and down to the basement. Its normally where we train, but its a great place to think and sit in a corner and curl up in a ball, my face in my knees. I doze off thinking of the terror and wish I could think in peace, but my brain has another idea and I fall into and snake-filled pit, screaming all the way down. It gets worse.

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