A 15 year old girl runs across my vision, her eyes bright green and her full lips smiling. Her long, blond hair is hanging loosely around her pale face. Its only a matter of seconds before I realize the girl is me, only a year ago.
She runs to greet a pale woman on a bench, and only then do I notice the backdrop. Green trees are plastered everywhere, only few open spaces lie between them. An axe is placed right next to a stump, a fire next to that. The ground is dirt and dirt only. I shudder at the lack of diversity.
All too soon, although I know its coming, deep inside, shadowy figures reach toward me as I pushes my frail mother out of the way, just as they grab me. Yet another shadow takes a gun to her head and pull the trigger. I can barely see the murder through the Shadows fingers, as the freezing things work their way around my face, soon encasing me completely.
The girl awakes again, this time I’m in a white jumpsuit, hands laser-cuffed to my feet, and that to the frosted-glass wall. I’m standing on some white rug, barefoot, but under that there is no doubt some king of trap. I’m alone in this room until one of the glass walls lifts slightly. “Hello,” the male voice pauses, and I see a shadow look down, as if to check a clipboard, “Luka, is it?” As I nod, I catch a glimpse of white teeth from the Shadows mouth. “Just who I wanted to see.”
I am asked questions, about how I got in those woods, who else I saw in them, what time it was when I left for them, all useless, but apparently helpful. But, still, I refuse to reveal myself to the Shadows and their stupid laws.
“I’m afraid,” his voice is as cold and sharp as a frozen piece of glass, “that you need to answer me, Luka. I know you wouldn’t want anything to happen to Dominic.” I turn, startled, at a turning wall. On the other side, there stands a tall, sandy haired boy, barely 17. His tan, bloody chest is bare, but his bottom half is covered with white pants, similar to my jumpsuit. His head hangs, unconscious, but I know that the boy on the wall has piercing, yet sweet, gray eyes, pink, thin lips, and last of all, the biggest nose I’ve ever seen. I feel like screaming, like crying. How could they? To a man so… beautiful?
A moan escapes his lips, and the tears of hate are replaced by tears of joy. Yes, there is still hope. He lifts his head up, and we lock eyes. He looks at me, eyes wide with joy, and tears start falling down his face. “Luka,” he says, his deep, melodic voice ringing in my sensitive ears. “Dominic,” I reply, unsure what else to say. The it hits me. “Dominic, I l-”
The wall turns quickly around, and the last sound I hear is Dominic wailing in pain as the wall slams closed. “Now, shall we continue?”
I wake up screaming, my arms and legs trying desperately to flail. I notice all to late that my wrists and ankles are restrained to the hospital bed I’m in, with tubes leading out of my arms. My mind goes hazy again, and yet again I fall asleep, just as I hear a familiar voice give me hope. “Maybe, we should give her more…” I can’t hear the last word, but all I need is Dominic’s voice and I’m out.

YAY! I'm pleased with the results. Now, I have the next chapter, and I need some charecter ideas. Please let me know! (P.S. I am already introducing Dominic's sister, so, yeah. She trys to kill Luka. xD)

MY eyes open again, and I get a sight full of doctors. What are those shadows doing to me now?! It takes a few minutes before I remember, but these are not shadows. Dominic was with them. Dominic! My eyes flash open, and as if on cue, he walks in, still shirtless, but in different pants. “’Ey, Cat-Eyes.” I manage to chuckle, but it tires me out. “’Ey, Beach-Head.” I smile, although it takes a tremendous effort. I look from doctor to doctor, then to Dominic, staring at the long scars on his masculine chest that I just noticed. They are barely visible. “Dominic?” My voice cracks.
“Where is-” He quickly scans for something to change the subject. “We are in C.O.H.” I am stunned. So stunned, I forget my question. “CO.H.?” He nods. “The rebellion. Call of Hope. You and I are a living legend, you know, for escaping the hold.” I play a small smile, nodding. In unison, we say the chant we would say, code for “never giving up.”
“Eyes keep watch for the door.” It was simple, powerful, and scary at the same time. Dominic goes on to tell me how it became the motto of C.O.H. He promises he’ll take me walking as soon as I gain control of me legs again.

Two nights pass, and finally I can walk. I just have to take my cane/IV with me. Its not until he puts an arm around me that I realize something scary. I rush forward, which is hard on my legs. I turn, block the exit, and stare at Dominic intently. I look a his hand, then back to his eyes. Tears start to create and fall. “What did they do to you?” The first finger on his right is just a robotic attachment. He approaches me slowly. “Luka, listen to me. They did the best they could to save my severed finger, but-”
“THEY SEVERED YOUR FINGER?!” I sink to the ground, the tears pouring freely now. Its just now, when I look down, do I realize that I’m just skin and bones. I jump when I feel Dominic putting his arm around me, and notice that he is crying, too. Great headlines, right here. I can see them now. “Star-Crossed Heroes Ball in Hallway.”
He huddles his strong arms around me and helps me up. I look into the striking gray eyes, now pink and puffy. “We should get some sleep. I’ll show you your room.” He walks me through the hover base, toward a large room marked “HEROES.” He leads me down a hall, and at the very end, our doors face the others. We smile, nod, and go our separate ways, him into his room, me into mine.

THE next half an hour is miserable. I lay, still in my hospital gown, in my bed. The sheets are soft and warm, no doubt heated by machinery, and the silk blanket keeps slipping off my body. Eventually, I have enough.
I step outside, shut my door quietly, and bump into Dominic. He holds my shoulders. “We have to go hunting tomorrow. And training. We need rest.” We sink, in unison, down the wall, his arms wrapped tightly around me. We drift off too sleep.

EARLY the next morning, I am awakened by my pillow, Dominic’s arm, loosening. I smile as my eyes open, and as he is about to escape my grasp, I say almost as loud as I can without waking anyone else, “Where do you thing your going, Beach-Head?” My eyebrows raised in sarcastic questioning. He smiles. “How’d ya sleep, Cat-Eyes?” I nod in approval. “Fine.”
We make our way to the dining hall, in the center of the ship. We enter through the wooden double doors, almost two stories tall. In the lime-green walls, and atop the shaggy, forest green carpet, lies a long, mahogany table, with matching chairs. There are two seats at the head, two at the foot, and about 16 chairs on each side. Another set of double doors lingers behind the head, probably leading to the kitchen.
Almost every seat is filled, so Dominic and I sit at the foot. The Captain, Smithy, and his wife, Caroline, are seated at the head. “Dig in.” Smithy’s voice bellows across the hall, ringing like a bell on the half-empty room. A small metal contraption, only about an inch thick, sits in front of me, and everyone else. I touch the black screen, and it comes to life. It is a holographic menu.
I order pancakes, a luxury we were never aloud to have, but then get a message, clearly stating we are out. So, instead, I get a meager order of mashed potatoes and a biscuit. That is more of what I am used to. I take my holographic menu, or holo-men, and hand it to Carolina, who then places all the menus into the reader slot. Then, out from the ceiling a platform lowers itself, boosters obviously visible on its underside.
When it is almost on the table, it reveals food, sandwiches and all we can afford. The plates spin on the metallic track placed out for them, slow enough to take and not spill but fast enough so everyone sees their food in under a minute. I grab my plate, and hear the satisfying “click” that registers that the plate is successfully off the track.
I gobble down what little food I have on my plate like I won’t live to see the next day, which there might not be. Nobody mentions it, but we are all criminals. This a stolen ship, stolen clothes, stolen dreams. We could be killed at any moment. But we are ready to fight ‘till that moment is upon us.
“You will have to go hunting today.” This voice comes from the left side of the table, next to Smithy. He is the trainer, Mr. Daryl. Dominic and I look at each other. Neither one of us has been hunting before, let alone held a weapon other than a simple laser gun. We exchang sickened looks, then go back to eating.

TRAINING was hard and grueling. Mr. Daryl keeps edging us up the wall, under the wire, to shoot the target, jump the rocks, climb this, dodge that. It is easy for Dominic, but not for me. I have to use effort, but I still manage to make it. When I complain and ask “Well how does this help us?” I immediately shut my mouth because I know what it will protect us from.
The shadows despise the heros, for escaping or killing an important man. Dominic and I had done both. So, they were interested in us. I’m sure they have wanted posters of us everywhere. But we don’t know how to defend ourselves. I learn to keep quiet in Mr. Daryl’s presence.
So we finish training and grab out guns. We step on the loading platform and stand still as it lowers its self onto heavily foliage ground. The site around me is breathtaking. Cliffs, covered in green, are all around, a waterfall on one side, a river streaming from that into the biggest lake I’ve ever seen. Around the edges of the gorge is a lush forest, filled with trees and tons of stuff I have never seen before.
The wind rips at my green shirt and cargo pants, tearing at my skin and whipping my hair in my face. We all look at each other and bound off, me heading toward the waterfall. I walk slowly at first, as not to scare the pray. I scan the land, but then I hear rustling. To loud to be animal. I urn around just as an arrow skins my leg.
I bolt through the trees, perplexing myself to scream, but my voice won’t work, I have a bad connection. Limbs rip at my face, and I can tell blood is spilling slowly. Yet another arrow passes my head, and another shoots. And lands, deep in the back of my ankle.