Chapter Eight

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Hi guys! Sorry there was such a wait between these two updates. I won NaNoWriMo, but I've been sick so I've had the last three weeks or so off sixth form. Blech. It should have been even more reason to write and update quicker, but nope. I was having some lazy time. Woop. Anyway, I haven't edited too much, because brain overload, so sorry if there are any typos and such.

-Lauren

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Chapter Eight

Location: The City Courthouse

The bright lights that were shining in through the bars of my cell in the Detention Centre were what woke me up; the strip lights that were in the block that I was sleeping in were fluorescent and extremely bright. Blindingly so, right at this moment, when my eyes were still straining for the coal blackness of my closed eyelids and the peace of sleep.

I shifted in my uncomfortable bed and thought to myself, 'Today is the day that my fate is decided for me.' That really woke me up.

That, and the fact that L. E 256, Marx, was rapping on the bars of my cell with his knuckles hard enough to wake the dead.

"Morning, Miss Hayes. Your trial starts in two hours, so we had better be off now; you'll need to change and then meet with Andy before you go into the courtroom itself. Something last minute, he says," Marx said in a faux cheerful voice.

I hate mornings. I hate morning people. Maybe I hate people, too.

"Okay," I grumbled, rolling out of bed to throw on my shoes. It was a cold morning, being late January, and I had no idea whether or not the L. E. O would give me anything else to wear. He unlocked my cell door quietly, but apparently not quietly enough, as the girl who was in Chloe's old cell poked her head through the bars.

"Your trial is today, then?" she asked as though we were old friends. I pressed my lips together and nodded. "Good luck! Maybe we'll see each other on the Island?" She sounded so hopeful. I disliked her immensely.

"You'll probably be assigned different Districts," Marx said in an off-hand manner, but I saw the twinkle in his eyes as he answered her. Taking my elbow, he pulled me through the building, towards the main office which I had only been in when they had checked me into the place, and then bundled me into the back of an L. E. O van; he sat in the back with me. Apparently, case workers could do that.

"So, the girl in Ford's old cell, huh? Bit of a power whore?" he said as soon as the vehicle began to move forwards along the road. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"It's rude to call her a whore," I told him. "And I don't quite understand what your point is."

"She wants your protection on the Island, I would bet you my job." he said in answer. I could see that he was serious about his words, and I recalled what Chloe had said: she wanted this too, that was our original bargain. "Huh," I replied to him, thinking about it. Would people be like this on the Island? I hoped not; it would be a lot easier to tackle people who wanted to murder you than it would be to tackle all of the people who wanted you to look after them.

"So I daresay that Andrew will guide you through anything that will happen today that you really need to know, and then you'll be able to pull that excellent mask on that you showed us bother last night and fool the jury into giving you the sentence that you should be getting." Marx went on to say. I smirked at him when he mentioned that I was pulling on a mask. He had hit the nail squarely on the head: it did feel like pulling on a mask when I was trying to be a helpless little girl who had run out of options.

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