Freed

Chapter 1: Doodles & Explinations

White looks down at the gun sitting on her hand then back up at Mr. Andrews. "Fuel to anger you, to give you enough hate to do something so cruel."

"What exactly are we going to do?"

A pregnant silence.

"I'm giving you the honors to kill my father."

White couldn't help but smile widely, hugging Mr. Andrews tight.

"Really!" She squeals.

There was a time in her life when she wanted to kill the man she was hugging right now, but those thoughts were now gone. There was also a time when she wanted to kill the man's son and daughter, but that was all gone. Now, she wanted to kill the man's father. The leader of it all.

He nods, his smile vanishing.

"We depart next week, you need time to rest, plan and train. My father has a lot of tricks up his sleeves."

A chorus of nods breaks in the room, Dimitry and Diamond exchainging glances with each other.

"What about Dimitry? How will he help with a busted arm?" She pauses for a moment, scanning her brother. "Wait, no. A busted shooting arm, he uses that arm to shoot you know." She points out blandly.

Mr. Andrews rolls his eyes. "He should think of something useful to do by then . . . like I dunno, healing faster." With one last irritated look at his children, he excused himself, walking out of the room and closing the door lightly behind him.

White looks down at the palm of her hand. Analizing the black gun, feeling it's texture, wondering how was she going to use it. She'd stolen a few guns back in the First Compound, but this one felt different. It has a purpose, one purpose only and that's to kill one person, one certain person only.

Her eyes dart from the gun to Ice, then Diamond, to Angel and lastly on Dimitry, Adam still in the bathroom. 

"So, who's going to play as captain?" She asks them, smiling nervously.

No answer.

Diamond chortles a laugh. "You of course, silly!"

"Me?" White laughs nervously. "I'd rather volunteer you Diamond,"

She rolls her eyes at White, scoffing. "Dad gave you the gun, he gave you the honors to kill granpa. I see it fit that you shoul lead." She glances at the others, waiting for their approval.

They all exchange glances before murmuring a few yes and bobbing their heads up and down.

"So it's settled!" Diamond exclaims, clasping her hands together. "Now all we need is a plan."

Ugh, plans. They never go well anyways. White thinks, avoiding the black haired girl's gaze.

Dimitry props himself up with his one good arm, looking around, smiling. He reaches down from under his bed, pulling out a notebook and pen. All eyes follow his movements, wondering what he was to do with them.

He starts to scribble on the paper, his hand strokes rough and jagged, creating straight, crisscrossing lines.

Diamond inches closer, trying to take peeks of what her brother was sketching. He shuffles awkwardly to make sure no one catches a single glimpse of his mess of a sketch.

After a few more minutes of pondering on what to add and adding those ideas, he finally finishes. Dimitry was no artist, his sketches were not the best and he knew that. But one thing he was good at was planning raids and the like.

He shows them his sketch, smiling, dimples showing at the corners of his lips. 

 The notebook shows a familiar sketch of a building. White was shocked that his sketch was better than hers back when she and Ice were planning to escape the Compound a month ago. It was a flat sketch of the First Compound. Ice wonders how Dimitry knew how big and how many doors it held, but he knew that there was a better time to question the blonde about that.