Raven Feathers

Prologue

Hi. My name is Cadence. And my life is shit right now. Let me get ya caught up.

It was like any other day. I was heading to my studio for work, as usual. I had so many new ideas for more paintings, so many photos to work off.

But I never got there. Never got to start a new project.

They had got me.

They you ask? They as in, those snivelling turds who kidnapped me. The evil people who have me in this white dome. With a white simple bed and sheet, and white tiled floor and padded walls. White lights. All white.

This room was tiny too. Five metres in diameter and what I can assume is 8ft to the highest point of the roof. And I'm stuck here. Alone. Unless one of 'em scientists come in to 'greet' me.

Laying on the cold tiled floor, looking up at the ceiling, I can't help but wonder how long I've been in here exactly. A few days? A week? Can't be longer than that can it? Either way, I'm sure these people had informed my family of something. Right? I can't just vanish like that? Can I? Where am I? Still in Australia? Doubtful. Most of these evil sods have what I think is American accents.

I rolled my eyes.

I never wanted to go to America thanks to all its shit. School shootings. Other...stuff. Hitting my forehead with my palm, I scolded myself for having such a crappy memory. It's been too long in here.

I looked back at the ceiling again, resting my hands on my stomach. Why am I here?

I'm a normal 18 year old from Australia who's a coming artist. A painter! I need to paint! Why won't they let me go? I have so many ideas! This room needs colour!

I sighed, taking deep breaths. I need to remain calm. I can't let them win. No. I won't let them win. I won't let them. I'm gonna get out eventually. And I'll run. I won't ever look back here. I can't. I won't.

A beep came from my left, where the shiny white door of my room, slid open. In came a redhead woman, with a face starting to wrinkle. Her brown eyes held no warmth.

I came to know this woman as the head of science, Mrs Krown. A woman in her late forties I think. Or she hasn't aged well. She's also a mean b.i.t.c.h. She has no heart or soul. In charge of what happens to me.

She frowned at the sight of me on the floor. My raven black hair, splayed out in a halo around my head. I rolled my eyes, and sat up, setting my glasses properly.

"Would it kill you, to not lay of the floor? You don't know what's down there", she scolded me, grabbing me painfully by my upper arm, and dragging me onto my bed.

"Oh, I don't know. How 'bout nothin'?", I retorted sharply, glaring at her as she came to stand in front of me. "This whole damn room is spotless! If there was anything on the floor it must be white! There's nothing else down there", I crossed my arms, still glaring at her.

Her cold brown eyes looked me over, assessing me as if trying to find something. What you ask? Maybe a better attitude.

"I've come to inform you, that you'll now be undergoing a series in injections, girl", she spat the last word. I inwardly shrugged at it. "Then maybe some lessons on how to be a proper lady, would do you some good". I scowled at her.

No way in hell I'm being turned into a 'lady'. I'm a woman.

She appeared to wait for a response other than my scowl. But she got nothing. So she gave me a sarcastic smile, and left the room.

Bitch.

I laid down on my bed, and continued to stare at the ceiling. Whatever's coming, I kinda hope it won't kill me. The anger displayed on my face turned to worry.

What is to come?