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They called me FIVE

**READ ME** THIS BOOK WILL BE UNDER REVISION. ******* My name? Lance Augustus Age? 15 Nickname? Five. Why they call me that? Because the mark tells us so. _________________________________ "Don't be stupid, steer out of trouble, and whatever happens, stay alive."  I really don't know why Dad always repeat those words to me everyday. I take heed of his words. Play by his rules, never dared to go against him except if it's extremely necessary. He's all that I need to get by. Our life was ordinary. Everything was perfectly fine, perfectly normal, just an everyday routine we get used to live. But then this guy calling himself 'The Seeker' came... And he start making a mess out of my life.  He said I have powers. - Who believe that crap? He said I have extraordinary abilities. - Cool! I want to be Superman. He said I was chosen. - Who? The god of newbie bullies? The mark of five imprinted deep into my skin proves that I am one of the TWELVE. - You sure it's not a tattoo? I firmly believe it's a tattoo. I never believe him. I drove him out. I did not listen. I wish I did. Maybe he could have help me. Maybe he could have save me from the trouble of falling right into their trap. I know nothing. Because of my stubbornness I lost everything. So now I'm all alone. But she stretch her hand to me. She gave me hope. She invited me to come. And I did. So our search began. For the remaining TEN. ___________________________________

phoenixhyperion · perkotaan
Peringkat tidak cukup
243 Chs

Seven's warmth

LANCE

At the next morning, I wake up before Sam, Seven and Magnus. After I hurt my ears from Magnus's shrilling kid's voice I have troibl sleeping the night before.

But the cold atmosphere in this place makes me shiver in odd places. Next thing I know, I'm sleeping.

The sun can't penetrate through the walls. I wake up to the voices of neighbors, especially grade school kids running around their yard. Screaming insults to their playmates. I heard women's voices greeting good morning to their neighbors, the smell of bacon being fried in the morning.

The sound of cars pulled out of their garage.

It was strange. Last night I remember we are in dark alleyways. Squeezing ourselves to smelly and trashy dumpsters and suspicious establishment.

But the sounds I'm hearing outside make it seem we're in the middle of peaceful neighborhood. I squirm in the sofa I slept in, flipping the blanket I draped around myself.

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