Chapter One: The Great Escape

Chapter One: The Great Escape

A Chapter by Lettie

Khaida didn't try to get in trouble. So maybe she talked back to a teacher once or twice, but she wasn't the only one. Yet, it seemed as if she was the only one to be expelled from school. Seventeen times to be exact. Seventeen times and she had only seen sixteen birthdays so far.
It's not like she was properly expelled from all seventeen schools. Sometimes they hinted and said it would be best for her to go on an oasis. Or give her mother a couple pamphlets for military schools in Indonesia or some crap like that. Those were the times when Khaida just asked to leave. She didn't want be where they didn't want her, which if she was being frank with herself and she usually was, she wasn't able to count with her fingers, even on one hand, the places where she was wanted.
To be honest the schools should really blame themselves for all of this. Making Khaida a "at risk' child actually seemed to have made her an at risk child. Things used  to be quiet, normal even, when Khaida wasn't at school. Back when she and her mom were actually happy and liked one another, but then second grade rolled around, one thing led to another, and Khaida ended up with a black eye, while the other girl (a fifth grader who was wider than she was tall) had a bloody nose and two missing teeth. After that, things started to go downhill and by downhill, Khadia meant it passed the downhill by a mile and fell off a cliff where it then proceeded to blow up into a billion pieces.
She sat outside the principles office, waiting for the explosion. Khadia could swear on her life it wasn't her fault this time, whatever it was. She didn't argue with a teacher or punched someone in the face or even kicked a boy in the groin! But as she sat on that bench, she knew her time at Lakeview High was long over before she even entered the worn out building that day.
"Miss. Carstairs?" A too-preppy-voice-that-was-obviously-fake asked. The security knew who Khaida was. It wasn't her first trip to the office, of course it would be her last. She looked up, face emotionless as the blond lady with the hot pink nails smiled sympathetically. "Mr. Hawthorne will see you now."

Khaida didn't reply as she walked slowly to the door. She was no longer bothered by this stuff anymore. She gave up after the third explosion. Everyone gave up on her and she gave up on life.

"Kayden, have a seat please." 

Looking up Khaida realized she was already in the principles office or the dean or whatever the lady in charged here was called, room. Taking her time, Khaida made her way to a stiff ugly maroon arm chair that sat directly in front of the principle's desk and sat down.

"It's Khaida," she replied.


"My name. It's Khaida." She replied slowly. The way people do when they talk to others when mental disorders. "You called me Kayden."

"Yes. Sorry about that. Lots of students. Lots of names," Mrs. Hawthorne replied, refusing to be embarrassed. 

Don't worry. You'll have one less tomorrow. Khaida thought unphased, but said nothing as Mrs. Hawthorne stared at her like a cat does when it's ready to pounce on something.

Mrs. Hawthorne looked more like an owl than anything else. With a long neck, narrow face, and large eyes that never seem to blink, which giant round glasses that she always had on made them look bigger . Plus, she was ancient. Khaida was positive she was rounding in one hundred and eighth birthday this year.

"You must be wondering why I called you in here this morning," Mrs. Hawthorne asked, moving her glasses down to the tip of her pointy nose.


After realizing that she wasn't going to get an answer, Mrs. Hawthorne sighed and bent over, opening a draw in her desk that probably cost far to much. Coming up again, Mrs. Hawthrone produced a mirror in hand. Not a very large one, but it wasn't one of the small compact ones that the snobby, conceited girls carried around with them. 

"Kayley, tell me what you see when you looked into this mirror," the old women asked, holding it facing away from her, so that Khaida could see her own reflection perfectly. 

What the Khaida saw was herself. Her small, frail, too-pale to be healthy, self. A girl with long black hair that laid freely around her round face, as she never bothered to do anything with it. Glassy, light green eyes, traced with a thin line of pencil black eye liner, that made her look more dead than alive. Her nose was too small for her face and so was her mouth, which was in a constant frown. 

Her mother was the only one who ever called her beautiful, back when they still got a long, but that didn't count. It was the mother's job to think that of their daughter. Nobody ever though Khaida was pretty or even cute. She was just that strange girl who sat in the back of the class, who never spoke. The weird one who wore hoodies too big for her and never was seen in any other bottoms besides jeans. The girl who was rumored to have killed a boy at her old school and whatever other s**t they were making up these days, and tomorrow more rumors would start about her absence. Never beautiful. Never pretty. Never cute. Just Khaida. 

"Mrs. Hawthorne! I think your mirror is broken!" She said in mock shock. "I can't see a thing!"

If looks could kill, well Khaida would be six feet under by now. "This is no time for your games, Khailynn! If you care to act like the mature young lady, I know you are deep, deep down, than I can continue to explain this practice." When Khaida bother to say anything, Mrs. Hawthorne continued. "Look at you, do you want to know what I see? I see a confused, intelligent young women who is trying to find her place in this world."

Wrong. I gave up trying, a long time ago.

"Which brings me to my next point.Things for you aren't going so swell at Lakeview. I thought, despite pass records, you would be able to find a home here, but it seems as though Lakeview is not agreeing with you. Due to certain events, I believe, for your future benefit, you should leave here and find where you belong so you can succeed both socially and academically."

Like that will happen. They both knew that Khaida was rather smart. She passed all her test and quizzes with top scores. She just never bother to do the homework or anything that required effort. Like raising her hand in class.

"I tried contacting your mother," Mrs. Hawthorne continued, with a sharper tone. Apparently, she never had a kid so openly ignore her in her own office. "But I cannot seem to get a hold of her."

She was either sleeping or working, Khaida concluded. It's all her mother did and although Khaida felt bad, since her mom was working so much to make sure she got a roof over her head and food, Khaida wasn't the most pleasant daughter. In fact, Khaida was positive she would win hands down if their was a worst daughter of the year award.

"But I am sure she would agree with us, that your heart and mind lies else where and your best interest would be to find this location.

"So do I actually have a choice in the matter, or is this your nice way of saying 'get the hell out of here, you devil spawn of a child'?" Khaida tried to ask innocently, which only made Mrs. Hawthorne turn a foul red and glare as if saying, 'you already know the answer.' Khaida wanted to laugh, but she didn't. Instead she kept her face an emotionless brick wall, like it usually was, and returned the principles glare equally. "Well, that is really too bad Mrs. Hawthorne, because I was really starting to like it here."

"I wish you luck with your life, Miss. Callan," and with that, Mrs. Hawthorne looked back down at her paper as a dismissal for Khaida to leave.

Khaida didn't have to be told twice to leave. She wanted to get out of that school as fast as possible and luckily for her the hallways were empty, as it was third period and everyone was in class, so it was easy for the girl to go and grab her bag out of the locked which she stored it in twenty minutes prior. 

She didn't have to wait to say goodbye to anyone. Khaida didn't bother to get attached to anyone or anywhere. Everything always ended up leaving her life anyways, so she just cut out the middle man and saved herself the pain. 

The sky was dark when she reached the front gates of her now-old school, which wasn't unusual in the pathetic place they called a town, where she and her mother lived only for a short while. 

Thinking of her mother, Khaida received a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her mother was a good women. She worked so hard to make sure Khaida had a good life and in return Khaida was a terrible daughter. Of all things, being who she was with her mom was what she regretted the most. Khaida hated the way her mom looked so sad after they fought. How depressed she was when they had to move again because of something Khaida did or didn't do. But what was probably the hardest for Khaida was that her mom never got mad at her. Never grounded her or even yelled. They were so different, and Khaida hated her mom for not fighting back. 

Khaida shook her head and continued to walk, hands in pockets and iPod blasting in her ears. She hated thinking. It made her depressed and Khaida was much better at pretending that she didn't give a s**t. Caring meant getting hurt, and Khaida didn't want that feeling. She wouldn't feel weak.

Rounding the corner of an alley to take a short cut to home, grabbed roughly and thrown against the brick wall. The song on her iPod shuffled as she fell to the ground feeling dizzy and sick. 

What in the name of hell was going on!?

Her vision was spinning, as she was kicked in stomach by what felt like a large boot. Khaida panicked, and felt like throwing up. She was lost in the blur as the world turn around her, as she reached a hand up to hold her head, because it hurt like hell, she felt warm slimy stuff. Even on the edge of blacking out, Khaida could see the red on her finger tips. She was bleeding. There was blood coming out of her forehead. And she was thrown against the wall by God knows who.

Khaida had never feared death before. But she was terrified as she laid on the hard ground, male voices ringing in her head the smell of blood burning her nose and back of throat. She always heard stories of near death experiences. How the victims life flashed before they eyes, but Khaida didn't see anything of the sort.There was no thinking straight in that kind of situation. Millions of scattered thoughts flew through Khaida's head. From muggers to rapist to serial killer. Khaida now knew what it was vulnerable and she hated everything about it.

She was going to die here. In an alley way. By two men who were swearing at each other. She was going to die exactly what she tried so hard not to be, defenseless and frail.

Maybe it was the smell of blood that made her want to move, or the fact that she wouldn't allow herself to die in this way, but some how Khaida found the way to push herself off the ground. She made it into a sitting position, already tired and wanting to lie background, as her vision slowly restored herself. The dark headed girl wiped the sweat, blood and tears (though she didn't know when she had been crying) off her face the the sleeve of her hoodie, which was thankfully black. 

And then she caught her breath and became aware of the situation around her.

A few feet away two men were arguing, not even paying attention to Khaida. The girl was not a murderer or anything, but she thought she could safely say that not paying attention to the person you tried to kill on the "Not-To-Do List" of killing. The next thing she noticed was what they were wearing. Dark scarlet cloaks-- legit cloaks-- with hoods pulled over their heads and everything. What was this? Harry Potter?

Now, maybe a more logically person would have ran at that moment, but Khaida didn't. Instead she did the most stupid thing possible, which was using the brick wall to help her stand up and steady herself and then running full force at the nearest cloaked man. She managed to knock him to the ground, but once there, Khaida had no idea what to do, since she was kinda new to this whole thing. Sure, she punched people before, but not people who just recently almost killed her. So she did what she knew how to, she punched him in the face before he managed to push her off with his feet.

She rolled on the grounded, and laid a moment in pain. If Khaida was tired before, she now thought possible that she could sleep standing up. Every muscle in her body ached, but from the corner of her eye, she saw both men advance on her, knifes drawn.

Thinking of her feet, was something Khaida was good at. She laid still, until one was close enough, and then she gave the element of surprise by lunging on him and by the priceless look on his face, she knew he was surprised. She threw in a few more punches and kicks, while trying to avoid the knife that tried to piece through her skin.

"What do you want from me!?" She shouted in frustration. 

The guy she was fighting with didn't answer, and Khaida really didn't want to know where the other guy was. She would find out if she felt a knife in her back. 

With every second, Khaida found herself growing weaker, and her punches became less forced. The cloaked man must have sensed it for he had started giving his offense harder than ever. And then something rather odd happen. Just as Khaida thought she was finished, she felt her hands go ice cold, and without thinking she shoved the guy back as hard as she could. 

Khaida watched as he flew back from her, right into the brick wall, and through the brick wall and by through, Khaida meant there was an actual person cut out in the brick wall where he hit. 

She sank to her knees, drained and confused. Khaida didn't even get to catch her breath for a moment as the other cloaked man's head, rolled in front of her, and then his body hit the the ground a few inches to her right with a sickening thump.

Her eyes flew up as she leaped too her feet. There stood a boy, probably not much older than herself, with a face of an angel, that is, if an angel had blood on their face, holding a bloody dagger, which he then proceed to bend down and clean the blood away with the dead man's red clock. His hair was blond, and despite the blood on his face, there was none in his hair which many girls would swoon over. Finally, he looked at Khaida, smirk on face, but she was pretty sure she saw some confusion in his dark blue eyes.

"Aren't you an odd one," he mused lightly, eyes bright. "So much power you just discovered."

Before Khaida could even open her mouth, or even think a question, he continued. "I'm Lok, and your welcome for saving your life. Try not to get in anymore trouble. I really do hate cleaning up other people's messes."

© 2011 Lettie

Author's Note

Is this making a lot of sense? I am hoping to explain a bit more in chapter two.

Khaida is pronounced Kay-da and don't ask me if it's a real name (I think it might be though), cause I really don't know. I just kinda mixed Kida (from Disney's Atlantis: The Lost Empire, cause love that movie) and Kayden, except spelled Khaidyn.

The boy is named Lok, pronounced Lock, cause I love that name :D

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Interesting chapter. Could use some work but other then a few very small things very good.

Posted 12 Years Ago

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Added on May 20, 2011
Last Updated on May 21, 2011



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