Aspen

Aspen

A Story by Nykolas Andrews

I can't remember my own name anymore.


They tell me that my name is Ella, but it doesn't feel right. I feel like I used to have a different name.


Every time I look in the mirror I don't see who I expect. My eyes are a dark green, and they really pop out against my pale skin. My hair is this sandy brown hair, and it looks so synthetic. I feel like it's not supposed to be there. I think it use to be a different color.


I'm not the only girl he keeps. I've only seen twelve of us, if I counted correctly. 4 of us have the brown hair and green eyes. 4 of us have blond hair and brown eyes. The other 4 have red hair and blue eyes. I don't really see the others much, but we have to pass each other to go to our rooms. I don't know what their faces look like because we all have to wear these masks that covers the face except for the eyes.


He goes by the name Aspen. I don't know if that's his real name, I don't even know if he is a he. I've never seen his face. None of us have, I don't think. Whenever I see him, he's has on a suit and tie and ski mask. I've never even heard his voice, but he leaves us presents sometimes.

When he leaves us gifts, he sometimes gets us to go into this room. It's a completely black room, and when we go in there, we play hide and seek. We have to use our presents to survive. It's only happened twice, and two of the girls died each time. I came close.


The first time, I got a bulletproof vest. I was lucky. He used us as target practice. Half of us got what we needed to survive, while the rest got something that would take an inventor to know what to do with. The ones who survived without of the vest did so because they weren't shot at. The two he killed were both blonds, and he shot me in the chest. Thankfully, I had the vest, and all I was left with was a harsh bruise. And he apologized with a note and an old stuffed bunny. It looked familiar, but I couldn't remember from where. I gave up on trying to be mad because I wasn't going to gain anything from being angry at him.


The second time, I wasn't so lucky.

© 2015 Nykolas Andrews


Author's Note

Nykolas Andrews
I need help to continue this

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Added on August 10, 2015
Last Updated on August 10, 2015

Author

Nykolas Andrews
Nykolas Andrews

Nonya, GA



About
I'm just a (bad) writer. Not much more to me. If there is anything you wanna know, you can ask me. I'll probably answer you. Unless you're an a*****e. more..

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