CrianÇa Botas Timberland Prologue

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Prologue:
I pace the small room I'm in furiously. Glowering at the serene photo of a meadow taped to the wall, I rip it down and tear it to shreds. An intern comes in.
"Now Alexandria,Coogi, you know you won't get another window until next week and Dr. Baxter pulled some strings to get you such a nice one." he says, wagging his finger.
"It's not a window! It's a stupid piece of paper, we're miles underground and you know it." I retort.
"I don't know how you came up with that ridiculous idea, Alexandria. We simply don't have windows because you might try to leave. That wouldn't benefit anyone, now would it?" the intern says with a ######## smile. "Now let's go to the cafeteria."
We walk through hallways of sliver,thomas sabo günstig, metallic walls. Past doors that only opened with a password and identification card. Doors that hid lies. By the elevator there was a sign made of smooth metal. It read 'Demitrix Weaponry Testing Facility'. A secret government facility made to test weapons for wars. Oh, people knew about Demetrix, sure. The actual facility wasn't a secret. People just thought the weapons being tested were made of metal and run by computers. They would be wrong.
I stare glumly at my reflection in the elevator doors. Curly blond hair down past my shoulders and piercing black eyes. They aren't just a very dark shade of brown, they're black. I know it creeps the interns out. Yes, my 5'4" body strikes fear into their hearts. I smirk at my reflection and see the intern shift uneasily. I'm practically beaming now. As we ride in the elevator it's deathly quiet. Outside the safety of my cell the intern doesn't mess with me. The safety is his,CrianÇa Botas Timberland, by the way.
My stomach lurches as the elevator stops. We're in a room that looks similar to a cafeteria at a hospital. There are probably fifty kids sitting at the tables. Scientists in white lab coats sit nearby staring intently at the kids. Interns in crisp black shirts and black pants stand by, on babysitting duty. The kid's ages range from 12 to 17. As soon as we step out of the elevator I'm overcome by voices of other people, debating whether or not they should get a second helping or steal someone's dessert. The scientists stare at me, looking for some change in composure. They won't find one, I'm confident in that by now. I hide the onslaught of voices, well. I can read minds but no way am I telling them that.
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