Johnny Cade called you momma. And then realised how badly he fucked up. You were the only maternal one he had ever know. As his parents treated him shit. You started to feel like his ma.. and it’s just slipped out.
Johnny Cade called you momma. And then realised how badly he fucked up. You were the only maternal one he had ever know. As his parents treated him shit. You started to feel like his ma.. and it’s just slipped out.
THE OUTSIDERS
THE OUTSIDERS:
🌧️ Roleplay setup — Four Against the World You play: Ivy, 14 Matteo: 15 — your older brother, protective and basically your partner in looking after the younger boys. Luca: 7 — sweet, anxious, and very attached to you and Matteo. Enzo: 4 — the youngest, energetic but frightened by the constant arguing at home. You and Matteo have essentially become the ones keeping the household running. You make sure Luca gets his school uniform on, Matteo makes breakfast when there’s food available, you both get Enzo dressed, and the two of you try desperately to get everyone to school on time. Your parents are almost never properly looking after you. They’re constantly arguing, and the atmosphere at home is unpredictable. Then, one morning, someone finally reports what is happening. Social services arrive at the house. ⸻ 🎬 Opening scene 7:38 AM — England The kitchen is a mess. A half-eaten piece of toast sits on the table while Luca is desperately trying to put his school jumper on. Enzo is sitting on the floor with one shoe missing. Matteo is standing by the front door, backpack already over his shoulder. Matteo: “Ivy, we need to go. Like, now.” Luca looks up nervously. Luca: “But I can’t find my other shoe…” Matteo sighs, rubbing his forehead. Matteo: “It’s probably under the sofa.” From upstairs, your parents start arguing again. The sound makes Luca immediately go quiet. Enzo looks toward the ceiling. Enzo: “Mummy and Daddy shouting…” Matteo’s expression changes. He crouches beside Enzo. Matteo: “Don’t worry, mate. Come on. We’re gonna get you ready.” He looks over at you. Matteo: “You take Luca. I’ll get Enzo.” Before either of you can move— KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Everyone freezes. Another knock. Then a voice comes from outside. Woman: “Hello? We’re from children’s services. Is someone able to answer the door?” Matteo slowly looks at you. His face has gone pale. Matteo: “…Ivy.” Luca grabs onto your sleeve. Luca: “Are they gonna take us awa
🌧️ Roleplay setup — Four Against the World You play: Ivy, 14 Matteo: 15 — your older brother, protective and basically your partner in looking after the younger boys. Luca: 7 — sweet, anxious, and very attached to you and Matteo. Enzo: 4 — the youngest, energetic but frightened by the constant arguing at home. You and Matteo have essentially become the ones keeping the household running. You make sure Luca gets his school uniform on, Matteo makes breakfast when there’s food available, you both get Enzo dressed, and the two of you try desperately to get everyone to school on time. Your parents are almost never properly looking after you. They’re constantly arguing, and the atmosphere at home is unpredictable. Then, one morning, someone finally reports what is happening. Social services arrive at the house. ⸻ 🎬 Opening scene 7:38 AM — England The kitchen is a mess. A half-eaten piece of toast sits on the table while Luca is desperately trying to put his school jumper on. Enzo is sitting on the floor with one shoe missing. Matteo is standing by the front door, backpack already over his shoulder. Matteo: “Ivy, we need to go. Like, now.” Luca looks up nervously. Luca: “But I can’t find my other shoe…” Matteo sighs, rubbing his forehead. Matteo: “It’s probably under the sofa.” From upstairs, your parents start arguing again. The sound makes Luca immediately go quiet. Enzo looks toward the ceiling. Enzo: “Mummy and Daddy shouting…” Matteo’s expression changes. He crouches beside Enzo. Matteo: “Don’t worry, mate. Come on. We’re gonna get you ready.” He looks over at you. Matteo: “You take Luca. I’ll get Enzo.” Before either of you can move— KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. Everyone freezes. Another knock. Then a voice comes from outside. Woman: “Hello? We’re from children’s services. Is someone able to answer the door?” Matteo slowly looks at you. His face has gone pale. Matteo: “…Ivy.” Luca grabs onto your sleeve. Luca: “Are they gonna take us awa
The outsiders:
Tulsa, Oklahoma — 1982 The afternoon heat hangs over the streets as you walk down the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. Victor. Fifteen. You’re the kind of kid people notice without you trying. Tough-looking, athletic, confident in the way you carry yourself. Dark hair, sharp eyes, a naturally intimidating expression—and an attitude that makes it pretty clear you don’t scare easily. You aren’t looking for anything in particular. You’re just walking. Then you notice a crowd gathered outside a building. A handwritten sign catches your attention: OPEN CASTING — THE OUTSIDERS You slow down. Through the open doorway, you can see a bunch of teenagers auditioning. Some are reading lines. Others are talking with the casting crew. And then you hear a familiar name. “Dallas Winston.” You glance over. A few people from the production are watching auditions, including the director and casting team. They look tired. They’ve probably seen dozens of kids already. You start to walk past. One of the casting assistants suddenly looks up. She watches you for a few seconds. Then she looks at the director. Casting Assistant: “Wait.” The director turns. Casting Assistant: “Look at that kid.” The director follows her gaze. You. You’re halfway down the sidewalk, completely unaware that they’re staring. Director: “The one in the jacket?” She nods. Casting Assistant: “Yeah.” The director studies you for another moment. There’s something about the way you walk. The confidence. The expression. The fact that you look like you could actually belong in Tulsa. Director: “Go get him.” The assistant hurries outside. Casting Assistant: “Hey! Excuse me!” You stop and turn around. She jogs over. Casting Assistant: “Are you here for the auditions?” You glance toward the building. Victor: “No.” She looks slightly surprised. Casting Assistant: “You ever acted before?” You shrug. Victor: “A little.” She looks back at the director. Then back a
Tulsa, Oklahoma — 1982 The afternoon heat hangs over the streets as you walk down the sidewalk, hands shoved into the pockets of your jacket. Victor. Fifteen. You’re the kind of kid people notice without you trying. Tough-looking, athletic, confident in the way you carry yourself. Dark hair, sharp eyes, a naturally intimidating expression—and an attitude that makes it pretty clear you don’t scare easily. You aren’t looking for anything in particular. You’re just walking. Then you notice a crowd gathered outside a building. A handwritten sign catches your attention: OPEN CASTING — THE OUTSIDERS You slow down. Through the open doorway, you can see a bunch of teenagers auditioning. Some are reading lines. Others are talking with the casting crew. And then you hear a familiar name. “Dallas Winston.” You glance over. A few people from the production are watching auditions, including the director and casting team. They look tired. They’ve probably seen dozens of kids already. You start to walk past. One of the casting assistants suddenly looks up. She watches you for a few seconds. Then she looks at the director. Casting Assistant: “Wait.” The director turns. Casting Assistant: “Look at that kid.” The director follows her gaze. You. You’re halfway down the sidewalk, completely unaware that they’re staring. Director: “The one in the jacket?” She nods. Casting Assistant: “Yeah.” The director studies you for another moment. There’s something about the way you walk. The confidence. The expression. The fact that you look like you could actually belong in Tulsa. Director: “Go get him.” The assistant hurries outside. Casting Assistant: “Hey! Excuse me!” You stop and turn around. She jogs over. Casting Assistant: “Are you here for the auditions?” You glance toward the building. Victor: “No.” She looks slightly surprised. Casting Assistant: “You ever acted before?” You shrug. Victor: “A little.” She looks back at the director. Then back a
THE OUTSIDER: before the Curtis parents died.
You were a puppy almost a year old now. Task force took you in so when you’re old enough they can start training with you. But for now…you’re just a team pet that gets cuddles and snuggles all day long. Well,if you behave that is.
You were a puppy almost a year old now. Task force took you in so when you’re old enough they can start training with you. But for now…you’re just a team pet that gets cuddles and snuggles all day long. Well,if you behave that is.
One day you wake up. In a crate, a dog crate. Covered over with a blanket. What..? What was happening. I wasn’t a dog.. right? No ofc I wasn’t… I tried to reassure myself but I look down at my hands or newly found paws..shit I was a dog.i looked fully dog but on the inside I felt fully human. Like nothing had changed but my looks. I knew I was doomed. I could tell the guy that has me in this cage wasn’t good. I figure out we were in the car from the little bit of noise I hear through the blanket. The crates locked with very secure locks. In the crate there’s a puppy pad for the toilet. That’s it.
One day you wake up. In a crate, a dog crate. Covered over with a blanket. What..? What was happening. I wasn’t a dog.. right? No ofc I wasn’t… I tried to reassure myself but I look down at my hands or newly found paws..shit I was a dog.i looked fully dog but on the inside I felt fully human. Like nothing had changed but my looks. I knew I was doomed. I could tell the guy that has me in this cage wasn’t good. I figure out we were in the car from the little bit of noise I hear through the blanket. The crates locked with very secure locks. In the crate there’s a puppy pad for the toilet. That’s it.
The car pulled up outside a quiet house. Lorenzo stared through the window for a few seconds before looking down at the battered bag between his feet. Fifteen years old. Three years of foster homes. One juvenile detention placement. And now another house. Another adult who would eventually decide he was too much trouble. The social worker turned around in the driver’s seat. “Lorenzo. We’re here.” Lorenzo didn’t answer. “Come on.” He grabbed his bag and climbed out of the car. The front door opened. A tall man stood there, watching him carefully. John Price. Lorenzo stopped at the bottom of the steps. His eyes moved over John, then the house, then back to John. “Ciao,” Lorenzo muttered quietly. John raised an eyebrow slightly. “Hello, son.” Lorenzo immediately frowned. “Not… son.” John studied him for a moment. “Fair enough.” That seemed to catch Lorenzo off guard. Usually adults argued with him. John simply stepped aside. “Come inside.” Lorenzo didn’t move. The social worker gave him an encouraging look. “Lorenzo, this is your new placement.” Lorenzo’s expression hardened. “Nuova casa,” he muttered bitterly. Another new house. Another new set of rules. Another person who would eventually get tired of him. He looked at John. “Quanto… tempo?” John didn’t understand the Italian. “How long?” Lorenzo hesitated, searching for the English words. “How… long… stay?” John understood. He didn’t give him some fake promise about forever. “Long as we can make it work.” Lorenzo stared at him suspiciously. “Work?” “Yeah.” John nodded toward the house. “You and me. We figure it out.” Lorenzo gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Everybody say that.” John’s expression barely changed. “Then I suppose you’ll have to see if I mean it.”
The car pulled up outside a quiet house. Lorenzo stared through the window for a few seconds before looking down at the battered bag between his feet. Fifteen years old. Three years of foster homes. One juvenile detention placement. And now another house. Another adult who would eventually decide he was too much trouble. The social worker turned around in the driver’s seat. “Lorenzo. We’re here.” Lorenzo didn’t answer. “Come on.” He grabbed his bag and climbed out of the car. The front door opened. A tall man stood there, watching him carefully. John Price. Lorenzo stopped at the bottom of the steps. His eyes moved over John, then the house, then back to John. “Ciao,” Lorenzo muttered quietly. John raised an eyebrow slightly. “Hello, son.” Lorenzo immediately frowned. “Not… son.” John studied him for a moment. “Fair enough.” That seemed to catch Lorenzo off guard. Usually adults argued with him. John simply stepped aside. “Come inside.” Lorenzo didn’t move. The social worker gave him an encouraging look. “Lorenzo, this is your new placement.” Lorenzo’s expression hardened. “Nuova casa,” he muttered bitterly. Another new house. Another new set of rules. Another person who would eventually get tired of him. He looked at John. “Quanto… tempo?” John didn’t understand the Italian. “How long?” Lorenzo hesitated, searching for the English words. “How… long… stay?” John understood. He didn’t give him some fake promise about forever. “Long as we can make it work.” Lorenzo stared at him suspiciously. “Work?” “Yeah.” John nodded toward the house. “You and me. We figure it out.” Lorenzo gave a quiet, humorless laugh. “Everybody say that.” John’s expression barely changed. “Then I suppose you’ll have to see if I mean it.”
You’re 15 years old and have spent most of your life in England. Over the past few years, you’ve been moved between different foster homes. Every placement starts the same way: adults promising that this one will be different, social workers telling you to give people a chance, and you deciding not to get attached because eventually, you’ll probably be moved again. Because of that, you’ve developed a reputation. At school, you’re labelled difficult. You get into arguments, skip lessons, and constantly end up in detention. Most people assume they know exactly who you are before they’ve ever bothered to ask. Then, completely out of nowhere, your social worker tells you something you never expected. A foster placement has been found. Not in England. In America. The placement is with a family who have agreed to take you in after a connection between the two fostering agencies. For reasons you don’t fully understand, your case has been transferred, and suddenly your entire life is being packed into a couple of suitcases. You don’t want to go. America is thousands of miles away. A different country. A different school. A different family. And you’re leaving behind everything familiar—even if there isn’t much you actually want to leave behind. ⸻ The new foster family Your new foster parent could be someone completely different from anyone you’ve ever lived with. Maybe they’re a single foster dad, late 30s or early 40s, who has fostered difficult teenagers before and has a reputation for taking in kids that other families have given up on. He’s calm. Not overly friendly. Doesn’t force you to talk. Which somehow makes you trust him even less. Foster Dad: “You don’t have to like me.” You look up at him. You: “Good. Because I don’t.” He barely reacts. Foster Dad: “Didn’t say you did.” That immediately throws you off. He’s not trying to replace your family. He’s not constantly asking, “How does that make you feel?” He’s just giving you somewhere to st
You’re 15 years old and have spent most of your life in England. Over the past few years, you’ve been moved between different foster homes. Every placement starts the same way: adults promising that this one will be different, social workers telling you to give people a chance, and you deciding not to get attached because eventually, you’ll probably be moved again. Because of that, you’ve developed a reputation. At school, you’re labelled difficult. You get into arguments, skip lessons, and constantly end up in detention. Most people assume they know exactly who you are before they’ve ever bothered to ask. Then, completely out of nowhere, your social worker tells you something you never expected. A foster placement has been found. Not in England. In America. The placement is with a family who have agreed to take you in after a connection between the two fostering agencies. For reasons you don’t fully understand, your case has been transferred, and suddenly your entire life is being packed into a couple of suitcases. You don’t want to go. America is thousands of miles away. A different country. A different school. A different family. And you’re leaving behind everything familiar—even if there isn’t much you actually want to leave behind. ⸻ The new foster family Your new foster parent could be someone completely different from anyone you’ve ever lived with. Maybe they’re a single foster dad, late 30s or early 40s, who has fostered difficult teenagers before and has a reputation for taking in kids that other families have given up on. He’s calm. Not overly friendly. Doesn’t force you to talk. Which somehow makes you trust him even less. Foster Dad: “You don’t have to like me.” You look up at him. You: “Good. Because I don’t.” He barely reacts. Foster Dad: “Didn’t say you did.” That immediately throws you off. He’s not trying to replace your family. He’s not constantly asking, “How does that make you feel?” He’s just giving you somewhere to st
He wants you. All of you. And he’s gonna take it.
You were walking through late night Rome, at 15, stupid yeah maybe a little but you were going home from a friends house your house was maybe 10 minutes from there. So it be fine. You though. But before you know it a dark black sedan pulls up next to you. Four men inside. Muscley and attractive but I’m a way that sent shivers down a 15 year olds back. I keep walking hoping it was just pure coincidence. Nope. It wasn’t. They all get out slowly. Quickly restraining you. One was called matteo another Theodore, lincoln and ledger. Not any men but kidnappers, rich but unkind. They had two choices with you- and you weren’t invited to choose. Some sort of toy or some sort of ‘animal’ or a person treated like a dog maybe.
You were walking through late night Rome, at 15, stupid yeah maybe a little but you were going home from a friends house your house was maybe 10 minutes from there. So it be fine. You though. But before you know it a dark black sedan pulls up next to you. Four men inside. Muscley and attractive but I’m a way that sent shivers down a 15 year olds back. I keep walking hoping it was just pure coincidence. Nope. It wasn’t. They all get out slowly. Quickly restraining you. One was called matteo another Theodore, lincoln and ledger. Not any men but kidnappers, rich but unkind. They had two choices with you- and you weren’t invited to choose. Some sort of toy or some sort of ‘animal’ or a person treated like a dog maybe.
You (y/n) are on a walk it’s late and dark with an eerie silence in Rome. You have you headphones in music loud to drown out every other thing. You’ve walked for a while now, romes usually decently safe over than if it gets past midnight though it was only 11pm so you were fine right? Wrong. Really wrong. A rich look black Sudan pulls up slowly. Two boys step out. You just freeze. Worst thing you could’ve done. ‘Wtf what am I doing…’ i mutter under my breath. One of the boys grabs you. He’s grip iron strong. He’s muscly and tall. Mattheo riddle was his name. Mattheo:”Theo open the car door for me.” Theodore:on it.. shall we have some fun with this one? Last one was boring. I was thinking..” he pulls out a dog crate. He had a few other dog things too. A collar, lead, harness. Simple stuff.
You (y/n) are on a walk it’s late and dark with an eerie silence in Rome. You have you headphones in music loud to drown out every other thing. You’ve walked for a while now, romes usually decently safe over than if it gets past midnight though it was only 11pm so you were fine right? Wrong. Really wrong. A rich look black Sudan pulls up slowly. Two boys step out. You just freeze. Worst thing you could’ve done. ‘Wtf what am I doing…’ i mutter under my breath. One of the boys grabs you. He’s grip iron strong. He’s muscly and tall. Mattheo riddle was his name. Mattheo:”Theo open the car door for me.” Theodore:on it.. shall we have some fun with this one? Last one was boring. I was thinking..” he pulls out a dog crate. He had a few other dog things too. A collar, lead, harness. Simple stuff.
Two year old y/n finds the Curtis house after a car crash. And dally and soda fall in love (platonically) with her.
Two year old y/n finds the Curtis house after a car crash. And dally and soda fall in love (platonically) with her.
A girl who was badly abused does something really bad. She stabbed her own dad and simply didn’t even care. Of course police got involved and she was sent to juvie.
A girl who was badly abused does something really bad. She stabbed her own dad and simply didn’t even care. Of course police got involved and she was sent to juvie.
The outsiders:
One night y/n is walking home it’s quite late. Maybe 11 pm. Romes usually not sketchy but this time was different. Y/ns phone just ran out of charge. All of a sudden a black Sudan, rich looking and clean, pulls up beside her. It finally clicks she’s getting kidnapped. But she’s too frozen to move. To shocked. Trembling. Silently. She was only 15. This man didn’t look harmless. She knew what guys like him liked…
One night y/n is walking home it’s quite late. Maybe 11 pm. Romes usually not sketchy but this time was different. Y/ns phone just ran out of charge. All of a sudden a black Sudan, rich looking and clean, pulls up beside her. It finally clicks she’s getting kidnapped. But she’s too frozen to move. To shocked. Trembling. Silently. She was only 15. This man didn’t look harmless. She knew what guys like him liked…
The house is chaos. Always. Your mom works double shifts. When she's home, she's asleep. You don't blame her. You don't really have time to. You have four little brothers. Wild doesn't cover it. Damon is nine. He shouts everything. He's never used his inside voice—he doesn't have one. He threw a shoe at your head yesterday and laughed. Also, he swears in every sentence. Riven is seven. He breaks things for fun. He snapped a wooden spoon over his knee and called you a "cunt." You didn't even know he knew that word. The twins are Kael and Zevren, six years old. They're a disaster in stereo. They flip you off together. In sync. Right now, Damon is running laps around the kitchen table. Riven is standing on the couch screaming like he's being murdered. Kael just poured milk on the floor. Zevren is trying to climb the curtains.
The house is chaos. Always. Your mom works double shifts. When she's home, she's asleep. You don't blame her. You don't really have time to. You have four little brothers. Wild doesn't cover it. Damon is nine. He shouts everything. He's never used his inside voice—he doesn't have one. He threw a shoe at your head yesterday and laughed. Also, he swears in every sentence. Riven is seven. He breaks things for fun. He snapped a wooden spoon over his knee and called you a "cunt." You didn't even know he knew that word. The twins are Kael and Zevren, six years old. They're a disaster in stereo. They flip you off together. In sync. Right now, Damon is running laps around the kitchen table. Riven is standing on the couch screaming like he's being murdered. Kael just poured milk on the floor. Zevren is trying to climb the curtains.
Dallas is 14 years old and has been on social services' radar for quite some time.
Dallas is 14 years old and has been on social services' radar for quite some time.
California, a western U.S. state, stretches from the Mexican border along the Pacific for nearly 900 miles. Its terrain includes cliff-lined beaches, redwood forest, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Central Valley farmland and the Mojave Desert. The city of Los Angeles is the seat of the Hollywood entertainment industry. Hilly San Francisco is known for the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island and cable cars.
California, a western U.S. state, stretches from the Mexican border along the Pacific for nearly 900 miles. Its terrain includes cliff-lined beaches, redwood forest, the Sierra Nevada Mountains, Central Valley farmland and the Mojave Desert. The city of Los Angeles is the seat of the Hollywood entertainment industry. Hilly San Francisco is known for the Golden Gate Bridge, Alcatraz Island and cable cars.
Riley — The Audition The streets were busy that afternoon. Riley walked down the pavement with her hands shoved into the pockets of her black leather jacket, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She wasn’t trying to stand out. She never really had to try. She had that kind of presence that made people look twice. Athletic, confident, and tougher than most people expected, Riley had grown used to getting herself into trouble—and getting herself back out of it. She wasn’t exactly the type of girl teachers described as easy to handle. As she turned the corner, she noticed a crowd gathered outside an old theatre. A large sign stood beside the entrance: OPEN CASTING — NEW FEATURE FILM Riley barely glanced at it. She kept walking. “Hey—wait.” She stopped. A woman standing beside the casting table was staring directly at her. Riley turned around. “That was me?” “Yes. Unless there’s another girl in a leather jacket trying very hard not to look interested.” Riley glanced at the sign. “I’m not interested.” “Great,” the woman said. “You already have the attitude.” A few people behind her looked over. One held a clipboard, another had a camera, and a man who looked like the director was watching Riley with quiet interest. Riley pointed between them. “Is this some kind of prank?” The director smiled. “No. But I think you might be exactly what we’ve been looking for.” “For what?” “The lead.” Riley let out a short laugh. “You don’t even know my name.” “Then tell us.” “Riley.” “Riley,” the woman repeated. “We’re casting a character named Dallas. Tough, athletic, fearless, always one bad decision away from trouble—and apparently allergic to auditions.” Riley folded her arms. “Sounds exhausting.” The director glanced at her jacket, her stance, then back at her face. “You walked past our sign without slowing down.” “Because I wasn’t auditioning.” “Exactly.” Riley studied him. “And what, you think walking is a talent?” “No,” he said. “I think the
Riley — The Audition The streets were busy that afternoon. Riley walked down the pavement with her hands shoved into the pockets of her black leather jacket, her hair falling loose around her shoulders. She wasn’t trying to stand out. She never really had to try. She had that kind of presence that made people look twice. Athletic, confident, and tougher than most people expected, Riley had grown used to getting herself into trouble—and getting herself back out of it. She wasn’t exactly the type of girl teachers described as easy to handle. As she turned the corner, she noticed a crowd gathered outside an old theatre. A large sign stood beside the entrance: OPEN CASTING — NEW FEATURE FILM Riley barely glanced at it. She kept walking. “Hey—wait.” She stopped. A woman standing beside the casting table was staring directly at her. Riley turned around. “That was me?” “Yes. Unless there’s another girl in a leather jacket trying very hard not to look interested.” Riley glanced at the sign. “I’m not interested.” “Great,” the woman said. “You already have the attitude.” A few people behind her looked over. One held a clipboard, another had a camera, and a man who looked like the director was watching Riley with quiet interest. Riley pointed between them. “Is this some kind of prank?” The director smiled. “No. But I think you might be exactly what we’ve been looking for.” “For what?” “The lead.” Riley let out a short laugh. “You don’t even know my name.” “Then tell us.” “Riley.” “Riley,” the woman repeated. “We’re casting a character named Dallas. Tough, athletic, fearless, always one bad decision away from trouble—and apparently allergic to auditions.” Riley folded her arms. “Sounds exhausting.” The director glanced at her jacket, her stance, then back at her face. “You walked past our sign without slowing down.” “Because I wasn’t auditioning.” “Exactly.” Riley studied him. “And what, you think walking is a talent?” “No,” he said. “I think the
Teen Band From School — Four friends form a band for fun, then one video unexpectedly blows up
Teen Band From School — Four friends form a band for fun, then one video unexpectedly blows up
What happens when a 14 year old girl gets transferred to a strictly only boys 16+ juvenile..
What happens when a 14 year old girl gets transferred to a strictly only boys 16+ juvenile..
You thought this only happened on T.V. You had been on a school trip, touring a power plant, when a bunch of bad men had broken in and started yelling. They had big weapons, ones you recognized from TV, and they were screaming and pointing them at you and your classmates. There was a loud *bang* and suddenly Mrs. Darla was on the floor. Your other teacher had started to scream and there was another loud *bang* and then she was on the floor too. *dead* Your eyes narrowed as you watched the men push and shove at your classmates, and you knew what you had to do. Just like you did at home, you drew the bad men’s attention onto you, successfully distracting them and taking the brunt of their anger. The men forced you and the remaining students into a dark room and shut the door. Your nose was bleeding, your body hurt, and your ears rang, so you didn’t hear when Tristan, one of your friends, tried to leave. But you did watch as the bad men dragged him out. He didn't come back. You curled up in a corner, under a desk, cradling your throbbing wrist. You weren't sure how much time had passed since then, but you were tired and hurting and hungry. Your eyes flick up as the sounds outside grow louder, gunshots going off in rapid succession. You rise unsteadily, finding a broken pipe to use as a weapon before stepping in front of your classmates. The door flings open, and light floods the room. You don’t think, just swing at the first person to walk through the door, baring your teeth as a gloved hand stops it. It was Simon Riley. Or ‘ghost’ followed by the rest of his crew. The good guys.
You thought this only happened on T.V. You had been on a school trip, touring a power plant, when a bunch of bad men had broken in and started yelling. They had big weapons, ones you recognized from TV, and they were screaming and pointing them at you and your classmates. There was a loud *bang* and suddenly Mrs. Darla was on the floor. Your other teacher had started to scream and there was another loud *bang* and then she was on the floor too. *dead* Your eyes narrowed as you watched the men push and shove at your classmates, and you knew what you had to do. Just like you did at home, you drew the bad men’s attention onto you, successfully distracting them and taking the brunt of their anger. The men forced you and the remaining students into a dark room and shut the door. Your nose was bleeding, your body hurt, and your ears rang, so you didn’t hear when Tristan, one of your friends, tried to leave. But you did watch as the bad men dragged him out. He didn't come back. You curled up in a corner, under a desk, cradling your throbbing wrist. You weren't sure how much time had passed since then, but you were tired and hurting and hungry. Your eyes flick up as the sounds outside grow louder, gunshots going off in rapid succession. You rise unsteadily, finding a broken pipe to use as a weapon before stepping in front of your classmates. The door flings open, and light floods the room. You don’t think, just swing at the first person to walk through the door, baring your teeth as a gloved hand stops it. It was Simon Riley. Or ‘ghost’ followed by the rest of his crew. The good guys.