So... umm... not used to actually feeling a need for an author note. The first chapter was actually disappointing. It felt so smooth as I wrote it but going back and reading it just felt like it was chunky and wierd. Story of my writing... Anyway's this is the first shot at this story so it can be a little scratchy at first. (right?...) Either way, on with the story.

Chapter 2: The Hell that I Once Left

My head hurt the next morning. I had looked into the task at hand on the laptop at the library. It seemed like I was going to do something I swore I never would.

Go back to school.

The simple thought of it made me want to smash my head against the wall repeatedly until I passed out and wouldn't have to think about it anymore. Don't even try to. It never works and only gives you a massive headache.

If you think your normal, average life was bad. Try being a super freak and fitting in. It may seem easy if you think you'll just juggle around a few extra powers or something but it isn't. I don't have the same emotion basis that you and probably everyone around you does. My head looked for practical solutions and I had extensive paranoia. I had escaped from a lab of mad scientists. I wasn't like Maximum Ride with extra freaking awesome bird wings. The changes they made were more discreet. I had a different method of energy storage than fat and extra air pockets around my lungs that would fill with oxygen whenever I wasn't running or exorcising. On top of that, my digestive track was much slower unless I was lacking something important like water or Vitamin D leaving me to be able to withstand extended periods of time without food. A lot like my lungs, my digestive track had extra pockets of tissue that held water for extended periods of dehydration. Yeah. I was a freak. They had screwed with every part of my existence and my life was screwed because of it. My muscles and stamina and everything else had been tinkered with too. Again, I wasn't at all normal.

Away from freak biology, I was still having one of my "Procrastinate until it doesn't matter anymore," issues with going to freaking school. I had layed down on my wonderous couch and hadn't moved for three hours. When it comes to procrastinating, I am a master. I wasn't ignoring the school factor, simply filling higher priorities like learning Russian... Okay I really didn't want to do it and would give anything not too, but I was low on cash. I didn't use much outside of the necessary which was the only reason I hadn't run out already.

A few days later I decided it was no use procrastinating anymore. If I didn't get to work than whoever had called me would grow impatient and contact someone else. Which would cause tension between me and him and could potentially cause bloodshed between us. Not that I was against bloodshed but I could do without too many enemies.

Did I mention I absolutely HATED school when I went? Even worse than that, she was in sixth grade. Sure it was where I would've been anyway because of my age, but it was middle school. Not quite high school. Before when I was in school, the middle schoolers had bullied me daily and I often came home with nasty battle scars. All of which vanished at the science lab like everything else from my past.

I had a feeling I wouldn't have to worry about being beaten up this time. They wouldn't be able to lay a finger on me without me letting them. It was still annoying though. People seemed to take a while to learn to stay away.

You may be wondering why I have done nothing but sit on my couch. There are two reasons. 1) My couch was practically my bedroom, my living room, my desk, and my dining room in less than ten feet. Mess with my couch, you mess with me. I will kill you if you so much as think about touching my couch. And 2) I wasn't doing nothing. I had copied some websites about the basic sixth grade curriculum into a word document and had been scanning through them as well as filling out registration forms. All of which I was nearly done with.

In fact I was going to school the next day and still had to get all of my supplies. I loved shopping, NOT. All it did for me was make my feet hurt and it did wonders for my paranoia with all of its security cameras and metal detectors and shit like that.

The next day I did three things. 1) Got up early and got ready. 2) Packed as many concealed knives into my inventory as possible and 3) walked to school.

I'm sure that you've been having a similar experience your entire life, or did when you were younger. My life was basically everything after horrible science labs. Anything before didn't seem to count. I could still remember, but it was like they were just video clips. I didn't pull any knowledge out of them much less feelings. So there you have it. How a seriously screwed up little girl ended up in public school.

The school itself was easy enough to find. They tend to be hard to miss. Although as soon as I entered the building, I was immediately lost in an unfamiliar world. There were people everywhere and the noise was tremendous. The exact opposite of the silent woods I was used to. The hall seemed wide enough, until you put people in them. I bumped into several different people simply getting into the building. Every fiber of my being already hated it. People everywhere in a small narrow hallway. Plenty of witnesses that I wouldn't be able to annihilate if I ever needed to.

I had been in school before until fourth grade when I mysteriously vanished and was never seen again. I was familiar with how things worked. The bells, hall passes, classroom dumba**es and a**holes. Rumors and gossip that had constantly gotten under my skin. Although, a different school would mean different things. First thing was my schedule. Before I had seven hour long periods but here I had nine forty-three minute periods starting with History, math, music, art, lunch, English, a free period, health, gym, and science with no homeroom. On top of that I had a locker and backpacks were NOT allowed unless you were injured. There were to be no cellphones, which was normal, no laptops, no electronics of any kind. They would be confiscated and you'd need a parent to get them for you. Since I didn't have a parent (or guardian) I could not risk having my phone confiscated. Even more importantly, I couldn't get into any trouble especially since I was carrying multiple lethal weapons.

The bell rung. One of the things the mad scientists had included was heightened senses. My hearing was better than yours. I could use echolocation and things like that if I concentrated. The bells had worried me. Before they had hurt my ears even without heightened senses. The bells at this school were different though. They didn't ring, they beeped. For once, it didn't hurt. Lucky me.

One of the major downfalls of being a new student was that you didn't know where the HELL anything is. My schedule had my locker number on it which was 325. I couldn't even find that and all the lockers were numbered clearly and you could tell which direction it SHOULD be in, but it wasn't there. In case you're wondering, I am ranting. It was just so frustrating. My eye caught the number 323 at the end of the hallway. It was the last one. I turned around and looked at the other lockers. 328. Where the hell was my freakin locker? On one side of the hallway you had 320, 321, 322, 323, and on the other side it started at 328, 329, 330 and so on. Did these people know that 325 came after 323 and before 328? Were they really that stupid? The only thing at the end of the hallway was a windowless door. I seriously doubted I was supposed to touch it. It was probably the custodians department or something. But then the big red "EXIT" sign got my attention. I wanted to scream with frustration. My fingers curled into a fist and I punched locker 323. The resounding bang hurt my ears but much more importantly an instant pain splintered into two of my fingers and I cursed. I felt them with my other hand and I could feel a hard out of place lump on my ring finger. Little did I know that this was just the beginning of my locker troubles.

I flinched when I heard footsteps behind me. Note to self: Don't get pissed off and punch lockers. It never leads to anything good.

Luckily, it wasn't a teacher that had heard my assault on the locker in the empty hallways, but a student. Me being paranoid started to pretend to fiddle with the combo like I was unlocking it. Technically I could if I wanted too but it would require getting down and listening to it and that definitely didn't look suspicious at all.

How stupid of me to think she wouldn't notice, especially since it was her locker. How the hell was I supposed to know?

"Hey, what are you doing?" she spat at me obviously suspicious. Why wouldn't she be?

"Sorry," I said in my sweetest most innocent voice. "I can't seem to find anything. I'm new here." She gave me a curious glance than held out her hand. After a second I said, "what?" not understanding what she wanted.

"Let me see your schedule. I might be able to help."

I was reluctant. My schedule had my combo on it. I needed to act normal though. I handed it to her. It was a strange feeling getting help from anyone. I had been on my own for what felt like so long that it felt weird just to talk to people without demanding information... and torturing them.

"It's right over here," she said and pushed through the door. Turns out that there was a gap and then another door. Between them were four lockers, 324, 325, 326, and 327. I swore I'd kill whoever designed this building.

"Who the hell puts lockers behind a door that's behind another door?" I spat. I had dropped the sweet and innocent for a brief moment and bit my tongue back regretting my outburst. The girl gave me a strange slightly scared expression. She was still only eleven years old and hell was still a bad word to her. "Sorry," I murmured to her hoping she wouldn't get completely freaked. In all likelihood we'd exchange an awkward moment and move on but my paranoia wouldn't let me just let it go like that.

"It's okay," she said avoiding eye contact. I felt weird that she had that kind of reaction. I had heard much worse out of people's mouths for much less. She had not. I was going to take a while to readjust. That was obvious.

Unsure of what to say I ended up with just, "Thanks for helping me," and proceeded to try to unlock the lock. She watched me carefully swivel the dial right than left and then right again until it clicked.

"You're good at that. Do you use combos a lot?" she asked curious. I hadn't realized that she probably had some trouble with hers. I had unlocked safes and that such before with risks for doing it wrong so the skill had grown on to me quickly. She had probably touched her first combo lock when she entered middle school.

"No," I said, "I just have a thing with locks."

"My name's Elizabeth Kiel," she shot out. She must've been nervous because she flinched when I looked at her. I decided that she was probably trying to make a friend and that I would play along. I could always throw her off if it became a problem.

"Samantha Ser-" I started to say my last name but stopped myself. I had used an alias on the registration and had decided to use one for everything non-work related. I gave her a smile. "Samantha Smith," I told her holding out my hand. That was again, a little weird to her but she could already tell that I was different.

That was the first time someone had asked me to be their friend since I was kidnapped. Surprisingly, I wasn't lonely. Probably should remind you of the whole different kind of emotions kind of thing.

You can tell that some of these things are real issues I have. (Stupid locker almost gave me a boxer's fracture.) Although I have no idea what a normal school is like so I went with what I had read and changed it to what I knew. My school is completely messed up. Either way, this is starting to get more into the action and conflict etc. Leave a review, good or bad. All is welcome. I need to get a better writing style... (Am I the only one who notices I think too fast for my typing? The subject changes way too fast.) Also, there probably isn't going to be as many long paragraphs of her talking to herself or whatever. I hate beginnings just because of that.