The Games

[Akamai Deredal]

*ahem* I know I must have a half of half a dozen stories in here, but I love to write, and I tend to forget one and replace it with another. As was the case with this story... I started it sometime last year in 8th grade, and I decided to start rewriting it in a more... "thought out" fashion. It's a future-ish theme, so I'm not sure if I should be in this forum, but it does say "Writer's Workshop," and I wrote! If any of you have any suggestions--criticism is expected--I'll gladly listen to any. As long as it's constructive. I have a thing with people downright telling me my work stinks. It hurts my feelings. lol

Now if someone says "Your work stinks, but try this to make it better...." that's okay! Yea, anywho, I'm going to shut up now and start posting what I've got... Seeing as I'm still rewriting it. >.> <.<

Thanks for your time, and I hope my few readers will enjoy themselves. (And no, the other stories haven't died. They're just on hold till I get some good ideas and someone kicks me in the butt to get me in gear, lol)

[Akamai Deredal]

A light gray sky outlined the many silhouettes of the buildings that took up the horizon. The sun was peering through the cloud curtains of shadow, barely casting any light on the city, instead throwing it into a state of monotonous gloom. Very few people walked the streets, mostly to avoid the rain and cold.
The rain cascaded onto the streets heavily, drenching everything within a matter of minutes. Small streams formed along the curbs, roiling down the streets, past storm drains and trash that obstructed their paths. Ripples on the corners gave the appearance that the asphalt had been returned to liquid.
One young woman trudged silently down the sidewalk, her shoulders hunched and head lowered to keep the rain from her face. The hood of her dark blue sweatshirt was pulled up over her head as added protection, and her hands were stuffed deep into its front pocket. Her rain soaked backpack was full almost to the point of the bursting, and its size seemed to add onto the girl’s weary footsteps.
Glancing up only once when she reached the corner, the young woman crossed the deserted intersection and entered the more rundown portion of the city. Here, the buildings were neglected, the paint chipped and faded, the cement cracked and eroded. Windows were replaced by wooden slats, or boarded hastily shut to keep most of the elements out.
Thunder boomed through the alleyway, echoing off the buildings, and lightning flashed across the sky, giving more light than the sun had throughout the entire day. The young woman grinned slightly and turned down an alleyway.
Overhanging eaves gave protection from the rain at last, and she peeled the drenched hood away from her face, as well as brushing away the stray hairs. The color of her hair was what baffled most off worlders; it was a pure, blinding white.
Nearly everything else about her was considered normal by most humans.
Her body was lean and thin, lanky almost, but the way she moved spoke of hidden strength. Her skin was dark toned, giving the hint of many hours spent in the sun, though it rarely shone there. She had none of the gangly, awkward adolescence most teens her age were seen with.
High cheekbones were the most noticeable feature upon her face, though even they were lightly etched. Her lips were thin and unsmiling most of the time, giving her a cold, indifferent appearance, and her gently arched eyebrows were as white as her shoulder-length hair. Every inch of the young woman’s form gave voice to common, teenage apathy.
Taking a flight of stairs two at a time, she brought herself to the front door of an older building, though it seemed to be in better shape than those around it. Letting out a deep breath, the young woman pressed a series of numbers on the pad beside the door, before sliding an identification card through. A few seconds passed, giving her time enough to put the card back in the pocket of her baggy and torn jeans.
The door let out a low hiss and slid open, allowing her admittance to the house. Stepping into the tile hallway, she pulled off her backpack and threw it down to the floor.
“Sheridan? Is that you?” The voice of an older woman called from another room, where the sound of the television blared in the background, as well as the shouting of two younger children, who seemed quite caught up in an intense argument over some toy.
“Yeah mom! Is dinner still warm?”
“It’s in the microwave! Would both of you be quiet? No! I‘ve had enough! Give that to me right now! Don‘t you argue with me! Give that to me and stop fighting with your sister…”
Sheridan rolled her eyes and muttered a “thank you,” ignored the shouting and turned the corner. Their kitchen was a small, ratty section of the house. Its walls were cracked and chipped, much like the few dishes they had laying around. The countertops were fairly sanitary--not clean enough to eat off of, but they served their purpose.
With a disapproving grunt, Sheridan decided to tidy up before eating. Grabbing a clean dishtowel and throwing it in a wad towards the sink, she wandered around the kitchen, gathering used plates, glasses and silverware. When she finished, she carefully laid them all in the sink and turned on the hot water faucet.
“What are you doing in there?”
“The dishes. Have T’nisha and Mihkayle eaten yet?”
“No. Feed them too while you’re up, all right?” Her mother’s voice was drowned out as the volume on the television rose, making Sheridan sigh.
“Yes, mother…” She muttered under her breath, turning off the faucet and reaching into the luke-warm, soapy water.
“And don’t run up the hot water bill, or we’ll lose water again. I haven’t got enough money to pay the bills yet.”
More nagging. Rolling her eyes for the hundredth time that day, Sheridan went back to cleaning the dishes, to find her younger brother standing beside her, a dry towel in his hand, ready to take the plate from her. Smiling, she handed it to him and moved onto the next.
She watched, half amused, as he finished drying it and handed it to her younger sister, who slowly stacked them up in twos and threes and began putting them away. In a few minutes, the filthy water was draining, and the washrags and towels were hung to dry.
Striding across the scuffed and worn tiles, Sheridan reached over her brother’s head and pulled their dinner from the microwave, still steaming, which was a rarity in the house. Two freshly cleaned plates had suddenly appeared on the table, and Sheridan smirked. She carefully gave them each an even amount of food--such things were dished out sparingly; she never knew when her mother would have enough money to buy more groceries.
“Mihkayle, pour your sister and yourself some juice, all right? I have homework to do.” Sheridan said, immediately obeyed by her brother.
“And T’nisha get a fork and knife for each of you. Careful, they’re sharp.”
Both her siblings leapt silently from the table, the slapping of their bare feet being the only sound other than the television. Stepping back out into the main hallway, Sheridan grabbed her backpack and hoisted it from the floor, half-dragging it back into the kitchen, only to drop it on the floor beside her chair.
“What was that noise?” Their mother shouted, sounding annoyed after being drawn away from her show.
“Nothing mom.” Sheridan chorused, her voice monotone and emotionless.

[Akamai Deredal]

Pulling out a notebook and binder from her backpack, Sheridan slid it onto the scratched tabletop, along with a pen and hologram pad. Headphones in hand, she connected them to the pad and slid them over her ears. A moment passed where the outside sounds were merely muffled, but almost instantly they were overrun by a female voice. Tuning out everything else came easily to Sheridan as the woman droned on, speaking about wars and treaties long since ancient history.
School was the only thing Sheridan had to keep her going anymore. If she did well, then she could apply for scholarships, and scholarships meant her mother didn’t have to pay her way through college. No tuition to pay, meant more food on the table for her brother and sister. It was motivation enough.
Her eyes wandered around the room, falling on the table, where she ran her gaze over the grain, studying the areas where the finish had been worn away from the wood. It was much the same way with the floor; in some places, the blue tile had been worn down to gray patches here and there, wherever feet traveled most often.
Finally, Sheridan’s eyes landed on her brother and sister; Mihkayle and T’nisha. Neither of them looked much like her, save for their dark skin, which all three inherited from their mother. Mihkayle, the oldest of the two, had beautiful sapphire eyes, and hair the color of golden wheat. He, much like both his sisters, was considered scrawny, even though he was well built. Even for their horrific diet, all three somehow managed to keep healthy.
T’nisha had darker, smoother skin than both her siblings, completely unmarred, unlike Mihkayle, who was covered in scars from his klutzy childhood, and Sheridan, who had gone under the needle more than twice. Her eyes were a light caramel color, almost as golden as her brother’s hair, whereas her own was a deep chocolate brown.
Both girls looked like their mother, in the sense that they were fair of face and limb, but their brother was said to look like their father, whom they had never seen the likes of, except in pictures. And pictures just weren’t the same as memories.
Sheridan had never figured out where she got her hair, or her eyes though. Her mother was dark eyed and haired, whereas their father was supposedly given light hair and eyes. Sheridan’s looks exceeded all possibilities. White hair, and light lavender eyes was not a combination one normally sees on any human for that matter.
Maybe it had been the fact that she had been born off planet, while Mihkayle and T’nisha had been born back on Earth. No one had ever bothered to figure it out.
A slight tugging on her sleeve brought Sheridan out of her momentary trance. Turning to look at whoever stood beside her, she removed her headphones and laid them on the table. Mihkayle looked at her questioningly before actually saying anything.
“Is there any more left?” He asked, his slowly deepening voice hesitant and gentle.
Sheridan smiled at the fourteen-year-old and nodded. Rising from the table, she ruffled his hair playfully, getting him to smile, before she fetched the last of their meal. Splitting her portion into halves, she divided it between her siblings and emptied the plate, dropping it carefully into the sink.
Quite “thank you’s” were mumbled past mouthfuls of food as the two dug ravenously into the remainder of their dinner. It was heartbreaking for Sheridan to see the two of them so hungry.
“Did mom not feed you two at all today?” She asked, wrapping the cord to her headphones around the text module and leaning over to place it back in her back.
“No. Mihkayle and I were fighting again today, so momma said we had to go to our rooms without lunch.” T’nisha said, her shrill, girlish voice full of an innocence that made Sheridan’s stomach cringe.
“What about breakfast?”
“We woke up late, so we didn’t get any.” Mihkayle answered, still half-swallowing a large piece of meat.
Leaving her things on the table, Sheridan rose quietly from the table, excusing herself out of pure habit, and headed for the hallway. “When you two are done, clean those plates and go get ready for bed. I’ll tuck you in, T’nisha, or Mihkayle will do it for me, won’t you?”
The young man nodded, obviously more than happy to help out around the house. They watched as their sister went straight for the living room, towards their mother. Suddenly, they wanted to be as far away from the two of them as possible and shoveled the rest of their food into their mouths, put their plates in the sink and nearly ran down the next hall to their rooms.
The living room was in even more disrepair than the kitchen, making it the most neglected room in the entire house. It was their mother’s space.
Sheridan turned the doorknob and shoved the door open, slamming it violently against the wall. Her mother jumped half out of the chair, but stopped when she saw Sheridan. The woman was portly, her dark hair unkempt and pulled back into a ponytail. Shrewd, beady eyes stared at Sheridan unblinkingly, a small fire dancing in the depths. It was nothing to rival the flames in Sheridan’s eyes.
Silence reigned over the room for a moment, and only a moment, before everything exploded into a chaotic scene of screaming and cursing.
“You didn’t feed them?!” Sheridan growled, advancing wolfishly on her mother as the woman sunk back into the tattered arm chair.
“They weren’t behaving!”
“That doesn’t mean to starve them to death! What kind of mother are you?”
“Don’t tell me what to do, you little brat!”
Sheridan caught the remote as it hurled towards her head. Glaring at the woman, she shut off the television and dropped the remote on the couch. “I may be a brat, mom, but at least I can take care of Mihkayle and T’nisha, and they aren’t even my kids.”
Caerlaia, Sheridan’s mother, rose from the chair, her round face bright red with anger and embarrassment. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Sheridan. I give you a home, and food. That’s more than what your father ever did for you, and more than what you’ll ever be able to do for yourself.” She spoke slowly, her fury rising with every syllable.
Sheridan’s dark face flushed momentarily, and she clenched her fists, as well as her teeth. “The only reason we still have a house is because Mihkayle and I both work at night. Not you. And don’t even think of bringing dad into this. He never was here, and he should never be used as an excuse.”
Though the yelling had stopped, the tension in the air, and their voices, slowly grew as the minutes passed by, until eventually it was broken.
A loud slapping noise could be heard all the way down the hall as Caerlaia screamed at Sheridan to be quiet. Sheridan’s head was turned to the side, and her mother stood before her, hand raised and a look of complete shock on her face. No one moved for a while, the two of them just stood there, frozen.
Slowly, Sheridan shifted her downcast gaze onto her mother, who quickly stumbled backward away from her. “Sheridan, honey, I’m sorry. I don’t know…” The woman trailed off and ceased in her attempt to approach her daughter, as the young woman simply stared at her, her once lavender eyes now a frighteningly empty white.
“Don’t touch me.” Sheridan whispered. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes for a moment, before releasing it shakily and unclenching her fists. Without saying another word, the young woman turned and left the room and headed down the hall to her bedroom.
~~~

[Akamai Deredal]

Staring into the mirror, Sheridan watched as the lavender in her eyes slowly returned until they were completely normal again. With a sigh, she stepped away from the mirror and strode across the room to her dresser, pulling out a pair of flannel pants and an old tank top. Changing quickly, she pulled away the covers over her bed, only to stop and spin around as her door opened.
Mihkayle and T’nisha stood in the doorway, shadowed by the light coming from the hallway. Sheridan’s own lights flickered on, making the girl squint until her eyes had adjusted. The two looked at their sister, their eyes sad and worried, and suddenly Sheridan become uncomfortably aware of the heat on her cheek, where her mother had slapped her.
“What do you two want? I’ve got to sleep so I can get up and work… You know that.” She scolded, though there was no heat in her words.
They both nodded silently, but instead walked into her room and shut the door behind them, rather than leaving. Smiling fondly at them both, she climbed into her bed, T’nisha curling up beside her and Mihkayle propped up on her other side. With both her siblings so close, Sheridan pulled the covers up over hers and T’nisha’s head--and Mihkayle’s legs--and closed her eyes.
~~~

[Akamai Deredal]

“Sheri. It’s time to get up. Come on.” Sheridan woke to her brother’s hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her from sleep. Letting out a sigh, she carefully rolled out of bed, avoiding T’nisha, who still lay curled amidst the blankets.
The glowing numbers on Sheridan’s alarm clock told her it was easily two in the morning, and she groaned. “Mom needs to get another job soon. We can’t keep doing this, Mihk.”
“We do what we must to keep from starving. More power to us if we can do it without her help. Oh, by the way, your face is bruising… You might want to cover it up a little in case someone asks at work.”
His sister grunted a response as he shook the excess water from his hair. Sheridan cautiously pulled the covers up to T’nisha’s shoulders and tucked her in, causing the twelve-year-old to stir only slightly. “I wish you two didn’t have to grow up in this hellhole… You deserve a lot better than this.” She murmured, brushing her sister’s hair away from her face gently.
“You had to, and look how well you turned out. Good grades and everything. Though your love-life is nonexistent.”
“Oh shut up, Mihkayle!” She hurled one of her pillows at him as she glared, “I haven’t got time for any social activity. What with school and working. And the only reason I get good grades is so we can all eat, not because I actually, God forbid, like school. Now go get changed.”
Mihkayle ducked out of the room, laughing good-naturedly, though his amusement was short-lived. His startled shout echoed through the small house, causing T’nisha to sit up as if she had been stung, and it sent Sheridan to bolting towards the door.
Coming to a skidding halt, Sheridan took in the entire scene. Two armed men stood at the end of the hallway, both their eyes dark and empty. Between them stood their mother, her arms folded resolutely, and her lips a thin line. Mihkayle stood in the middle of it all, his blue eyes locked on the men ahead of him in terror. Sheridan froze. “Mihk… Come here.” The young woman murmured gently, reaching out for her brother’s arm to pull him back beside her, away from their mother.
“Don’t go near your brother, Sheridan. I’ve had enough of you and your attitude, and I won’t let you drag Mihkayle or T’nisha in with you.” Caerlaia snapped, stopping her daughter in her tracks. “Mihkayle, get your sister out of the room and come over here, right now.”
Throwing his sister a confused and apologetic look, Mihkayle lowered his gaze to the floor and slunk past Sheridan, almost seeming to purposely avoid coming near her. After a few minutes had passed, along with a whispered conversation behind the closed door, the teenage boy led a still drowsy T’nisha out into the hallway.
Looking on in silence, Sheridan watched as the two slipped past her yet again, putting as much space between themselves and her, and towards their mother. Their eyes were downcast, and their faces were void of any emotion whatsoever. To watch them walk away from her stung more than her mother’s slap ever had.
“What’s going on?” Sheridan demanded, though her voice was anything but confident at the moment.
One of the men gave her a smug smile before answering. “You’ve been sold to us, miss Khasek. If you cooperate, things won’t get difficult.”
At those words, T’nisha broke free of her mother’s embrace and ran to her sister’s side, wrapping both arms around Sheridan’s waist. Mihkayle shoved his way through Caerlaia and the guard on the left, running to join T’nisha next to Sheridan, who in turn wrapped one arm around T’nisha’s small form and laid the other upon his shoulder.
“Cooperate? What makes you think I’m going to cooperate with you when you’re going to chain me and drag me away from my home?” Came the furious and defensive, shout that only made the man smile even more.
“Oh you’ll cooperate.” He said, his deep voice sickeningly smooth and persuasive. It gave Sheridan the impression that she would not like the consequences if she did not do as he ordered. But still, her outrage would not allow her to simply agree.
“And what if I don’t go with you?”
The answer came as if the men had been expecting her to ask that very question. Both reached for the guns that hung in their holsters and raised them, taking careful aim. Sheridan’s insides knotted and turned to ice as her eyes lined up the muzzles of the pistols with their targets. Mihkayle and T’nisha.
Reluctantly, Sheridan relinquished her hold on both her siblings, eyeing the men coldly and cautiously. At first neither of them gave any protest, but when she began to pry them away from her and push them back towards their mother, they refused.
“I won’t let them take you away, Sheri.” Mihkayle whispered in his sister’s ear, his solemn voice nearly drowned out by T’nisha’s heartbroken sobs and wails of dissent.
“Don’t let them take her, momma!” T’nisha begged, tears streaming down her face, all sleep wiped from her features.
Caerlaia simply ignored her youngest daughter’s screams and turned away from all of it. She quietly exited the room, showing no concern nor care for any of her children.
“Get back here!” Sheridan screamed, causing her mother to come to a dead stop and turn around.
“Don’t Sheridan… We’ll shoot!” One of the men shouted, his gun still aimed unwaveringly at T’nisha’s frail form.
“Fine, take me! Just leave them alone!” Sheridan shouted, having lost all hope of keeping her already tattered family in one piece. Tears shone in her eyes as well as she began to approach both guards.
“No!” Mihkayle’s voice was filled with fear, but at that moment, all his fear was overpowered by pure rage, and Sheridan could hear it in his voice.
The gunshot sounded only a moment after Mihkayle had barely taken his second step towards Sheridan, and the young man stumbled before he went reeling into the wall. Blood became the only thing that Sheridan could see, and the only thought she could register was that it was her brother’s. Her civilized mind was lost underneath a tidal wave of primal instincts and fear until it was lost completely, drowned by her rage
Without thinking, the young woman reached into her pocket and drew out her ever-present hunting knife. The blade was attached to a leather wrapped handle, giving the knife a “T” shape and making it incredibly easy to hold. Blinded by rage and disbelief, the young woman leapt forward, a feral snarl ripping through her throat as she did so.
At first the men laughed coldly. To them, her knife could be easily stopped by a well placed shot, but what came next caused them to nearly drop their weapons completely.
The young woman’s form suddenly became faded, almost opaque, before she completely disappeared. Sheridan’s heart raced as everything seemed to fall away. Her surroundings faded and swirled around her, throwing her senses off entirely.
The walls pulsated, their tints going from extreme to pallid, along with everything else. Everything seemed to be at a standstill, and everything seemed inhumanly clear to her. She could see her mother and the men standing stock-still, their eyes wide with terror, and she could see Mihkayle hunched over against the wall, his hand clutching his chest and his breathing ragged. T’nisha cowered in the corner, shaking with the sobs that wracked her small body.

[Akamai Deredal]

Sheridan’s anger reached a new high, fueled by the sight of pain and ultimately fear on her siblings’ faces. Lunging forward, she ran at the armed men, her knuckles white from gripping her blade too tightly. She stumbled suddenly as her feet caught on something more solid, and everything returned to normal.
Her target was no longer in facing her, but rather they had their backs turned to her. Astonishment was an emotion that lasted only a minute before it too was consumed by her complete fury and she took the only chance she might have. The blade of her knife slammed against bone, driven by determined hands, and the first guard crumpled to the floor as his blood spilled onto Sheridan’s hands.
Tearing the knife from the base of his skull, Sheridan’s attention shifted to her mother, whose eyes were filled with the horror of seeing her daughter with blood on her hands. Snarling again, she twisted the knife in her grip, the blade gleaming and bloody in the dim hallway.
Lunging at Caerlaia, Sheridan’s eyes faded from lavender to white again, causing the older woman to scream. Finally fear crossed her mother’s pudgy features, and Sheridan sneered maliciously, only scaring her further.
Her triumph was short-lived however, as she was sent sprawling by a well placed blow from the remaining guardsman. Sheridan’s vision when bright white before she sunk to the ground as limply as the man’s companion had. The only difference was that she would wake up. She’d be greeted by a splitting headache, but she’d still wake up. The first guard had no such luck.
“This one’s going to be a lot more trouble than she’s worth,” The remaining man growled, glaring at Caerlaia.
The woman returned the glare and snapped, “Then pay me more.”

[Akamai Deredal]

And that brings the end of chapter 1.

I thought the end seemed kind of forced, even though I've gone back and fixed it previously, to extend a few small paragraphs into at least another half a page.

Tell me what you think about that chapter. I'll post what I have of the second chapter as soon as I get some suggestions.

Thanks again!