Purple (Cole Stewert x Oc)

Chapter 1

This story is written from computer to phone, so it will have different paragraph styles.

Elizabeth's P.O.V

Now nineteen- I have grown used to my new prison. The hateful glares are just people staring and threats are just words. I've lost the fear of standing up for myself and others- I do it freely without a care in the world. Of course, it has it's consequences- but it's  nothing I can't handle. This is my way of life.. Actually, no. This is every kid's life. Life throws problems in their face, sudden and unexpected. Like a bomb. Time is ticking, and when there is no more time left, it explodes, leaving a messy aftermath that we're expected to clean up.

I'm almost proud of how long I've survived with all the danger surrounding me. Nine years. It's impressive in a way, but it's also sad. Impressive- well, let's face it. Who wouldn't be proud of their achievements? I freed a camp, I stood up for someone, and somehow, I'm still alive. It's motivating, really- but when I think of the negative side, let all my demons drown me in a sea of reminders of how many missed opportunities I have, how many failed goals and how many hopeful kids who died  in front of me, it slowly eats away at my confidence, my pride, and my soul. I'm the type of kid who hides behind her smile, her broken heart disguised as one that's whole. 

I don't even know where I am, to be honest. The PSFs took me here while I was asleep, and they locked me in a room with no windows and barely enough space for me to stretch. I've never left this room since I arrived. I'm able to remember every detail  about this cage, every crack, every bump and streak of dirt. I don't know what their goal was when they brought me here- maybe it was to drive me insane, just so they could see me on my knees begging to get out. Or maybe it was to contain me so I couldn't hurt anyone that deserves to be injured. But I honestly don't care. I'm alive, aren't I? I can still speak, can't I? 

There was one door across the side of my bed, and that was the exit that seemed to be always locked. There was a slither of light that peaked through the hinges, but it wasn't big enough for me to see anything so I could use my powers. Three times a day, a PSF would deliver my food, and watch me eat. I was distrustful, I get that, but that doesn't exactly mean that you have to watch me chew and swallow. It was getting creepy. I remember yelling at a PSF to let me eat in peace, which only earned a slap across the face with the nozzle of a gun. For some reason, they started holding the gun to my head as I ate, like I was going to use the spoon or something to attack them.

What's a spoon going to do? Nothing. If I could use the spoon to attack, I would've done it by now. I got used to this routine. I thought it would never change. 

I was in my room, bored as I'll ever be, a feeling that wasn't new. I was sprawled out across my bed, counting each lump of the gravel ceiling. It was quiet. I couldn't hear and PSF's debating who would feed me and I couldn't hear the heavy marching that thundered off the floor outside. Suddenly, my door swung open with a bang. Finally, I was hungry- they took extra long to deliver my food today.

I flung my legs over the side of the bed, the momentum forcing me into a sitting position. I locked eyes with the food, which barely even looked like food, and let my powers take control. The woman delivering it shrieked as the tray flew out of her hands and landed gracefully on to my lap.

"Brat" she mumbled. She strode over to me and pulled out her gun, driving  it into my temple. I didn't dare give her the look I wanted to give her as she kicked my leg with her boot, making the packaged food stacked on to the tray shake. I ignored her, and ripped the lid off one of the containers, only to be welcomed with the smell of mashed potatoes that were over-seasoned and made horribly. The didn't even try today. I forced myself not to wince as I shoved a spoonful into my mouth, the taste overpowering and the texture almost liquid. I swallowed reluctantly after fighting with my instinct to spit it out.

Five whole minutes. That's how long it took for me to get half way. I squeezed the plastic spoon to distract myself from the taste. Suddenly, the gun was pulled away from my head, and a surge of surprise charged through me. That was new. I continued to eat as my guard pulled out a chatter and used it, her eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

I noticed it was becoming unbearably hot in the room. I had a feeling I knew what something hot would be, but I've been locked away for to long to remember. The PSF woman swore loudly as she looked up towards the door, something was wrong. Barely a second passed by until I realised why she was backed up against the wall.

Fire.

It makes so much sense. But where did it come from? I wasn't even bothering to protect myself as I just sat there, amazed as the heat intesified and size grew. It was only when an ember brushed my skin, causing a searing pain to shoot up my arm I was snapped out of my trance. I held my arms up and concentrated. I felt no more pain when I used my powers, I practiced on everything I could find. I was a special type of Blue. While normal Blues could only lift and move objects, I could lift and move everything. But these damn oh-so-amazing PSFs kept me so damn skinny that I can barely lift my bed, which was cheaply made of planks and old clothes.

I fought against the heat that tried to weaken me, and did my best to shield myself from the fire. That woman- she was done for. But wouldn't that mean that so were the other PSFs? I sucked in what air I could find a shakily stood up. I thrust one of my hands in front of me, dividing the flames to make a reasonable walkway. I gasped.

I was right. Every bad guy in this nightmare died. But I noticed one unfamiliar face, gun in hand, wearing a different uniform, and breathing. Something bloomed within me. I hurried over and grabbed the back of his shirt, and dragged him along.

Why did I trust him? What was wrong with me?