Warning: This work has been rated 16+ for mature content.
Anastasia Gray was lost.
The low murmur of men’s voices rumbled on either side of her as she stared at the head of the car, following the swish swish of the wipers with her eyes. Just below her line of vision, the face of a plainly masked man stared out of a television screen. He was speaking, but the sound was turned down too low to hear. Anastasia’s head ached as if something were biting her from the inside.
Heavy hands rested on her knees, one from each of the two men in fine suits and extravagant masks who crowded her from either side. She shifted uncomfortably between them.
“Miss Gray.” The man in the passenger seat at the head of the car watched her, his brow furrowed in deep frustration. He snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. “Your full attention, please, Miss Gray.”
Despite the fog of pain that shrouded her, she forced her focus to the man’s face. He was a handsome man, but the thin white scars that dusted his jawline suggested he was not born that way. It was a stern look, and the dark gold-detailed mask resting over his nose and eyes cast a sinister shadow over his face.
“Miss Gray,” he repeated, snapping his fingers not an inch away from her nose.
Anastasia took a shaking breath and sunk as far back into the hard leather seat as she could manage. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soft and trailed away as the eyes of the men settled on her, probed her. “I don’t know who…”
“You,” growled the man to her left. He flicked his gaze to the man ahead. “She is a waste of our effort.”
The man had turned away and was shuffling through a stack of papers in his lap. “All part of a process, Jensen,” he said. “If we expected any form of stabilization we would not be here.” He turned back, locking his gaze with Anastasia. “Your name is Anastasia Gray. You are twenty years old, a native of the North End of District Three.” He handed her a crisp white envelope sealed with red wax. “Repeat it.”
Anastasia struggled to focus her thoughts through the throbbing behind her eyes. The words wavered in her mind. “My name is Anastasia Gray,” she said slowly, pausing to cringe as her temples flamed. “I’m sorry I can’t…” Her gaze drifted away from the man. Tears welled in her eyes as pain flared across her head.
In a split second the man’s hand connected with the side of her face, knocking her into the lap of the man to her right and shaking a tearful yelp from her throat. He grabbed her by the collar of her dress and dragged her toward him.
“Remember,” he shouted into her face. “You are Anastasia Gray. You’re twenty. You’re from the North End of District Three.” He released her and she dropped back into the seat. “Repeat it.”
“My name is Anastasia Gray,” she said through the tears. “I’m twenty years old. I’m from the North End of District Three.” She sniffled, wrapping her arms around herself. “Please just let me go.”
The man nodded and turned back in his seat. Anastasia sunk into the leather, tears still stinging her eyes. Her gaze drifted past the man to her left, to the car window on his other side. Out of the slow moving car, men and women in magnificent masks and disheveled clothing milled through the street. They crossed before and behind the car without a care for its presence, huddled together against the rain.
“Rats,” the man to her right muttered.
I am Anastasia Gray, she repeated to herself, willing her mind to latch onto the words. I’m twenty. I’m from the North End of District Three… Her thoughts trailed, her gaze drifting to her own reflection in the rain-streaked window. There was a small, pale face staring back at her. She lifted a shaky hand, running her fingertips over the thin bridge of her nose and across the light purple bruise that flowered over her cheekbone. Her fingers drifted into the tangled waves of reddish hair that spilled over her shoulders.
The reflection moved with Anastasia, was Anastasia, yet she couldn’t push away the unfamiliarity that shrouded the picture of this girl in the window. She didn’t know who she was. She didn’t know where she was. The not knowing pulsed in her head.
Her hand fell to her lap, fingertips skirting across the rough painted surface of a mask she had forgotten she held. It was simple, mottled black lacking the extravagant detail of the men’s around her. It was black. Nothing.
The man to her left pulled the mask from her hands. “We don’t need any Wolves sniffing around,” he muttered and pushed the hard mask against Anastasia’s face. He held it there as the other man took the ribbons that hung from the edges of the mask and pulled them tight behind her head.
Anastasia twitched her nose, running a finger along the edge of the mask on her cheek. It molded almost perfectly over the contours of her face, but pressed uncomfortably against the fresh bruise. She reached back to pull at the knot in the ribbon, but the man swatted her hand away and held it under his against her leg. “Leave it,” he growled.
She dropped her gaze and ran a finger of her free hand along the crumpled fabric of her ragged black dress, biting back the tears that welled in her eyes. The sharp edges of the mask cut harder into her skin. Her chest tightened. She did not want to be here.
The car came to a stop on a street narrower and emptier than many they had followed and Anastasia’s heart skipped. Masked men and women clung to the shadows of the buildings, gathered around figure in long coats away from the pelting rain.
“Do you remember?” the man at the head of the car asked. He hooked a finger under her chin and tipped her face toward him. “Hm?”
Anastasia nodded, her pulse quickening.
He leaned in toward her, his eyes locked with hers. Their faces were mere centimeters apart. “You will stay with my nephew, Christopher Dawson, as we arranged.” Flashes of shattered memories, of Anastasia clinging to the steel legs of a hospital bed sobbing ‘please, please don’t kill me’, buzzed through her mind. She couldn’t be sure they were real. “Do not let him turn you away. I pay enough for that shit-hole for the little rat; he’ll do as I say. And if not,” he took the envelope he had given her earlier from where it had fallen on the floor and held it in front of her, “well you know what will happen.”
With a shaking hand, Anastasia took the envelope. “I—I” she murmured, fearful tears welling in her eyes. “I don’t know—”
“Oh am I glad to be rid of this,” the man muttered, pinching his nose between thumb and forefinger. “Take that envelope,” he instructed, leaning past her to point through the window to her left at a redbrick building looming on the other side of the narrow street, “into that building there, and find the door with that number on it.” He jabbed a finger at the dark 028 scrawled onto the front of the envelope. “Go straight there, do not stop, do not go into any other doors, and for the love of god don’t let him turn you away.”
Anastasia nodded shaking as the man to her left threw open the door and stepped out of the car. He reached back and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her into the pouring rain. Without a word he stepped around her, slid back into the car, and slammed the door.
She turned, her heart jumping in her chest as the car began to roll. Instinctively she turned to it, a hand reaching for the door when a flash of her sobbing, ‘please, please’ shot through her mind and she wheeled backward so hard she nearly fell. The engine rumbled, hesitating a moment longer before the shining black vehicle sped away.
Anastasia’s shoulders sagged, her drenched hair stinking to her chin. She was alone, and it did not make her feel any better. The figures in the shadows all had their eyes on her, watching her standing there alone in the street in the rain. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, turning slightly to survey her surroundings.
The building the man had pointed out to her stood where it had a moment ago, seeming to stretch even further into the sky. The entire street was lined with redbrick buildings that loomed into the grey sky as if they might collapse in upon her. It was a cold, industrial place no more a comfort than the hard leather of the shining black car, but she had no other choice.
Anastasia took a deep breath, held the envelope protectively to her chest, and started across the waterlogged street.
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125,013 Literary Works • 672,842 Reviews
Hi Lauren!
I know it’s not your fault at all, but the name instantly reminded me of Fifty Shades of Grey.
I’m finding it a bit difficult to visualise this scene. Mentioning her being lost and then in a car made me think that she was in a traffic jam or something, but then there’s the television screen and the other men in masks, which made me think it was a kind of train, but then there’s passenger seats… Maybe I’m thick, but I can’t quite see it.
This sentence is a bit busy—there’s the slap, the fall, and her noise—and having them so close together blunts the impact. Consider maybe having the slap in its own sentence, so it’s like BAMslapimpact, and then the consequences in another sentence.
Should be sank?
Repetition of ‘black’ and the final ‘nothing’ seems random, but you could keep it like this to show her confusion.
They had ‘followed’ a street? Rather an odd phrase?
‘In long coats away from the pelting rain’ makes it sound like the coats are somehow connected to the rain. Suggest reword?
I think this would be stronger with the bolded bit deleted. It makes it too tell-y; it’s more effective without.
Commas.
Suggest ‘roll away’?
This feels a bit underwhelming. From what’s gone before, it seems that Anastasia’s completely confused and disorientated by what’s happening to her, but this is kind of boring. ‘Feel any better’ is too tame.
This wording implies that she’d expected the building to have moved from a moment ago.
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Hey Lauren!
I likey this. ^_^ It’s a good, solid, intriguing beginning that asks a lot of questions but not so many I have no idea what’s happening. I like the little bit of Anastasia that this chapter shows, and your writing is very good, especially your dialogue, which is real and believable.
One thing could be improved upon, and that’s your description. I mentioned that at the beginning it was hard to visualise the scene, and as this is sci-fi, the setting is going to be really important, and showing more of the world could really make this chapter stronger. It’s already pretty strong, but by showing the world clearly, it’ll make it so much more vivid and unique. So far, there’s rain and tall buildings and masks and a cool car. It’s the masks that are really interesting, and although you mention some of the people outside in the street wearing masks, you don’t describe them in much detail, but that could be invaluable in showing the world. Are they Venetian masks, kind of carnival, with feathers and bright paint? Are they silver, smooth, very sleek and futuristic? Grimy and faded? Wood, plastic, silk or satin or leather, some cool new skin-type fabric?
At present, I’m picturing something a setting a bit like I, Robot—shiny, high-tech, well-organised—but there needs to be more. Most of the chapter takes place inside the car, so describing that would be a good place to start, and also make the opening clearer. You mention leather seats, but what colour? What does the car smell like? Is it shiny and new? Old money, but well cared for? Can Anastasia pick up any clues to the previous passengers, or the owner?
That’s pretty much it, really! It’s a really good opening, and going deep into the setting and showing this new world will really make it awegreat.
-twit
Hey there Lauren!
I'm going to try my best to review this, because I find it really hard to review almost-spotless chapters!
I loved the opening line, and how you didn't clump together all the description but scattered it throughout the chapter. You've made a very hooking beginning, I already want to know more! What happened to Anastasia before? Why does everyone wear masks? I'm already intrigued.
Y'know what? This will just be a comment because I loved it too much. Let me know when you have the next chapter up!
Ooh, exciting. I love the suspense and mystery behind this bit.
Well, there aren't any grammatical errors that I saw. I would put some variation in the length of the sentences because they are all longer than just subject predicate-type sentences. It is not always necessary to add clauses, particularly when you tell us what Anastasia is thinking.
Other than that, you have a nice flow to your writing.
Let's see, you have a great vocabulary in place here, but I feel like some of it is forced, and not at all how you would tell the story orally. Using lots of big words sometimes gets over-done.
But I think that's it... You did a great job balancing between action and sensory detail-something I have yet to master. And the story is already well-planned as far as I can tell.
Great job, and I'll be back!