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CHAPTER ONE:

THE GIRL WHO CHEATED DEATH.

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CRIMINAL. That was the first word that came to mind when used to describe Haven Grey Smith, and the pitiful excuse for why she spent the last five years of her life incarcerated behind the walls of a prison cell. She was left to rot with nothing other than the resounding hum of her thoughts, a steel-plated bedframe, and a forthcoming death sentence— one that was arranged for the day she turned twenty years old.

Growing up on the Ark, otherwise known as the single satellite that orbited throughout the boundless lengths of space, Haven never had much to live for. The fifteen years of 'freedom' she was given prior to her inprisonment were nothing but a sham; a concept of blissful facade. You would think the survivors of a nuclear war that raged ninety-seven years ago would be more conscious about the weight of their decisions, but merely even contemplating that thought would be an overstatement. Oblivion rooted itself in the minds of the Ark's people like a merciless weed. With this, there came two options: allow the tares to consume you as you're absorbed into compliance, or learn to weave yourself through the loops and tangles. She considered herself one of the lucky ones.

Though the day she would take her final breath of withering oxygen was less than twenty-four hours away, Haven found herself succumbing to an even deeper state of jadedness. Most people were floated on the day they turned eighteen, but she, on the otherhand, had managed to circumvent the system.

With the assistance of former guard Bellamy Blake, and the expertise of the Ark's Council member, Dr. Abigail Griffin, the duo had managed to wipe the data stored within Haven's citizen profile. Her death sentence was disregarded and instead set to two more years in the future, consequently. On the opposite side of the cell door that separated the pair, Haven remembered the mellifluous sound of Bellamy's laughter when he told her about the tech crew's bewilderment once they found out the data had disappeared. It was one of the only sentiments of comfort she had left.

Haven was never informed of the reason behind the duo's actions. Maybe the team in Medical wanted to keep her as a science experiment to poke and prod. Quite frankly, she believed the whole scenario was a ridiculously blinding suicide mission. Treason wasn't an action taken lightly. Though somewhere, hidden deep beneath the layers of doubt that resided within her, Haven trusted them; naively, yet voluntarily.

But, alas— those two years had come to a screeching halt. Execution day. Having the air ripped from her lungs and being sucked smack dab into the void of space wasn't the way Haven predicted her life would end, but she wasn't even the slightest bit alarmed. Fortunately for her, she wasn't one to fear death. Hell, she'd glared straight into the darkness of its sinister eyes more times than most could say.

Technically speaking, Haven had died on multiple occasions. Having the same lung capacity as an elder at nineteen and living solely off of recirculated oxygen wasn't the ideal situation for somebody with aortic stenosis. In short– her heart fucking sucked.

        With a total of three emergency heart surgeries and the grand finale of two successful resuscitations notched into her belt, she was quite proud of her ability to survive. Resilience was inked within her blood. Across her fellow prisoners in the Sky Box, she was known as the girl who cheated death. Not only once—twice. Dr. Griffin referred to it as a miracle, but Haven thought otherwise. Miracles hold no power in a place like this. You're born to die the second your heart starts beating, some just fall faster than others.

        Haven released a hot breath of air as she laid atop her mattress, still cloaked in the uniform she was forced to wear on Wednesdays. She returned from a grueling day of labor on Factory Station alongside her fellow inmates less than an hour ago. The tension strung within her bones was enough to make her collapse, which was expected on a day like today.

Genuine exhaustion and a nullified longing for rest washed over her body in waves, each tide beckoning her closer and closer to what felt like an endless sleep. Their efforts were relentless. But, she refused. She knew better than to fall victim to them.

        Sleep is supposed to be peaceful, easy. But for Haven, sleep was her greatest enemy. She would slip through the abyss of consciousness and into the claws of the night, which only resulted in nightmares she could rarely recall and the unconscious fits of screaming that accompanied them. Often, Haven found it difficult to decipher which was worse: the susceptibility of the human mind, or the forces that wake to taunt it.

        She rubbed her eyes before glancing at the walls that surrounded her. Some days it felt like the entire room could swallow her whole. With less than a day remaining until she was to be floated, Haven knew damn well that she wouldn't miss this filthy cage.

        A dry laugh escaped her lips as her eyes shifted to the steel door at the head of her room. To the left of it was the remains of a shattered keypad lock. It was during her first year of incarceration that Haven actually believed she would be capable of fleeing her cell. Though, in retrospect, she had to admire the abundance of determination she once had. Now her persistence only amused her.

        Using the wooden metronome plated beside her bunk, Haven had unrooted it from the floor and rammed it repeatedly into the touchscreen with the goal of degenerating the system's security locks. Which, of course, was to no avail. Furthermore, of course– the fucktwad guards still hadn't repaired it almost four years later. She carried a lot more rage at sixteen than she did now.

        Haven's thoughts then drifted towards the hidden stack of books tucked away beneath her bedframe. Grumbling off of her mattress and down to her knees, she stretched her arm beneath the bunk until her fingers brushed against the woven stacks of paper. She tried to dismiss the soreness in her muscles as she did so. With a knowing grin tugging at her lips, she cautiously pulled the pile into her lap and seated herself on the floor.

       Among the pile, there were groups of novels and literature that Bellamy had snuck to her between guard shifts in effort to diffuse her boredom. Given her unwavering love for astronomy and his passion for reading, he made the choice to combine the two and present them to her as half-peace offering, half-bribe.

        Four years into Haven's incarceration, there came the discovery of Octavia Blake: the girl who lived in hiding beneath the floorboards for sixteen full years. Well, discovery to the rest of the Ark, at least. Haven had been well aware of her existence from much earlier on. She could recall the moment Bellamy told her distinctly in her mind.

      It had been a tiresome day for the two, sometime during Haven's first year as a deliquent. Bellamy would often have to escort Haven from Lockup to the medical station on GoSci for doctor's visits. This one in particular involved a series of cellular testing that spanned over the course of seven miserable hours. Bellamy hadn't eaten since that morning, Haven was exasperated from being Medical's favorite guinea pig. Despite this, the pair was appreciative of each other's presence. They'd grown infinitely closer due to the forced proximity.

       Bellamy was delirious on their way back, laughing as he shared a memory from dinner in his living quarters the night prior. Something about how he was surprised he hadn't grown gray hairs from being the only boy living alongside his mother and sister. It was only when Haven halted her pace beside him that he realized the truth he had revealed.

        His face drained of all color. After a quick scan to confirm no passerbys had heard, Bellamy reached for her forearm and tucked her into an empty corridor to their right. The words fled from his mouth in a frantic whisper. "Please don't-"

        "I won't tell." Haven assured him before he could close his sentence. His brown eyes were frantic as they meshed with hers, unsure of what reaction to expect. Instead, she offered a smile. "What's her name?"

       They formed a pack of unspoken solidarity on that day; she'd harbor the secret of his little sister, and as long as Bellamy was a guard– no one would come close to harming Haven. Not on his watch. She despised most guards, rightfully so. Most were over the age of fourty, polluted with nauseating greed, and unmarried. Preying upon the deliquents was their only source of livelihood.

        So, Bellamy sought to prove to Haven that he was on her side. He was the youngest of the guards, freshly seventeen when he first began training as a cadet. He told Haven he'd only taken the job to provide for his family on Factory Station and further protect Octavia's existence. Extending the protection to Haven happened naturally. Bellamy promised her that her safety was held reverently within his grasp– a token that he would guard with his life.

        He promised.

        Haven blinked and focused on the books before her. The titles of the stories consisted of Norton's Star Atlas, Constellations of the Night Sky, and The Illiad. Given the fact that majority of the remaining books had aged reasonably over the course of time (and, well, managed to survive the war that almost destroyed the entire human race as we know it), they were rarely titled to begin with. Haven had tried to create labels for the nameless writings, but after numerous pitiful attempts, she decided it was in her best interest to stop.

      Suddenly, an uproar of voices from outside the walls began howling; some in confusion, others in pain. The buzz of earsplitting silence and secret conversation that once occupied the Sky Box was replaced with the resounding bang of cell doors opening and slamming shut. Leaping to her feet, Haven dusted off her jeans and took one final glance at the four walls that surrounded her. It was time. It had to be.

         As the metal door that caged her in for the past five years opened wide, everything seemed to move in slow motion. It felt as if she was drifting aimlessly throughout the bounds of a dream. Except this time, it wasn't a nightmare. It was something more than that, something riveting. Her heart pounded thunderously beneath her ribs as two familiar guards filed orderly into her space.

        "Hunter Davis and Gregory Spade." Haven said, recognizing the two men as classmates that she attended primary school with. Something panged in her chest at the sight of what they became. "Here to suck the life out of me? I've got at least thirteen hours left, but now is as good a time as any."

        Hunter grimaced in response. "Prisoner 429, up against the wall." he ordered, approaching the girl that stormed before him with a silver box in his grasp. Haven's heavy gaze held enough power to shatter every bone in his body. It took all of the strength he could muster up to resist caving into the death glare fixated upon him.

        "No hello?" Her eyes widened and immediately flickered towards the box that Hunter placed above her bunk. As he opened the lid, a set of metal wristbands glinted beneath the lone LED light on her ceiling. Haven had to admit, they did look a bit daunting, and... unusual. Something wasn't right. This wasn't regular procedure.

        "Hold out your right wrist."

     Haven knitted her brows together as Hunter reached for her forearm. She'd never heard of a prisoner needing an accessory before execution. "Wait, what is this? What the hell do I need a wristband for?"

        "Prisoner 429, hold out your right wrist."

        The screams and violent pounding of footsteps that emanated from the other prisoners of the Sky Box rang viciously throughout her ears. What the fuck was going on? Haven slinked away from the two guards as they began to corner her. "Fuck off. You're killing all of us at once? Is it more convenient for you and your precious Council to do it this way? It's not even their dates yet. You can't just—"

        A gasp hitched in her throat as Spade drew an electric tazer from the waistband of his uniform. Blue spikes of electricity buzzed and crackled against the smooth surface of the wand, its appearance becoming more and more lethal as he continued his tread towards her.

        Haven scoffed, though the wheels in her brain were set into a violent cycle as she paused to determine the most effective method of escape. Egging them on would buy her some time. She continued, "A lightsaber, huh? That's so twentieth century, Davis. I thought you were better than that."

      Growing unamused of keeping to himself beside Hunter, Gregory released a low grunt of impatience and shoved his colleague to the left. "For the last time, Prisoner 429— hold out your right wrist. If you do not comply, your indifference will be taken as a threat. By order of the Council, we hold the right to defend ourselves against any actions of disorderly conduct."

      "So political." Haven sneered, defiantly crossing her arms over her chest. She took a step closer to Gregory, close enough to smell the stench of his breath in her nose and close enough to sense the heat of it against her skin. It reeked of stale cigarettes and burnt herbs, but Haven didn't flinch. "I'm not threatening you, Greg. I'll give you my god damn wrist once you tell me what you're doing with all of us."

        "We're not authorized to share that information."

        So be it. Haven remained unphased. The answer he'd given her was the one she expected him to say anyways. She sighed, eyeing the open exit that awaited her. "Well, you leave me no choice, boys. Don't say that I didn't try to wear you down beforehand."

        As the guards shared a misguided glance of confusion, Haven seized the opportunity before her without a second of hesitation. In one swift movement, she rammed her knee upwards into Hunter's groin, following through by kicking the wand from his grip while he pummeled to the floor.

      Before Gregory had the chance to react, Haven tensed her body and swung her right fist against the side of his jaw, ensuring to follow through with the rest of her arm. Her mother had always told her that the infamous Smith Suckerpunch had traveled through multiple generations of bloodlines. If only she was there to witness her daughter using it in action today.

        "You little bitch!" Hunter roared, fury flooding his veins as he watched Gregory's body collapse limply across the concrete. Haven's suckerpunch had successfully knocked him out cold, prompting a smug grin to spread across her face.

        "Awh. Not very political anymore." She took advantage of the fact that Hunter was still on the ground and lifted her leg again. The sound of his pained whine echoed in the cell as she landed an extra blow to his ribcage with her foot. Truthfully, it wasn't Haven's intention to fight the guards. The injuries weren't awful.  Most likely just a bruised rib, and a pair of testicles that wouldn't be capable of reproduction anytime soon. The men would heal– eventually.

        A familiar, shrill scream abruptly began to ring throughout Haven's ears. Within no guards blocking her, she raced through the exit of her cell and propelled herself into the ongoing commotion that raged within the Sky Box. Her eyes widened, adjusting to the fluorescent lights that gleamed above her. The fright repressed within her became overbearing as she worriedly sweeped the area.

        Dread filled her chest within seconds. Countless amounts of prisoners and guards were scattered throughout the jail of the Ark; some with their hands cuffed tightly behind their back and gags jerked between their chapped lips, while others lay motionless as their bodies were wheeled away on stretchers. There was screaming, so much screaming. She couldn't see a single Council member in sight.

        "Haven! Over here!"

        Instinctively, Haven pivoted her body in the direction of the helpless voice. It was muffled, yet so familiar that it sounded clear as day. While rushing amongst the chaos that surrounded her, she could feel the heart in her chest grow heavier with every moment that passed. It couldn't be her, she thought. It couldn't be.

        After nudging aside several strangers and dodging the cells infested with guards, Haven managed to effectively slip out of eyesight and locate where the voice was coming from. With a sharp intake of breath, she parted her lips to speak.

        "Raven?"

      Raven Reyes stood boldly behind the padlocked door that separated the pair, fists pounding mercilessly against the sealed glass window. It was the threshold that disjointed Mecha Station (the section of the Ark the girls had grown up in together) from the Sky Box. Tears welled within her wild eyes and blood stained her knuckles to a dark shade of maroon as they collided with the window pane.

        "Run! You have to run, H! They're going to kill you! They're going to kill all of you! They have Finn, a-and now they have you! They're sending you down there to die! You have to hide! You have to run, or jump stations, or, or—"

      "Raven... how did you..." Haven shook her head, pressing her trembling fingers flat against the surface of the window. She was too stunned to breathe, let alone process the information being shared. The last time she saw her childhood bestfriend was the day Haven was dragged to Lockup— five years ago. She wanted to cry, but she knew they weren't spared the time. "Okay, slow down. I can't hear you. Where are they sending us?"

      "To Earth, Haven! They're sending you to Earth."

      Her heart stopped.

        "What?" Haven's voice was only a mere whisper, the words fleeing her lips in undiluted disbelief. It simply was not possible. And even if it was, her chances of surviving on a planet that was otherwise known as inhabitable ranged from slim to none. However, expecting a pack of juvenile delinquents to survive on it, was blatant death wish. She struggled to speak. "How?"

        Ruthless sobs of anguish writhed in the back of Raven's throat as she stood on the opposite side of the glass. "I-I don't know, but I'm getting my ass on that dropship. I promise you. Somehow, someway, I'll get there. If I could only get this stupid door to—fuck! Haven, MOVE!"

        Before Haven could turn around, an abrupt prick of pain blossomed at the base of her neck. It felt like a sting received from the bite of a killer insect, similar to the ones she'd read about in one of novels Bellamy had given her: excruciating, paralyzing, and lethal. Her eyelids grew heavy. Her body felt weightless. It was almost as if Haven suddenly wasn't existing; something she had endlessly ached for, yet never expected so soon.

      Time seemed to move at the pace of a faltering heartbeat. All that was visible faded to shadows and motion, all that was heard dissolved to the piercing sound of Raven's cries and the footsteps of the guards that floated into the room. In her eyes, they were nothing but a blur. Soon, all she had the strength to retain was silence and twilight— left alone to fade in and out of what felt like a torturous reality and a pleasurable dream. Slowly, then all at once. Like the way you fall in love, like the way you fall asleep. The way you fall asleep. Fall asleep, fall asleep...

        Darkness.

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first edit of the story babbbyyyyyy! also i tweaked the timeline a bit of bellamy being a guard so if anything seems inaccurate do not fret. if you are rereading this years later hello pls share ur thoughts

also i think this goes without saying but she didnt die lol girlypop got hit with a tranq

love u!! <3

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