Eliza

Right as I awoke my heart was beating rapidly, my head was throbbing it was hard to even get up from the ground. I didn't want to move.

The infinity was dried of blood, as I tap it, it stings. The water grazing over it, taking the dried blood with it. Revealing a scar, a pink red.

"We are ready to go, Eliza." George's voice ringing in my head. "Remember, come in on my count." I remind them, they nod. "Landon, wake up." I shake him shoulder, "Oh shit! Here we go!" He yelled, my ears adjusting to his volume.

"We are going right now. Aren't we?" His face was dark with sadness. "We have to," I insist.

Taking his hand, his fingers intertwine with mine. My feet carried me into the water, deep down into the water. The water was eerier then normal, thicker then normal, darker then normal. When I could finally see light we were already 5 minutes under.

"Read-y?" I ask, his head bobbed slowly, because of the pressure. I swim deeper into the water, his hand holding on tight. "What are your names?" A Atlantian soldier asked, "Elizabella Kwiatkowski and Landon Hart." I say for us, "Head to the field immediately." The guard's deep voice said. Handing us two packages of clothes.

One has Landon's full name on it with a black and white picture of him, like a sticker that they stuck to the plastic bag. "Landon Bruce Hart?" I grin, his expression clueless. "They know things about people who don't even know them, don't be so surprised." I hand him the package with one hand, he looked at me and took it reluctantly.

"The field is close by, we just have to swim north." Landon's eyes viewed the wide space city. With lights and hotels. "They're gonna ask questions to you but don't be scared to put your own twist on the questions." I swim a head towards the large field.

A few Amphibians stood walking around, stalking males like a hawk. I could feel a male staring at me right now. "

"And those are the phibians." I pointed slightly, trying to be polite. If you ever upset a phibian, be prepared to get your ass whooped. "Looks about right, although they look like a creepy version of Medusa."

I look back and see their glistening skin, sharp snake like eyes. While some have a normal face and a mutated body or arm or leg.

"I can see how you saw that." I said, looking back at the phibians one last time. "Well, Here is where I leave you for 5 minutes. I'll see on the other side." I take one last breather before hugging Landon tightly, without letting the match makers see us and swim lightly over to the rooms.

"I'll take Elizabella Kwiatkowski over here." A woman's voice erupted from some sort of microphone that was invisible to the eye. "Bye," I whisper, he looked at me and walked into a room similar to mine.

"You look.... normal." I shuttered, "I'm sure I do, Bella." She looked at me with petite eyes. "You're a human?" My voice quivered a little bit at the end.

"I know I am, let's start shall we?" She ask, "n-no? Don't call me Bella." I force myself to sit down in her old wooden chair in this air bubble. "It's fine, but I know it'll hurt you if I do. It's just a strategy, Bella." She blinked her eyes maybe ten times very quickly.

Letting out a deep breath, I look at her with a short temper. "Here is the test paper, write whatever you feel is the right answer on it." Her hands shook with a clipboard, paper and a golden pen with the sabred head of the King himself, Zenthilha.

Using my teeth I bit off his head and threw it into the other side of the room, leading to the field. "Thats alright, I have a lot of different pens you'll love." Her dimples cutting deep into her smile, a tinge of annoyance in her voice. "What about this one?" She said, placing the pen down with a plop. A pinkish middle finger up. I grinned as I saw the pen.

"Can I keep it?" I chuckle, "Only if you don't give me a hard time." She looked at the pen again. "Sure." As I started writing I realized how strange the questions were, they didn't sound strange but they were strange. First question: if you had to pick one person from this group of people, who would you pick? Right, great question. Except none of those are my answers. There was this guy with gigantic muscles and a goofy grin. Next is a nerdy guy with glasses. Last is a business man in a suit with...... his frown. He must love his job. But I added the spark this question needed.

I wrote down Landon's name and moved on. What type of shampoo would you use? Them they put Strawberry, lime and ocean breeze. I wonder if ocean breeze smells like Zenthilha. If it does it should be called Oceans hell. I write down coconut next to the lime and circle both of them. Continuing... anyways.

What's most important in a relationship? There's honestly, intelligence, intimacy or Kindness. Now, 1. Why the fuck did they put intimacy, that's just weird.
2.Stupid they put intelligence on there.
3.I'm picking the most obvious answer ever.
I write down love and continue with the next question.

If you ever get divorced in a relationship, what would the cause be? And they gave me a few lines to write. I write in very small letters: Sometimes, you weren't being loved and you thought you were. Because of that, you can't say it but you have to act it. That wouldn't make sense to most people but only two people would find sense In them. Landon and me. If I didn't know what I was writing why the fuck would I write it? It's common sense and you gotta have it in this world or.... you get rejected and called officially stupid. The world doesn't want ugly, fat, useless, brainless, hogwash people who talk random crap that doesn't make sense.

Next question hit me hard: What would you have to tell your mate in your relationship? The answer is simple. Sexual abuse, from someone you thought loved you but didn't. The person that's supposed to be your friend, to be there when you need them.

It's hard to write this on paper. I wrote the words one by one, every word becoming more rough then the last, becoming more meaningful, becoming just a thought that won't come true. It becomes something you think you could stop, that you could pretend didn't happen, but you can't. It's apart of who you are, it'll stick with you for the rest of your life and you know it. But it makes you feel sick to your stomach, to think that a family member would hurt you in a blink of an eye. To think that he... he was there when I was first born. One of the first people to see me. To think he.... actually loved me, still.... it hurts. Even if he thought he was a good brother, a caring brother, a loving brother?

He didn't do anything but crush my heart and soul for years to come. Even after he was dead, my heart was still breaking and to think that he. That man, is still looking over me. I hope that he knows that I was the one who threw that knife. I hope he knows that I want him to suffer. I hope he..... is burning in hell right now. Nobody, absolutely nobody should be treated like that. No one. Even if I say no one. I want him to know how I felt when he did that. He deserves what I did, he cornered me in a corner and took over me.

He manipulated me, he betrayed me. He lied to everyone. After this, I'm going to go to his grave. Grab his skeleton by the neck and turn the bones to a pile of ashes. Happy I wasn't there at the funeral. I wouldn't be crying for him, I would be crying for my sorrow. And that's how he made me feel about him. If it weren't for him, I would still feel for him.

To think of his smug face and evil narrow eyes, it makes me want to jump off a cliff and.... die. He never once asked how I felt, never asked how I am, never even asked me anything. The only words I remember him say is, "I don't feel sorrow, you can kill me one day but I will never feel sorry for you." I would remember him snarl and laugh.

I remember him gripping my arm and forcing me toward him, his breath on my neck and his dry lips. I remember everything. Every, single, detail. But most of all, how I felt after. Everything hurt inside of me. Everything. Nothing felt good.

I was 7, how was I supposed to say what happened. It was a mistake not telling. My parents, they would've understood, they would've done something. Just like they did on the day of his execution. When I write down the period on the statement I wrote for that question, the paper was already wet with tears.

Only one more question remained. My hand was shaking, I look back at the pen, wish I could just tell him to fuck off or something. But I couldn't, you can't change the past. The final question was: If you were matched with someone you don't want to be matched with, what will you do? I stared at the question for a few more seconds.

My eyes then flickered to all the wet spots on the paper. Writing down my answer, I look up from the sheet and drop the paper onto the ground and stand up. Walking to the field. "Excuse me," The woman asked, "I'm finished," I said, walking out so she couldn't keep me behind.

She was probably staring at my final answer. You will see.