A sample of a possible book I'll write. I'm 16, it's worth your read.
|Raised With An Attitude
Standing-no, I’m sitting. Is that mud I feel between my toes? No, it can’t be. My toes are numb. Heat… heat-wait, it’s hot! But… it can’t be. I remember white… snow… winter? Can’t be. I go to feel my lips but my hands are stuck, like they’re paralyzed. Paralyzed! Am I paralyzed? No, I can move my shoulders but they’re stiff. Maybe… chains, my wrists are chained?! Chained to what though? Must be a chair. Augh this is so confusing. I lick my lips and feel the rough cut surface of chapped lips. I still can’t see anything. Wait, something is trickling down my feet. It’s warm. My ankles are chained too, it’s blood? Oh no, I’m bleeding.. Where else am I bleeding from? My ribs, it hurts to breath… each breath is straining. I’m starting to feel my body again. My limbs starting to awaken with streaming blood running through them a million miles per second faster than a freight train. What the hell is happening to me. Wait a second… I hear something… voices. I can’t understand what they are saying though. Russian? Maybe, I was never good at languages. I should of studied more. Wait,. Why am I thinking this, where am I? I feel rough hands remove something from my head and I can see again. If you can call it seeing. Everything is white. Am I back in the snow? No it’s too warm. There, I can make out the outline of a lamp. The light is so bright… I can’t see anything but it’s light. Pointed at me? Why is the light pointed at me? What did I do? I try to utter the words “Who are you?” But all that comes out of my half-parted lips are grunts. I try again.
“Who are you?” I managed it.
“English?!” A man spoke with a heavy Russian accent. Yes Russian, I am sure of it now.
“What do you want with me?”
“Want with you? Haha son, you’re going to help us.”