"[i]Ding dong![/i] Good morning! The time is approximately seven o'clock am. This is your daily wakeup call for Battery City. Please remember to take your medicine this morning! Also, please tune in to channel thirty-seven on your television for a very important program. [i]Ding dong![/i]"

I open my eyes and sit up in my very plain twin bed. I barely listen to the intercom in my bedroom as I crawl out of bed and walk into my livingroom. Sitting down in my plain white chair, I turn my tv on to channel thirty-seven and grab a pill bottle from a plain white end table next to the chair. I dump a white pill with a smiley face stamped onto it into my hand and hold it up to my mouth. I do not swallow, however. I already know what this "very important program" is. The thought of it makes me shudder.

On the television before me is a man sitting in a chair. Well, I wouldn't say sitting. He's more like struggling to stand, but the restraints around his wrists and ankles are keeping him from doing so. He is not screaming, nor is he crying. Instead, he's staring at whatever Draculoid is standing behind the glass that's behind the camera. Then a voice spoke,

"Robert Dilligan, ID number 247591 captured in Zone 3, you are being terminated for failure to comply with Better Living Industries standards on four accounts." The fact that they said "terminated" and not "killed mercilessly" boils my blood. They're cowards. "The first charge is refusal to ingest daily dosage of medicine issued by Better Living Industries. The second is plotting to remove yourself from Better Living Industries property. The third is successfully removing yourself from Better Living Industries property. The fourth is fraternizing with the likes of the Killjoy rebels. Do you have any final words, number 247591?"

The man, Robert Dilligan, stops moving and stares directly into the camera, his blue eyes as hard as stone. It makes me feel like he's staring directly into my soul.

"This one's for all you rock 'n' rollers; all you crash queens and motor babies; listen up! The future is bulletproof! The aftermath is secondary! It's tme to do it now and do it loud! Killjoys, make some noise!"

And with that quote from the infamous Dr. Death Defying, the chair is turned on. A blood curtling scream erupts from Robert's throat as the electric chair fries him. The Draculoids don't bother to cover his head as his eyeballs bulge and eventually explode; for an extermination like this, they were as brutal as possible. They want everyone in Battery City to know that if you rebelled, they would show no mercy.

Suddenly, Robert Dilligan's life ended.The chair is turned off, and his body slouches over, a small flame sizzling the last of his hair away. The screen then changes to a white background with only the "BL/ind" logo and their trademark black "smiley face," if that's what you wanted to call it.

"Today is a wonderful day." The screen says. To those who take their medicine, which is [i]supposed[/i] to be everyone, this voice pretty much hypnotizes them into a good mood. This is just how BLI brainwashes you. "I feel happy today. My life is perfect. Better Living Industries will take care of me."

I sit in my chair, staring at the screen until it's finished. I act like I am paying attention, but my mind is elsewhere. [i]Today's the day,[/i] I think. After Robert Dilligan's execution, I've come to my limit with this place. There isn't anything else I could handle here in Battery City. I keep my emotions to myself, however, and put on the dazed expression that everyone had after a mind adjustment, as I walk into my plain white kitchen for breakfast. Everything had to seem "normal" just in case the flies were watching me. They are everywhere. Well, everywhere but where I would be in a few hours' time.

There is a chute in my kitchen instead of a refridgerator and stove. This chute is in the home of every single resident in Battery City. Our meals are delivered here through a tubing system beneath the city, and each home has a pipe on the side. I open my chute door to see a small white package. This package, which looks like a military MRE (from what I recall from years ago,) is my breakfast. All I have to do is open it, pour water on the small dried cubes, put it in the microwave, and voila! Breakfast is served. Today is Tuesday, which means "pop up pancakes" as I like to call them. Bringing the fork up, I put the first bite of pancakes into my mouth. Discreetly, I place the pill that I haven't swallowed onto the fork, then dig it around into the rest of the bowl.

After ten minutes, my breakfast is thrown into the trash, barely touched. I don't know when my next meal will be, but I don't care. I'm sick of eating this processed slop. [i]Now is the time,[/i] I think. Everyone would be just leaving to go to work or school in fifteen or so minutes, so if I wanted to leave, now would be my chance. The streets would be busy, so I could easily blend into the crowd. I quickly retreat to my bedroom and close the door, locking it.

One by one, I close my bedroom curtains. Once my room is shrouded in darkness, I turn my bedside lamp on. I push my heavy white dresser out of the way from where it is next to my wall and kneel on the floor. Under two of the floorboards here is a hollow. In the hollow is a duffelbag. And in the duffelbag are clothes. Not just any clothes though; these are my Killjoy clothes.

This bag already has all my essentials in it. Over the past year or so, I made sure to acquire an extra toothbrush, tube of toothpaste, two sticks of deodorant, a pack of disposable razors, soap, various makeup things, and other toiletries. Who knew how long this stuff would last, but at least I'd have these small luxuries for a little while. Also in the bag are a few pairs of underwear, some socks, two extra bras, a pair of sweatpants, a pair of black shorts, various t-shirts, tank tops, a sweater, a hoodie, and my Killjoy clothes. Even if I wanted to, I couldn't save any of the meals BLI gave me every day, because they would know if I was hoarding them. So I would have to go without food until I either found allies or stole from an old rundown grocery store. Neither option was very likely to happen though.

I toss the duffelbag onto my bed after double-checking that everything's there. Then I grab a white v-neck t-shirt from my dresser and a pair of black skinny jeans from my closet. I change out of my bed clothes, put on some black running shoes, then move my dresser back to its original spot. It's time to go.

Every house in Battery City has a garage. Almost every resident uses their garage for their car, unless the man of the house uses it for other things. My garage held a car alright. Nobody knew about it, however. I open the door to my beloved 2000 Jeep Wrangler TJ and throw the bag in the back seat. Then I quickly threw the garage door open and ran to hop into my car. Turning the key in the ignition, she roars to life and I smile. God, I missed hearing that.

With one last look at what will no longer be my home, I pull out of the garage and into the street. I turn onto the closest main road to my house. Blending in is a little harder than I originally thought, considering I'm the only person with a bright yellow classic Jeep in probably all of Battery City, but I keep cool nonetheless. As I stop at a streetlight, I grab a purse that's laying on the floor under the passenger seat and pull out a USB cable and an old 32 gig mp3 player. I plug it into the sound system of my car and put on some of my favorite rock music.

Turning onto another road, I start to notice something's not right. There's major traffic, which is nothing new at this time of day, but it's slowing to a dead stop about one hundred yards up the road. What sends my heart into my throat are the Draculoids walking up and down the lanes of traffic. There's tons of them, and they have a barricade at the end of the road. The ones walking down the lanes are forcing everyone, car by car, to list their ID numbers, names, and addresses. If there's a car that looks suspicious, they make everyone inside get out so they can search it. Then they hold up a piece of paper that has what looks like a picture on it. A Draculoid at the car in front of me holds the picture up to the driver, and a quick breeze blows the side of the paper into my view. My heart that was previously in my throat slams into my stomach and takes all the color from my face with it.

It's a picture of me.

Notes

So here's the first chapter of the first story I've written in years. Hope you enjoy it! Please leave comments and let me know what you think. I would really appreciate it!

You can see a picture of Lilianna [url=http://thechive.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/melissa-clarke-20.jpg?w=500&h=313]here[/url] and [url=http://carphotos.cardomain.com/ride_images/3/3303/2901/33256450002_large.jpg]here[/url] is a picture of her Jeep!

All chapter titles will be song names. At the end of every chapter, I'll post the name of the song, the band/musician who wrote it, and why it was used for the chapter.

This chapter is Wicked Ways by Five Finger Death Punch, and it's geared towards Lilianna's feelings about Better Living Industries.