C~H~A~I~N~S

[Scottish Girl]

Anne smiled softly,"When you do go, you DEFIANETELY have to treat me like a slave," Said Anne as she curled up on the bed, hearing footsteps.

[DeathOfTheCentury.]

Sinder jumped onto the bed with her, "I know," He said, staring at the door. The steps were heavy, sounding like boots. he knew it was one of his family members. He closed his eyes, holding onto Anne tight, but not so much to were she almost couldn't breath.

[Scottish Girl]

Anne quickly pushed him off and stood beside he bed looking innocent. The door opened and his adopted mother poked her head in,"You okay?" she asked, before seeing everything g was fine and stepping out

[DeathOfTheCentury.]

Sinder growled, staying down, "I'm going to kill my adopted farther," He growled, "He knows I hate them and he knows i'm just going to get experimented on!" He yelled, making sure his father could hear him.

[Scottish Girl]

Anne out a hand on his shoulder, "Settle down, I'll get you something to eat," said Anne and disappeared. A few minutes later she came back with a tray and put it down on the bed before sitting on the floor, fiddling with the bl on her collar.

[DeathOfTheCentury.]

Sinder smiled when she came back. shaking he tool a bite out of his food, "It is good," He said, smiling softly. He sighed when he heard someone pull in, but then just stay there, "Looks like they are back."

[Scottish Girl]

It was starting to get dark outside, and Anne put a hand on his shoulder,"Maybe you should go and do be paper work," she said as she stood up.

[DeathOfTheCentury.]

Sinder nodded, sneaking out of the room. he looked around, slowly creeping down the stairs. He almost fell down laughing when he saw the paperwork on the desk. He grabbed it, changed the name, then ran back to the room.

[Scottish Girl]

Anne stood up,"I better go get some sleep, goodnight," she said and walked out, just as Sinders Biological father walked in.

[DeathOfTheCentury.]

Sinder growled, "What do you want?" He barked, his voice full of fear, but still hatred. He jumped onto his bed, gabbing his pocket knife, holding it up.