Sounds came through her door. Erika didn’t know what was going on. The prison has turned to chaos. Her room was small, no bigger than a prison cell. Only four by four feet square and painted in a worn-out light grey. The only homely touches she had was a photo of her and her dad at a park in Seattle, or what settled for a park, in a small black frame on top of a chest or draws next to bed, and a teddy shaped like a little girl with blonde frizzy hair with a blue and white maid outfit, who she called Sandy Day which she held tightly in her hands close to her chest as she sat on her knees to the metal bedroom door. Sounds of screams, yelling and gun fire echoed through the door. The sounds felt like pain and despair channeling through the halls of the compound.
Her father was both proud and sad for her. Proud that she is mature for her age but sad that she had to grow up when she was very young. She was only a baby when her mother left, but the pain of knowing that her mother left still saddens her. Erika’s mother left because she was showing signs of psychic ability. Ninety five percent of all psychics have tendencies for violence and archaic rituals that resulted in massacres of people exploding. The government had found a way of determining who had psychic abilities by testing their blood when they were infants, and if they had the psychic DNA strand then they would be put into a government controlled facility where they would be trained for government service and if that didn’t work they would be sent to prisons on a off-world planet to live the rest of their days in isolation far from their home planet Earth.
Her father had to bring her up on his own. To prevent the government from getting their hands on her he got a job with the prisons as a prison guard which he used to hack into the government terminals where he could erase all data on her. It’s was easier to gain access to a government terminal when working on the inside. At fourteen years old now, her and her dad were transferred to one of the off-world prisons.
Erika’s hazel eyes looked on at the metal door. Her ears pricked under her long wavy black brown hair as the door shook, sounds of pounding came through. The maturity that her father was so proud of was no use to her now, she was all alone. She felt stripped back to an innocent child lost in the depths of her emotions. Not knowing what was going on outside her door was almost as frightening as knowing. One thing she was sure of is that the prison has descending into chaos, and all she could do is hope her father was alive and coming for her.