When Eve sees a story on the news, she thinks nothing of it. Just another escaped slave. Leave him to die, she thinks. It isn't till Eve's own life takes an unexpected turn that she begins to appreciate what she used to take for granted...

"Yeah, sure. Totally. Uh hu. Okay, see you tommorow. Love you, bye!" A tiny bleep informed Eve that the transmission had been terminated, but she didn't remove it from her ear.

You never know, you might get a call when you least expect it, she always told herself. It was one of Eve's worst pet habits, and it irritated her mother no end.

"Wipe your feet," Bella snapped at her daughter emerged, dripping wet through the front door, which swooshed shut and locked with a soft click. "Honestly, I don't know why you bother going outside to take calls. It's nothing I haven't heard before, trust me."

Taking Eve's waterproof and hanging it up, she placed her hands on her hips and scrutinized her, eyes screwing up as she tried to desipher her daughters expression.

Eve blonde hair was plastered to her pasty forehead, the overhead lights throwing her features into sharp relief and draining her face of colour. Eyes distant, she swept past her mother.

"Young lady, get back here before I..."

Ignoring her mothers threats, Eve marched into her room and flung herself onto the bed, staring at the cieling. It was white, with pale creamy curls and spirals twisting their way round the room, creeping onto the walls and spreading onto the carpet.

It was the latest in home design and fashion, but it just gave Eve a headache.

Yawning, she told the door to lock itself, and flicked on her TV. One entire wall sputtered and fizzed up with static, until settling on the local news broadcast.

"Good evening, London! It's been a wet day today, with the rain continuing into the night, although strong winds mean it will blow away by tomorrow. Back to Pedro in the studio."

"Thanks, Doe. Our top story tonight is..."

Eve couldn't be bothered to listen. The news was all the same these days. Endless new cities being expanded to amazing heights. London was so old compared with the other, newer cirites that it's height was tiny in comparison, having a mere three hundred concourses.

"...Slave dealers all over the world are up in arms over the escape of the young convict, and a world wide manhunt has been issued. Now live to our Slave Correspondant, who is at the scene in Hong Kong right now."

Slave escape. Typical, boring, everyday news.


The End

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