Within the Walls

Prologue

Hi there! Welcome to the first book in the dystopian series Within the Walls. It has been an absolute honour to write this novel. Elle's story is my pride and joy so if you take the time to read it, I cannot even begin to tell you how thankful I am. I do hope you enjoy it, and don't be afraid to let me know what you think.

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Her bare feet pound at the ground, kicking up dirt in her wake as she hurtles through the alleyways. Tears stream down her face as the harsh wind whips at her unruly red curls. The girl doesn't acknowledge a soul as she pushes her legs ever faster, her footsteps pounding to a steady rhythm against the cobbled streets, unlike the erratic beat of her heart. They seem to echo, a booming thud against the otherwise silent neighbourhood. The evening is descending upon the city and the dimly lit streets are quiet, for the citizens do not want to risk being out past curfew.

"Elle!" screams a familiar voice. But the girl won't stop for anyone, not even her sister. The only thing that matters is getting to her home, to her parents. Everything else is secondary.

Her lungs gasp for oxygen. Her legs burn with exertion. But the adrenaline coursing through her veins pushes her forward. The run-down, brick buildings tower above her tiny figure as her legs carry her forward. The girl lets out a yelp as she collides bodily into someone; she barely mutters a trembling apology before side stepping the person and careering around the corner.

Finally, she approaches the front door of her family's building. The girl stumbles up the steps, two at a time and when she arrives on her landing, she frantically digs into the pockets of her ratty trousers, her hand trembling as it gets the key in the lock. She crashes through the door and stumbles into the tiny, cramped apartment of her family home. "Dad!" the girl cries. "Mum!"

The girl flies around the small apartment, yelling hysterically for her mother and father to greet her, to wrap her in hugs, to ask her if she is all right.

But they never do.

The young girl staggers out of one of the empty bedrooms and into the living room where she slumps against a wall, crumpling to the floor. Tears blind her vision as her pursuing sister enters the room.

"Elizabeth?" she calls out, voice laced with concern and a knowing fear.

The young girl gradually brings her gaze up to her older fifteen-year-old sister, whose wild auburn curls match her own.

"Elizabeth!"

"They're gone," the girl mutters, her voice cracks.

The older girl's hands fly to her mouth, blue eyes wide. "No..."

"They took them, Isabelle. They took them. They've been banished."

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