The Vibrant Chronicles: Magenta eyes

There are many kinds of quiet. Quiet that is not properly quiet but when there's so much white noise you simply hear nothing. And everything. Dead quiet, although no human, who could hear sound, had experienced such until science created a vacuum sort of quiet and men and women experienced it and felt pain at the utter lack of noise. Quiet a person who cannot hear sound hears. The soft quiet of night with crickets and rustling. The soft quiet of the sun rising and the animals stirring.

Penny did not wish to hear such silence. Because if it was silent, that meant that everyone had died. And she would be. Alone. A breath, Penny stirred from her hiding place and then slumped back down as she realised it was her own.

Mother and Father had told her to get into the small space in the wardrobe; she would not. As she would not, they told her the truth. That if she were to be out, she would die, but that they might not die.

Silence meant death.
"Where is she?"
Penny exhaled, relief sharp in her chest as her eyes started watering. It was over, they were alive but wait...where is she? They were not her parents.

"I'm in the closet," she said loudly, feigning confidence that she did not feel, "And this is where my father keeps his gun. If you try to do anything to me, I will shoot you."
"A fourteen year old child can shoot a gun?"
"You would be surprised," her voice was wry and full of menace.
"We don't mean to hurt you."
"Of course you mean to hurt me," her voice was sharp, "And if you open the closet door, I will shoot you."
"You know what? I don't think you have a gun."
Fear sliced through her.
"Oh? Open the door and find out." It was so arrogant, so sure that she was certain the strange owner of the voice would not.
"Alright." There was a smirk to that voice.

Light, artificial, of course; it was night, came pouring into the room. And a smiling face presented itself.
"You're a...."
"Boy? Yes, indeed, I am only a year older than you."
"No, I was going to say, you look a lot like me," it was true, he had her strange magenta eyes, her brown hair that turned gold in the light.
"Who on earth are you?"
"Alas, I cannot tell you that, but I promise I will not kill you, so would you kindly step out of the wardrobe?"
She did. And then she punched him. Hard. He went down.

Without a passing glance, Penelope Grey ran off into the night, with a satchel with food and supplies, but of course he found her.
"You know, the next time you try to knock person out, make sure they're actually unconscious before you run, lest they follow you."
"What do you want?" she held out a kitchen knife she had brought.

"Well, for starters, I do not want to kill you."
"I highly doubt that."
"Will you at least listen to me?"
"Come any nearer and I'll stab you, or throw my knife at you!"
He whipped out a gun.
"Now, what do you suppose is faster, a gun or a knife? What is more accurate? A bullet, or a thrown dagger? Heavy, slow, easier to dodge, and I bet you've never had to throw a kitchen knife before."
She lowered it.
"You are incredibly annoying."
He raised his eyebrows.
"You believe me, then, about not killing you. That would be an unwise thing to say to an assassin."
"What. Do. You. Want."
"Is it not obvious?"
"No."
"The strange, rare magenta eyes that only your father, you and me have? The hair your mother, you and I share? The beautiful faces," he gestured to his and then hers, "I'm your brother."
"Impossible; I'm an only child."
"Not at all, sister dear, quite the contrary actually, very possible. Mother and Father kept you, they Sold me."
"So you're here for revenge? To kill me? To destroy my life? Because they chose me? Because you're bitter, or twisted or...."
"So dramatic. No," he threw his gun to her. Startled, she caught it. "I was lucky. You, on the other hand, were not. I'm here to save you."