The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10 Read Online Free Page A

boss. Hell, I’d take moving back into my last foster home over whatever was going on outside my door. That said a lot since there was six of us under the age of sixteen living in a two bedroom trailer with a guy who couldn’t lay off the bong for more than an hour.  
    More loud gunfire shocked me back to reality. I ran into my bedroom and tripped over the loose carpet I must have messed up over the past few days. I scooted across the wood floor until I was against the wall, then slid towards the closet.  
    I tried to convince myself the noise was just the old wood creaking. I tried to convince myself that the bang was only the screen opening an inch or two by the wind and then shutting. But what I knew were footsteps got closer and closer to my bedroom, and I couldn’t convince myself otherwise.  
    Creak—another footstep, this time just outside of my bedroom walls. I rolled backwards into the closet and pushed myself until my back was flush against the wall, clothes hanging above me, whipping me in the face. In that moment, I wished I had left the door hanging instead of using it for a scream-blocker on the windows.
    I covered my mouth with my hands, worried my ragged breaths would be a beacon for the intruders. A warm tear trickled down my face, stopping at the dam my pointer finger made below my nose. I didn’t wipe it away.
    “Make sure you clear it.”  
    The door to my bedroom slammed open. I bit the inside of my cheek to hold in my scream. Crumbles from the wall clicked like rainbow sprinkles to the floor. I squeezed my eyes shut harder, not wanting to face whoever was there. If I could have stopped my heart from beating, I would have. Everything inside of me tensed until I was a wound ball of nerves.
    The same deep, gruff voice mumbled something I couldn’t understand as he stomped through my bedroom. His steps sounded as if he was wearing combat boots, each louder than the next. He huffed under his breath; even his exhale sounded angry. I heard joints cracking as he bent down. He became oddly quiet, and I fought the urge to look out from the veil of my closet.  
    “I swear I have to do everything myself.”  
    My bed creaked, and a foot shuffled. I faintly smelled something sour and bitter, like sweat and vodka, but it was too close to be the man near the bed. I struggled to hold back a sob. I knew this was going to happen sooner or later. I never had an easy hand in life, and an invasion wouldn’t change my luck. His boots got closer. The clothes above me swayed, a soft wind trickled over my face. I couldn’t move, refused to open my eyes. I thought I might puke.
    “You didn’t think we’d leave you?” It was a new voice. Arms wrapped around my shoulders, and two more hands got my legs as they dragged me through the clothes. I screamed, kicking and flailing my limbs, attempting to free myself.  
    “Let go!” I yelled.
    “We’ve got a live one!” the man chuckled, and two more sets of feet came towards me, heavy and strong, pounding—thum thum, thum thum, thum thum.  
    “She sure is pretty.” The new voice was deep and wicked, kind of melodic. Goose bumps prickled down my arms and up my spine. I screamed again as he lifted me in the air. I tried to memorize the man’s face, but before I knew it, a calloused hand covered my eyes. I only caught blue eyes and a sad frown.  
    The hands that smelled like sewage slid a scratchy blindfold over my eyes. His movements were hard, needy with each brush against me like he’d never had human contact before. He fumbled around near my head, his fingers digging into the skin on the back of my neck. My stomach twisted in knots. They were taking me. My life was over. What was this all for?
    I didn’t fear my life anymore. Instead, I feared what they would do if they let me live. They could just be looters, but I doubted that was their only goal. The way they touched my body reminded me of a foster “brother” I had at age sixteen: he got aggressive,