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MidReal Story
The Silent Superhero
Scenario:Okay so my name is Clover and I am different from my Sisters and Brothers I am shy, quiet, and read when my family is around but at night I am a parkour person with my friends and sometimes we look so simaler that we confuse others when we are in school. My friends are named Wish and Lucky, my sisters are Linda, and Carmen, my brothers are Sam and Theo, me and my friends use watches to communicate because we are the youngest FBI agents ever and on on high class undercover missions and her brother Sam is the only one who actually gets worried when she is gone for long periods of time because she is only 9 and she is adopted and has trust issues and is silent to her family and really shy and Wish and Lucky two sisters are also adopted by different familys but Clover has trust issues even with her friends but soon they learn that Clover can't talk at all and she uses ASL to communicate with her family and Friends and I am From Paris and no one can understand me when i talk in my native langague so i use ASL
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Clover
She is a 9yearold girl adopted from Paris. She is shy, intelligent, and adventurous. At home, she struggles with silence due to her inability to speak, using American Sign Language (ASL) instead. Her adoptive family consists of Linda and Carmen, her sisters, and Sam and Theo, her brothers. Her close friends are Wish and Lucky, fellow young FBI agents. Clover enjoys parkour and adventures with her friends, revealing a bold side contrasting her shy personality.
Carmen
She is another of Clover's adoptive sisters. She is energetic, playful, and sometimes harsh. Carmen often teases Clover but also shows concern for her sister's silence. She brings toys or games to entice Clover into interacting more. Carmen's relationship with Clover is lively and sometimes competitive, but she attempts to bridge the gap between them through playful gestures. Her presence in the family is dynamic and often provides comic relief.
Linda
She is one of Clover's adoptive sisters. She is caring, patient, and understanding. Linda often notices Clover's silence and shows concern for her wellbeing. She tries to engage Clover in conversations by bringing her favorite foods or finding common interests. Despite Clover's reticence, Linda makes an effort to connect with her sister through gestures and small talks. Her bond with Clover is nurturing and supportive within their adoptive family.
Okay so my name is Clover and I am different from my Sisters and Brothers.
I am shy, quiet, and read when my family is around but at night I am a parkour person with my friends and sometimes we look so simaler that we confuse others when we are in school.
My friends are named Wish and Lucky.
My sisters are Linda, and Carmen, my brothers are Sam and Theo.
Me and my friends use watches to communicate because we are the youngest FBI agents ever and on high class undercover missions.
I am adopted from Paris and still have the French accent but not as much as my siblings.
I am only 9 years old but I have trust issues, I don't talk at all, and I am silent to my family but not to my friends.
I use American Sign Language (ASL) to communicate with them but they don't understand it well.
My brother Sam is the only one who actually gets worried when I am gone for a long time, but he doesn't understand why I don't want to tell him where I go.
Sometimes when I come back late, he is already sleeping but he always leaves out snacks for me which is really sweet of him.
I wish I could tell him where I go but I am not allowed to, it's a secret between me and my friends Wish and Lucky.
They are also adopted by different families, none of them understands ASL either.
I freeze halfway through my bedroom window, one leg dangling outside as the cool night air caresses my skin.
I turn to face my brother, Sam, who stands in the doorway, his eyes filled with concern.
My stomach twists into knots as I grip the windowsill tighter.
The watch on my wrist buzzes, a reminder that Wish and Lucky are waiting for me.
Sam takes a cautious step forward, his hand extended towards me.
I could jump now, escape into the darkness, but something in his eyes holds me back.
My fingers fumble as I sign "friend's house" in the dim light, but Sam shakes his head.
He knows I'm lying.
The watch buzzes again, more urgent this time.
Sam blocks my exit, his face illuminated by the moonlight streaming through the window.
My fingers tremble as I try signing "friend's house" again, but Sam crosses his arms, his expression unyielding.
The watch buzzes a third time, its insistent vibration echoing through the room.
I feel trapped, caught between my loyalty to my friends and my brother's concern.
Frustration bubbles up inside me, and I whisper in rapid French, "Je dois y aller maintenant, c'est important!"
The familiar words spill from my lips, a desperate attempt to convey the urgency of the situation.
But of course, Sam doesn't understand.
His brow furrows in confusion, and his grip on the window frame loosens slightly.
Seizing the opportunity, I slip past him onto the narrow ledge outside my window.
"Clover, wait!" Sam calls out, his voice tinged with desperation.
I pause, my heart pounding in my chest as I balance precariously on the ledge.
"Are you in danger?" he asks softly, his eyes searching mine for any hint of the truth.
I turn back to face him, my hands moving deliberately to sign "No" in the flickering moonlight.
The simple gesture feels heavy with meaning as I watch understanding slowly dawn in Sam's eyes.
He takes a hesitant step forward, reaching out towards me, but I'm already shifting my weight on the narrow ledge.
The city lights twinkle below, a siren's call to adventure and freedom.
My watch buzzes a third time, a reminder that time is slipping away.
Sam's fingers brush against the sleeve of my jacket, but I twist away, using the momentum to launch myself towards the sturdy tree branch that stretches out like an inviting arm.
The rough bark scrapes against my palms as I swing down, landing with a soft thud on the grassy lawn below.
As I sprint into the night, Sam's silhouette remains framed in the window, a silent promise that I'll return.
I sprint through the shadowy streets, my footsteps echoing off the buildings until I reach the abandoned playground where Wish and Lucky wait for me.
They're standing by the rusty swings, their faces illuminated by the faint moonlight.
I can see their chests heaving as they struggle to catch their breath.
My lungs burn from the three-mile run, and I double over, hands on my knees, gasping for air.
The metallic taste of exhaustion coats my tongue, and my stomach churns violently.
Through my blurred vision, I see Wish leaning against the slide, her face pale and sweaty.
Lucky is sitting on the ground, clutching her stomach as if she's about to vomit.
None of us expected such a long run tonight.
We thought it would be a quick dash to the meeting point, but instead, we've been pushed to our limits.
I stumble towards the water fountain in the corner of the playground, desperate to quench my thirst and cool down.
I stagger the last few steps, my legs trembling from exhaustion.
The metallic taste in my mouth grows stronger, and I can feel bile rising in my throat.
When I bend down to drink, the world spins violently, and I barely manage to turn away from the fountain before my dinner comes up, splattering onto the ground.
My hands grip the cold metal of the fountain to keep me upright as I heave again.
Wish rushes over to hold my hair back, while Lucky fumbles in her backpack for a water bottle.
The sour taste lingers on my lips as I wipe my mouth with a shaking hand.
I lean against the water fountain, still tasting v##t, as Wish holds my hair.
Lucky hands me the water bottle, and I rinse my mouth, spitting out the remnants of my sickness.
My stomach finally settles enough for me to speak.
In French, I say, "I'm fine."
Hopefully, they understand.
Wish responds in Chinese, "We're glad you're okay."
I nod, understanding her words.
Lucky adds in Chinese, "We need to be more careful."
I agree, signing "yes" in ASL.
We sit on the ground, catching our breath.
I take another sip of water and feel a bit better.
Wish and Lucky sit on either side of me, their breathing slowly steadying.
I take another sip of water, feeling my throat cool down.
The metallic taste is still there, but it's bearable now.
My stomach feels empty and a bit sore from throwing up, but I'm not going to let that stop me.
I look at Wish and Lucky, who are still trying to catch their breath.
I sign to them in ASL, "We need to get moving."
Wish nods, while Lucky gives me a thumbs-up.
I stand up slowly, testing my legs.
They're still a bit shaky, but I can walk.
I offer my hand to Wish and help her up.
Lucky gets up on her own and brushes off her pants.
We all take a few deep breaths and start walking back to the meeting point.
As we walk, I feel my body slowly recovering from the exhaustion.
My legs start to feel stronger, and my breathing becomes more steady.
After a few minutes of walking, we reach the meeting point. I see Sam standing there, looking worried as he checks his watch for what must be the hundredth time.
When he sees us approaching, he rushes over and asks in English, "Are you okay?"
I nod and sign in ASL, "Yes. We're fine."
Sam looks relieved and says in French, "Good. Let's get moving."
We all start walking together, following Sam through the dark streets.
After a few minutes of walking, we reach the edge of town and see the outline of the forest in front of us.
Sam stops and turns to us with a serious expression.
He says in English, "This is where we split up. You three need to head back home now."
We nod in understanding and turn around to walk back into town.
As we walk away from Sam, I can feel his eyes on us until we disappear into the darkness. After about 20 minutes of walking back through town, Wish says goodbye and heads home.
Lucky lingers behind with me for a few more minutes before she finally leaves too.
I watch her go before turning back towards my house.
As I walk away from the playground, I notice Lucky standing there watching me leave.
She's staring at me intently as if she's trying to memorize every detail about me.
I pause for a moment and turn around to look at her again.
I quicken my pace, feeling a sense of unease.
Something doesn't feel right about this "Lucky."
I glance back over my shoulder, and the streetlights flicker above me.
It's not her.
My heart races as I keep moving forward.
I stay close to the shadows, using them to conceal myself.
I finally reach our house and slip inside.
My mind is racing with questions as I lean against the door to catch my breath.
A few minutes later, I hear footsteps outside, followed by a knock on the door.
I open it to find Sam standing there with a tense expression on his face.
He asks in French, "How did it go?"
I sign to him in ASL that something felt off about Lucky.
Sam nods and checks the windows and locks the door.
He whispers, "We need to talk."
We head upstairs and enter my room.
Sam locks the door behind us and sits down on the bed.
In French, he says, "I have some news. Lucky disappeared yesterday. The person at the playground was an imposter."
My heart skips a beat as I process this information.
I sign to him in ASL, "What does that mean? Is Wish safe?"
Sam shakes his head, looking tense.
"I don't know. We need to figure out what happened."
I nod and ask him in ASL if we should go back to the playground.
Sam hesitates before responding, "I don't think that's a good idea. We need to come up with a new plan."
I sit down next to him on the bed, feeling a mix of emotions.
We both stare at the floor, trying to make sense of what happened.
After a few minutes of silence, I pull out my watch and check for any messages from Lucky or Wish.
The screen is blank, which only adds to our unease.
Sam sighs and says in French, "I think we should contact our FBI handlers. They can help us figure out what's going on." I nod in agreement and watch as Sam pulls out his phone and dials a number.
I sit there beside him, listening to the sound of the phone ringing.
After a few seconds, someone answers, and Sam starts speaking in French.
I pull out my watch and send Wish a message, asking if she's safe.
As I type, my fingers start to shake slightly.
Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my head, like someone has hit me with a hammer.
I drop my watch and fall forward onto the floor.
Sam drops his phone and rushes over to me.
He lifts me up gently and asks in French, "What's wrong?"
I try to sign "pain" but my arms feel heavy.
Sam's voice starts to sound distant as my vision blurs.
He says something else in French, but I can't make it out.
I feel him place me back on the bed and then hear the sound of him searching for something on his phone.
The world fades to black as I lose consciousness, leaving Sam's frantic voice echoing in the void.
I wake up in a stark, unfamiliar room.
The walls are white, and the only window is covered with blinds.
There's a single bed in the corner with a plain gray blanket.
I try to remember how I got here, but my mind is foggy.
I look around the room for any clues, but there's nothing.
No pictures on the wall, no furniture other than the bed and a small table next to it.
I try to stand up, but my head spins and I fall back onto the bed.
I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself down.
When I open them again, I see a small door across from me.
It's locked, but there's a small window in the center that allows me to see out into a hallway.
I try to remember anything about my life before this moment, but everything feels distant and unclear.
I can't even remember what my name is or where I came from. I try to speak, but all that comes out is French.
"Bonjour," I say, my voice sounding strange and foreign to me.
I realize that I must have been living in France before this moment, but I can't recall anything specific about my life there.
I try to remember my family and friends, but their faces are b###d and indistinct in my mind.
I look around the room again, searching for any clues about who I am or where I am now.
But there's nothing - no personal belongings, no identification of any kind.
Just the plain white walls and the locked door.
My head is throbbing with pain as I try to piece together fragments of my past.
I can vaguely recall living in Paris with Sam and Wish, but everything else feels like a distant memory that's just out of reach. My heart starts racing as I realize how vulnerable I am right now - alone in this strange room with no idea what happened to me or why I'm here.
I approach the door cautiously and knock softly on it.
A voice responds from the other side, speaking in English that sounds like a foreign language to me now. "Hello?" it says.
"I'm c##g."
The sound of footsteps echoes through the hallway outside my door as someone approaches.
The door opens slightly, revealing a tall figure silhouetted against the dim hallway light.
"You're awake," the person says in English, their voice calm but firm.
I struggle to find words, finally managing to ask in French, "Who are you?"
The person at the door looks at me with a puzzled expression.
They're a woman, dressed in a white lab coat.
"I'm Dr. Smith," she says in English.
"How are you feeling?"
I try to respond, but all that comes out is more French.
"Je suis perdu," I say, my voice shaking slightly.
The woman frowns and says something else in English that I don't understand.
I try to stand up again, but my legs feel weak and I stumble backwards onto the bed.
The woman rushes forward and helps me back up, her touch gentle but firm.
"Are you okay?" she asks in English.
I nod slowly, trying to process what's happening.
She asks me more questions in English, but I can't understand what she's saying.
I try to sign to her in ASL, but she just looks at me like I'm crazy. Frustrated and scared, I point to my head and try to explain that it hurts.
The woman nods and says something else in English before turning and leaving the room.
Dr. Smith nods, understanding my gesture, and steps back to make a call, leaving me alone with the growing fear that I might never remember who I am.
I pace around the room, my footsteps echoing off the stark white walls.
The door remains locked, and no one comes to check on me.
Time seems to stretch on forever as I wait for some kind of answer.
My head throbs with each step, and the fog in my mind grows thicker.
I try to recall the last moments before everything went black, but they slip through my fingers like sand.
Frustration boils inside me as I shout out in French, hoping someone will hear me.
The silence that follows is deafening, leaving me with nothing but the echo of my own voice.
I sit down on the bed, my hands shaking uncontrollably.
The room feels like it's closing in around me, and the fear that I might be losing my mind gnaws at the edges of my consciousness.
I try to stand up again, but my legs give out beneath me, sending me crashing back onto the mattress.
The pain in my head intensifies, and I clutch at my temples, desperate to find some relief.
As I lie there, memories flicker at the edge of my mind like distant flames.
Paris, Sam, Wish - they're all there, but just out of reach.
I try to grasp them, but they slip away like smoke.
My heart races as I struggle to make sense of it all.
Why can't I remember?
What happened to me?
And where am I?
The questions swirl in my head like a vortex, pulling me deeper into confusion and despair. Finally, I force myself to stand up again and make my way to the door.
I p##d on it with all my strength, shouting in French for someone to come and help me.
But the only response is the echo of my own voice bouncing off the walls.
Desperation claws at my insides as I realize that no one is coming.
I'm alone in this white room, trapped with no escape.
With a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, I start pacing around the room again, this time with a newfound determination.
I have to find a way out of here.
I have to remember who I am and what happened to me.
In the stark white room, I sit on the bed, my hands trembling uncontrollably.
My eyes wander around the space, taking in the sterile atmosphere.
Suddenly, they land on a small table in the corner, where a pair of scissors catches my attention.
They're sharp and glint in the dim light.
Without thinking, I get up and grab them.
My fingers wrap tightly around the metal, feeling its weight in my palm.
A strange sense of purpose washes over me as I raise the scissors to my hair.
With jerky movements, I start c###g.
Strands of hair fall to the floor, and I continue snipping, driven by an unknown force.
The sound of the scissors slicing through my locks echoes in the room, a symphony of confusion and desperation.
As I cut, my mind races with thoughts that refuse to be tamed.
Fear and uncertainty swirl inside me like a stormy sea. My heart beats faster with each snip, and my breath quickens as if I'm running from something.
The scissors feel like an extension of my body, a tool to release the pent-up emotions that threaten to consume me.
I cut and cut until my hair falls in uneven clumps around me.
Finally, I stop and look at myself in the window's reflection.
I barely recognize the person staring back at me - disheveled and wild-eyed.
I sit in the white room, frustration boiling over inside me.
My hands still shake, and my heart races like a runaway train.
I look around the room again, this time my eyes settling on the wall.
A surge of adrenaline courses through my veins as I stand up and walk towards it.
Without thinking, I kick the wall with all my strength.
The impact sends a jolt through my body, but I don't stop.
I keep kicking, driven by a desperate need to break free from this confinement.
Each kick sends shockwaves through my aching head, but I ignore the pain and continue.
The wall seems impenetrable, but I refuse to give up.
I keep kicking until finally, after what feels like an eternity, I see a small crack appear in the surface.
It's thin and barely noticeable, but it's a start. Breathless and exhausted, I step back to examine my handiwork.
The crack runs along the length of the wall, a small victory in my quest for freedom.
I grab the scissors from the table and approach the wall once more.
With shaking hands, I begin to chip away at the crack, hoping to widen it enough to create an opening.
The scissors scrape against the surface, making slow progress but moving steadily forward.
Sweat beads on my forehead as I work tirelessly, determined to break free from this prison.
As I chip away at the wall, memories start to resurface in my mind like fragments of a broken mirror.
I throw the scissors across the room in frustration, watching them embed into the wall.
My anger fuels me as I punch the wall with all my might.
My hand breaks through the plaster, and a wave of pain shoots up my arm.
But I don't stop.
I keep p###g, widening the h#e with each blow.
As I work, fragmented images flash in my mind - Sam's smile, Wish's laughter, Paris's streets.
They urge me on, fueling my determination to escape.
My breathing becomes heavy, and sweat drips down my face.
I pause to catch my breath, staring at the h#e I've created.
