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The Lake District was once a haven for all manner of things; humans, nature and inspiration...

There was never a single moment in time in which the humans had poisoned the water. 

Very much a liquid gold in present, water used to be chucked away, carelessly like the business men of old with their paper thin money or the spoiled rich kids, who'd puke up the average man's monthly salary in one glittering blurred evening. 

Blood dripped from the eye sockets of 1st world people as they became blind zombies of the media. Bewitching adverts made us bring our hands to our own necks, threatening death if we couldn't have what we wanted. 

And that was only the beginning.

When man finally destroyed the forests the world went wickedly sour. With no pure liquid kept safe by the kind roots of the plants, harmful toxic water vapour was dragged up into the air by the atmosphere in desperation.

 H2O? Torn to pieces. We ripped apart a substance that was fluid, that shouldn't have been able to break. 

Water never stopped running from us, reader.

Writers stopped writing with their inspiration shriveled to dust. Beatrix Potter never finished Peter Rabbit's Tale. And, like Beatrix's inspiration, expression fell too. People focused inwards. With no good reason to look out at their dying world.

However, less developed countries suffered the most. After dehydration had finished grating throats and making tectonic plates of skin, Cholera heaved out every last drop of stinging liquid that was left behind. Eventually Death showed a little pity and rescued them. 

If the people had survived the diseases, neighbouring countries would offer them a place of safety, providing they agreed to work for them - details were to be specified later.

Following the water was the oxygen next. Factories coughed up dust balls like mangy cats - choking on their own substance. Oxygen tanks were introduced and the government finally banned all nature, saying that the human race should be punished and taught to value once again.

Of course, the only way for them to earn the forgiveness of mother earth would to be to work- to try and coexist with her. Or her spirit anyway. There was barely any nature left at all. 

And so, the word Purifier was given to the people in The District of Lakes in England who had survived the collapse, and would work not only to purify the water, but themselves as well.

*

Mould. Rotting leftovers. Sharp leather.

Kate could smell it all as she found herself running once again. This time from her mother. Before she could reach the top stairs wires protruded from her cheeks like a needle piercing holes in her skin. Useless breaths turned to rapid panting.

"Kate. Come back! I didn't know they'd hurt you," her mother called in desperation.

Drifting in and out of consciousness like a seasick sailor, Kate wedged the door of her bedroom shut with a chair. 

Steadying herself on the wooden frame of her mirror, she recoiled at the site of her face. 

The skin around her eyes was orange in colour and it was spreading down to her nose, accompanied by a burning sensation. As she brought her hands up to her face to scratch it off the orange seeped onto her fingertips like paint. The door moved under pressure from her mother on the other side of the room. 

A breathing door noticed Kate incredulously. Then the contents of the room seemed to run away from her. Kate's limps snapped, so she fell to the floor.

*

Regaining consciousness, the fox leapt onto Kate's bed, ready to hurt her own vixen mother, who sat outside her door.

"Please listen,"' tried her mother when she heard the clatter of what sounded like her daughter. 

The fox heard her sorrowful breathing, contained within the oxygen mask. This served only to irritate the fox, exceedingly so. In jealousy Kate bolted to the door, bashing against it, with the hope that she would leave. Had the wall not been there she surely would've lashed out at her mother. 

Still Charlotte refused to go. "You have understand I couldn't deny the government." 

*

Hours must've passed whilst the fox sat by, drifting in and out of sleep. 

After a while the sweet perfume from her mother seeped through the door; irritating her nostrils like the smell of petrol would if you had wished for fresh air. Her claws protruded from her paws as slits of raven knives. The fox started for the door again and struck it. 

But the infuriating smell began to set alight Kate's temporal lobe in her brain.

Kate recalled her mother trading her oxygen tokens for that artificially made perfume. Charlotte couldn't even smell it through the oxygen mask, the ridiculousness of her purchase had filled the fox with the warmth.

The orange and white fur that now surrounded the fox on the floor inspired that very feeling of warmth and fires in her mind again. As if she'd stood too close by a flame and her fur had been burnt off.

Kate felt her mind clear as she was lifted from the ground by her changing height. Smells and sounds flowed away, through the walls and back to their designated objects.

Kate pretended to sigh in relief, as if the movement of air through her nasal tubes was natural for her body still. Claws retracted back into her hands. 

Re-dressing herself she pressed her ears against the door. Leisurely breathing. 

Her fingers glazed across the deep gashes in the barrier's metal surface. 

You're a monster. 

The thought was lightning fast but still revived an fear and guilt in her stomach. Maybe Tom was right. She felt the transformation was more real this time around. 

When Kate was in the Forest Facility it was like a nightmare and a falsity. Though in her own house, the reality was undeniable and harmful.

As gently as could possibly be achieved with shaking hands, she slid the chair from the door and left her room. Facing Kate was her mother. Her head was lent against the aged wallpaper to confirm Kate's suspicions of her slumber.

Charlotte's betrayal of her own daughter did not show on the mother's peaceful face. Kate wanted to be angry at her, and the government too but was exhausted. So she stepped over her mother, with leaking tears. 

Her heart wasn't in this house anymore, only a small piece of it could remain, butchered and shredded.

Having not revisited her mother's room properly since the abduction, curiosity caught the cat, as they used to say. Or was it living that caught them, like a bear trap? If the cat didn't live than curiosity was non-existent.

Kate walked across the landing and into a room where the windows hung open, the morning breeze hummed and her tears dried. They were just shadows now. 

The wooden flooring creaked under the weight of a human. As well as the heavy wardrobe that was positioned so that it faced Charlotte's bed.

She was never permitted to open her mother's wardrobe. "You'll find out when you're 15," Kate's mother had told her. The stubborn young  girl had yelled and stamped her feet in response to this restriction.

The bottom of it was always coated in a dangerous acidic green. In turn giving the wardrobe the appearance of a failed magician, their magic vanishing cloths swinging conspicuously from their back pocket.

Kate peeked around the edges of the wardrobe to find some of the contents swinging slightly inside. There were two oxygen masks- spares in case of accidental loss or purpose failure.

Next to them a metal carcass stood. A suit of armour? No. Those were melted down a while ago. 

Bulbous metal adorned the body joints, connected by millions of tiny metal screws. The head was full of glass holes like the eyes of a wolf spider. On the left shoulder it read Purifier Aquarist 143. 

Kate felt as if it could reach out to grab her; it's metal hands crushing her skull in one second. The green-y yellow like substance dripped from the suit- remnants of the last victim. Kate stumbled back in horror.

The bump had stirred her mother from her slumber. So the girl quickly swiped the oxygen masks from the hangers, ran down the stairs and out of the door.

Looking back at her house a final time, she disappeared into the morning mist. 

The cogs of her mind clicked rapidly. The mother Kate knew never would have jumped inside that thing willingly, but she must have done so. Kate now knew a little more about what her training lessons consisted of, that would've begun when she was 15 years of age - had she not been stolen.

The Purifiers. She was determined to find out what the people were forced to do in aid of the government. So that she could ruin them. 

Trudging towards the boathouse, Kate couldn't question whether Tom would be there or not. She didn't want to face being alone. 

A silhouette appeared from out of the mist, walking towards Kate. So Kate attached the mask to her face before they could suspect anything was wrong. The woman with auburn hair eyed her suspiciously, saying nothing as they crossed paths. 

When her footsteps quietened Kate walked faster, knowing that the women could easily turn back and discover that Kate was missing an oxygen tank.

*

She knew the way to the boathouse well. The four of them: Kate, Tom, Jasmine and Flynn would all meet there when they were younger. If Jasmine and Flynn saw Kate now, she was sure that they'd think she was a monster too.

The thought brought her to a halt and her brain wondered if Tom thought the same. Was she to go it alone? Kate forcefully pushed the thought away. 

The hand that abruptly latched onto her shoulder surely meant she wasn't alone at all.  Kate flinched and turned around to find Charlotte looking at her. 

"Kate, why won't you just listen to me?" she asked.

"Go away, " Kate growled, stepping backwards away from her.

"Not unless you come back home with me. We can sort this out," her mother said eyeing the decoy oxygen mask. The stubbornness of the Marsh family seemed to be in the family genes, no matter how modified they were.

"No. Don't you see? I'm not home there. I'm not what I was. I can't come back there until I can punish the government for this." Her mother wore an unrecognisable expression. It was as if she didn't know her own daughter. 

Kate took this momentary resignation as a que to turn and leave. This time she didn't look back. The houses she walked past were washed in watercolour by the mist.

Before her brain had time to question if seeing Tom again would be beneficial her legs had carried her there, extremely fast. 

The boathouse was one of the only buildings that still had a wooden door, which could barely be seen through the morning fog. Kate might have even fallen off the rickety wooden bridge and into the water if she hadn't visited the boathouse so often when she was younger. 

She tried to compose herself. Readjusting her mask, both the one she wore over her face and the one over her heart.

Hey. Sorry it's late I have AS levels on atm. Please like and comment to let me know if you're reading this story and enjoying it. - hippywitch