SOO… this is my fist song fic. It's to Kelly Clarkson's Breakaway. I own nothing except my imagination, hope you like it!

Dedicated to ispksarcasm who got me hooked on the series! Ily!

Here goes nothing!!!!!

grew up in a small town

And when the rain would fall down

I'd just stare out my window

I flinched as the white coats walked into the room where our dog crates were kept. Pressed against the back of my crate, I watched as they unlocked the crate next to mine.

The other little boy with black hair and I couldn't help watching as the white coat reached into the cage and pulled out a struggling boy. He was crying and pleading,

But the white coats never show mercy.


Dreaming of what could be

And if I end up happy

I would pray

The man slapped the little blonde boy across the face, and stunned him into silence.

As he was dragged from the room, his blue eyes met mine.

His face pleading. I could see the red hand mark on his face when he turned away.

I started to cry,

For me,

For him,

For the other boy in the crate across from me.

Wanted to belong here

But something felt so wrong here

So I pray

I could breakaway

I was awoken from my sleep when the door opened, and a different white coat came in,

Pushing the crying boy in towards his crate. His wings were tied down to his back, and his hands were out in front of him as he looked around frantically. Tears falling fast from his eyes.

The blonde boy tripped on the edge of his crate and fell in face first. The white coat locked it behind him.

That night, a white coat came and opened our crates.

We left them cautiously, the blonde one crawled on the ground, feeling the floor in front of him. What had they done to him?

I opened my wings slowly, and the dark haired boy did too.

I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly

I'll do what it takes 'till I touch the sky

Make a wish, take a chance, make a change

And breakaway

The white coat called himself Jeb. Then he called me Maximum. The little boy with black hair was called Fang. And Jeb picked up the other little boy and called him Iggy.

Then, carrying Iggy, and holding Fang's hand, he ushered us out the doors. Fang grabbed my hand too, so I wouldn't be left behind.

After years of terror and pain, we were leaving this place. And hopefully, we were never coming back.

Jeb returned to ore house one day with three more little kids. These were babies. There was a toddler, a baby, and one looked like she was just born. They were welcomed to our family of outcasts and escapees.

It looked like we were finally free.