I can't believe I'm still here.
It's like everything is going on around me like I'm in VR, they interact with me when I interact with them. I'm not here. I'm writing this from the loud classroom, I feel lost. Everyone seems lost. These walls are white like hospitals. There's a faint scent of blood as I rest my head on my palm, my story isn't new. Anyone that was my age could tell this story.
My sister is scared of high school because of the stories my friends tell, they are only warning her of the truth. The grown-ups always compare our lives to theirs, our life is different, not any less hard. They say we have a bright future but many I know won't live to grow up. One I lost when I was 4, another mere month ago. I can't believe the things I hear. Their voices. We are one in eight billion, yet we're trapped, trained, taught, and thrown away. Compared to some places our lives are heaven. Yet, we're still in hell. Their lives getting better and ours worse? How is it fair? They've all considered it, death. They're breathing only from failed attempts. The masks, the smile, the desperation to share everything. There are no pink lenses, no silver lining, we're fading, like shadows, swarming with the tide.
YOU ARE READING
Room 89
ParanormalI ran out screaming. I'd broken the barrier, no one had ever survived before. The shadows were angry and wanted revenge. They wouldn't give up. I never thought I'd go back. I couldn't be more wrong. Things in Willowbrook would never be the same.
