Thriving in The Dark [(TDM) ENG]

IV

That girl's name was Claire and, as I assumed, she was 13 years old. She sat me down on her bed and told me how they had brought her inside the camp. "I remember my first day here very well," Claire began, "The camp was much smaller and had far fewer cabins. I was the first one to be brought in here, and I stayed in this shack completely alone and lost until the next day, when Elise and Marcy came in." she turned in the direction of the two girls to show them to me "Then the cabin started to fill up." she paused and took a breath, then continued "It used to be so much different. They would bring in dozens and dozens of kids every day, while now just a couple every other day. We had a lot more freedom before. We Yellows could move around and interact more with other colors, which is strictly forbidden now. I think with all the incidents and breakout attempts, the PSFs decided to sort things out."

She was part of the first wave of infections; the camp had just been opened when, a year and a half before, her parents brought her inside. At that time, few parents refused to send their children to the camps since they thought they would really receive the treatment and be out in a few months, as the government had promised. No one knew what really happened inside the electric fence.

Claire then told me how she miraculously escaped the human experimentation program run by Leda, and how several of our other roommates had not been as lucky as her. She told me that the program lasted about a year, and that all the subjects who survived the experiments were returned to their old cabins with shaved heads, huge scars and lifeless faces.

Finally, as if the memory of the past had disturbed her enough, she went on and listed all the rules that had to be followed at the camp. From the tone of her voice and the confidence with which she pronounced each word, I knew she had done the exact same thing with all the girls who had come before me. I was amazed to hear all the rules imposed by the PSFs. If I had not yet sensed all the hatred of those people, at that moment I understood.

We could not run, talk outside the cabin or when the lights were off, react to the PSFs' taunts, or even look them in the eye. We could not hug each other or even have any kind of physical contact, leave the

cabins unsupervised by the PSFs and form any kind of emotional bond with the other kids. Any transgression would have resulted in a terrible punishment.

But most importantly, it was absolutely forbidden to use our "freak abilities", even by accident.

"About a year ago," Claire told me, "a girl from our cabin, Kate, was executed in front of everyone for accidentally causing a blackout throughout the whole camp. They rounded us all up under the control tower and shot her, like at the scaffold. They told us they did it to 'teach us a lesson.' None of us ever recovered after that day," then she turned to look at me and took my hands in hers "Lillian, please be careful. We are not like the Greens or the Blues, we are the dangerous ones. The reason the PSFs treat us this way is because they are afraid of us, more than the others. And fear brings out the worst in people. I know it sounds bad, but in order to survive you must not give them reasons to be afraid. Maybe then they will leave you alone." the lights suddenly went out, leaving us in the dark. Claire gently caressed my shoulder and whispered to me to go find a bed and sleep.

Almost as if in a trance-like state, I walked over to one of the few vacant beds and sat down, my lungs gasping for air. It was too much, too much to digest in a single day.

When it felt like I was about to collapse, I started massaging my elbow with circular thumb motions, just as Mom used to do to soothe me every time I went to cry in her arms, years back.

I would adapt to that, too, as I had always done.

The first night at the camp was perhaps one of the worst. All the other girls seemed... calm? No, they were simply used to it. They all seemed cold from the moment I had crossed the door of cabin number six. No one but Claire seemed to notice my presence.

But I reminded myself that that reality was just as bad for them as it was for me. Maybe experience had taught them not to trust, or they had simply adapted to that life by creating a thick shield around them to protect themselves from pain. Maybe I would have learned to do that, too.

I could hear someone snoring and tossing around in bed, but what struck me most was the silence from outside. Every now and then I could hear seeping through the cracks in the wood of the wall next to my bed —as well as the icy, sharp air of winter— the sound of footsteps on the mud and the cheerful whistling of every soldier who passed by to guard the outside of the cabins. After all, what could they know?

The very thin blanket I had at my disposal was not enough to keep me warm. My coat had been taken off of me before I woke up in the infirmary, so I was only wearing my white shirt. They made me wear it to identify me, to brand me as an animal.

Even though I was freezing, I wanted to rip it off me and tear it into a thousand pieces. Everyone lied to me, everyone. Even Mom. I trusted her so much when she started acting normal again. I thought she started to love me again and that everything would go back to the way it was. And when I least expected it, she betrayed me.

I didn't expect anything from my father, but he must have known about the Collection too, so why didn't he at least come to say goodbye?

I felt tears rise to the surface but I held them back, not wanting to let go even at that moment.

That would be my new reality, whether I liked it or not, so I would have to hang in there and be strong. I couldn't let go—not so soon.

I thanked God that I happened to be in the bottom bunk. The mattress of the girl above me sheltered me from the drops of water seeping in from the ceiling, a small consolation.

I felt selfish at the thought; Mom would certainly not have approved. But what could I do? Ask her to switch places with me?

I smiled and turned around, burying my face in the pillow.

The rest of the night passed exhaustingly slowly. I tried to toss and turn to find a comfortable position, but the mattress was so stiff that my back ached.

I tried to fall asleep any way I could, but every time I did, an instinct I didn't know I had forced me to wake up. It was torture not to have an alarm clock to look at to realize the passing of time.

When I accepted the fact that it was going to be a sleepless night, I started to think. How long are we going to sleep? Who will wake us up? But most importantly, what will we do once we are awake?

My questions were interrupted by the rumbling of my stomach. I suddenly remembered when Mom recommended that I put lots of food in my backpack for school. I also remembered that they had probably taken that from me as well, along with the coat.

Maybe Mom thought they would let us eat on the way to the camp. And maybe they really would have let me, if I hadn't passed out from that deafening noise. I wondered if the other children in the garden also heard that noise as much as I did.

I thought maybe, if I had been awake, they would have taken me somewhere else. Somewhere nicer and more comfortable than this. Or maybe they would have taken me somewhere uglier, although I doubted there was anything worse than Thurmond.

Lost in my thoughts, I did not notice that I slowly slipped into a deep sleep, along with most of my roommates.