Aren't you scared of becoming a slave to freedom?
As a 17 year old girl whose mother abused her, Naomi has never known what freedom is, only dreamt of it. But now it's her only constant thought. For her, freedom slowly becomes a drug, something she...
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I've been standing for what seems like hours and so far all that's happened is the hall getting more and more crowded. My feet start aching from all the standing. I sigh tiredly, I hope this whole thing ends quickly.
Luckily, a few minutes later the hall is packed and the doors are closed shut and I hear loud beeps. That must mean the doors are also locked. Just then the speakers mounted on various parts in the hall switch on and a female voice sounds from them.
"Good Afternoon everyone, I am only going to explain this once so listen up. I will be calling numbers on this mic. Those who have the number I call, must move through the crowd towards the set of doors on the left side of the hall and follow the orders they're given from that point on. Now let's begin. All the Number 1s, head to the doors." the female voice says in a commanding tone.
Number 1s? Who are they? Who am I? I roll my eyes at the last question that flows through my head. A better way to ask that is which number am I. I look around the hall and try to eavesdrop on the conversations of those mumbling around me. But from what I can tell they are as clueless as me.
My heart beats loudly in my chest as my brain starts overthinking. Thinking of all the possible outcomes. One of them being, me being a number 1 and getting shot for being too incompetent. My eyes narrow and my eyebrows frown at that outcome. I don't like it. My lips press together into a thin line. I don't like it at all.
The speakers switch on again, saving me from any more gruesome thoughts. My expression clears and I look up at one of the speakers. "Excuse me." the woman says. The mumbling in the hall dies out instantly.
"Pay attention to what I'm about to say. To identify which number you are, just simply check the left bottom corner of whatever clothing you're wearing. It will have your number engraved on it. Now Number 1s, move along.'' The speakers switch off and I see a trio of boys move towards the door. They stand there for a while before the doors open and they disappear behind the doors.
"Number 2s" the speaker announces. I quickly check my hoodie. I'm number 142. I let out a soft groan. Well this is going to be one long wait.
As it turns out I'm not the only one who thought it'd be long, as some of the people around me start to sit down on the black tiles. I shrug mentally, it wouldn't hurt to sit down too. I sit down on the tiles. At first the coldness hurts my butt but after a while I'm able to get comfortable and the cold doesn't hurt anymore.
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