Edit | #Wattys2016

Eleven

I see Carmen crouch in front of me. "Amber-Corinne-whatever, get up. Stop doing this," she says as her brow furrows, her tone urgent.

I'm sitting on a floor somewhere, somehow, and I just want to close my eyes and let this nightmare they call Edit pass.

"The Black Hole has locked down, for goodness' sake, so please get up. There's one more thing we need to show you. If you're not coming, so be it," Carmen says, and gets to her feet.

I close my eyes. Those people down here are ruining their own lives every single second they live it. I understand that Edit wants the system to keep going, but this is a terrible, cruel way.

And I need to stop it.

Spurred on with this determination, I push myself up, running after Carmen. She disappears through a series of doors, twisting and turning down hallways with white and gray walls, no pictures but touchscreens, filled with codes and diagrams I can't comprehend. Carmen studies each one carefully before turning down some hallway and I follow her, glancing around me, trying to make sense of where I am, what I'm doing here...

I'm so thoroughly confused, stuck in the Black Hole. I've only been here for a day, but it feels like so long.

Finally, Carmen slows down, her dirty blonde hair falling out of her loose braid. A few people I don't know stand by a wooden oak door, guns held at the ready.

"Carmen," a man nods at her, and she returns the gesture, before looking over her shoulder and spotting me. Pointing at me with her knuckle, she says, "new one. Got to let her see what she's going to go through. Want to make her emotionally prepared." She winces. "I don't want the Adams case replaying."

All the soldiers-I presume they're that-visibly flinch. Adams? Are they talking about Chance? What happened to him? Why are the sirens blasting?

The guy nods, before pressing a flat button on the near wall and the oak door lifts, proving the knob to be useless, a trick. I'll bet there's an alarm on that.

"Come on," Carmen says, before walking over and ducking through the door. I follow suit, although my instinct tells me something is definitely not right.

"Oh stars-" I turn away once I get into the next room.

I know there's a glass panel separating us, and that I'm not the only one in that hallway, but...

"These are what we call drafts," Carmen says, not seeming affected.

Taking a deep breath, I turn around, and resist the urge to scream.

People, looking frail and weak, dressed in light blue scrubs stand on the other side of the glass panel. And they're moaning, screaming, the noise so terrifying that I want to curl up into a ball and yell. Their eyes are milky and some don't even have pupils. Those with hair look like dolls, and I'm so terrified I just want to get out of here.

Some of them have blue skin, some pink or purple, all different tones. Oh stars, is this what happened to my parents?

"The scientists test the first eye colors and hair colors here," Carmen says, "using blood. However, there's a high fatal risk, so we always need new drafts."

My blood runs cold. "What happens to those who stay?"

"They continue to be drafts until their time is up," Carmen replies like it's nothing.

Oh stars, don't they ever realize how cruel that is? Hate and rage and something that feels like pity blossoms in my heart. Right now, I want nothing but to destroy the whole Edit system.