Pleasure's Experiment

Chapter 2 (Steve's POV)

There was light flashing. Screaming and wailing mothers. There was running and panic. It seemed that everywhere I went with her, there was always an aura of fear. It wasn't her fault. What she was told was the safest place was usually the safest to get to. It was one refugee camp to the next. Each place was the same. Nothing more than crumbling walls and linoleum floor. If you were lucky or paid more, you were given a bed raised off the floor with some blankets. We were only lucky once. I got to sleep in the bed. But we were only there for 3 months. It was a horrible three months. I couldn't dream and she says I would say " I'm falling. I'm taking my time on my ride." The place was bombed. We left the day before because the food supply was cut off. We left all of our things and had to start from square one. But finally, finally, we reached it. The government household. Nothing more than a supersized refugee camp but we were given necessities. She went in and registered us. We were given shots and separated. I was sent to a dorm-like place. There was a hall with different room and within the rooms were three sets of bunk beds. Each bed was made perfectly and my name was set up on a top bunk. Beige sheets, beige mattress, beige walls. The only thing that was different colors were the black and white travel sized things. Some toothpaste, deodorants, toothbrushes, things like that. There was nothing that separated us. Everyone's hair was shaven off. I'm guessing so lice wouldn't spread. White shirts, black pants and beige tennis shoes. The only colorful things was the food and our school supplies. Everyday we took the stairs down, turned a left into our buildings cafeteria and sat in beige chairs. Names were called, children stood and followed the men and women to the rooms on different floors. My name was called. "Steven Galloway." That wasn't how you pronounced Galwai. It was pronounced like Goal and Why together. It didn't matter, they never used your last name usually. I followed the old man. I never liked adults or old people. All seemed bland and unordinary. But once crises occurred, we were all bland and unordinary and mostly scared. But this man, walked with great confidence, taking wide steps with a smile. Such an awful smile. It was as if he had buck teeth long ago but now they were gone. His eyes were filled with excitement as if he was leading us to the future. After taking so many turns and going down many flights of stairs, we arrived to a room. Can you guess what color were the walls and desk and chairs? Beige. I was sick of the color. I was given a green binder with 5 folders and 5 notebooks. One for arithmatics. One for writing. One for sciences. One for history. And one for our sanity. We sat in the beige chairs. The teachers rotated. Instead of us leaving and walking into a new room, teachers took their supplies and moved into different rooms. So we couldn't skip classes. I had never been to school. My whole life was running away from danger. Running away from pain and hurt. But pain and hurt come in many forms. Physical,emotional, hunger, voices in the head. I could tell I wouldn't sleep well here either. Even worse now that my sister wasn't with me. I had never left her. Mom and Dad died in front of us. I didn't know what was going on. "Close your eyes." And then screaming. Gasp and silent tears. I opened my eyes and black bags were being dragged away. Then there was fire and smoke. I was coughing and choking. Tears violently streamed down my face. Angry eyes were crying pain. And then she carried me. I was only four and she was only 16. I was barely walking, tripping over my own feet. But she held me tight and ran. I cried into her shirt as she ran. Bumping up and down furiously and wind blowing against us. We have been to 57 camps in 12 years. Some burned, some closed down, some were attacked. There were billions of reasons to each one. But if we left this one, we were practically winning a lottery ticket and giving it back.Every 3 hours we visit family members. Daina is now 28. All she has is me. Her ex-boyfriend, many years ago proposed. I was happy for her but what he said after " Will you marry me ?" was killing me. "You have to leave him." She was shocked, I was scared. I ran to the corner of my room and gathered my belongings. "She should marry him." I thought. He can save her. I can live on my own. He can take her somewhere safe. I could..... run. As I was opening the gates to leave, I heard her. She was running and I stood still to say goodbye. And we did. Except instead of me leaving, she left. I was alone in the camp. And sleeping was not a daily activity. I was 14. She came back last year to that camp. She said he had died. I felt a pang of hurt. Sure, he caused my only family I had to abandon me and that infuriated me to the brim. But he was like a best friend. We played games and I saw how nice he treated my sister and how much he loved her. I did not ask how he died because that doesn't matter. Humans dropped like flies. And much like flies, people grew to care nothing about why or how they died. I didn't like that. But in world where needs were wishes and wants were fantasies, what I liked or didn't like was as important as dead people. But we left. Then, went to three more camp. And now I was sitting here talking to her about her work. She was in charge of a group of thirteen year olds. Making sure they woke up. That they went to school and that they came back.Although the government camp was a refugee camp in many ways, it looked like a city on the outside. Tall buildings with many windows. Old cars and parks.My sister says that long ago when mom and dad and our grandparents were kids, the world was like this. Huge cities with lights and restaurants and stores. Except this wasn't a city. All adults and kids had a curfew. There was one window in the room I stayed in. As expected, I got little to no sleep. I looked through the window and at 10 pm everyday, all the lights in the camps were turned off. Except one. One light stayed on. Finally at 10:05, it was off. A girl ran out. She reminded me of Diana. She ran steadily but fast. And then she turned down an alley. This was a daily thing. Same girl as far as I could tell.Every night at 10:05 pm. I didn't make much sound walking to the window. The first time I tried to walk to it, I got in trouble. The oldest guy there, about 19, woke up and yelled at because I woke him up. Now, in the mornings, I walk slower to figure out which pieces of floor creaked the most. One day, she turned around. I waved. She saw me and waved back. I did this everyday and it comforted me. At least someone here cared about me in this dying world. The other guys teased me when we came from school. "How's your girlfriend, Galloway?" they yelled. I didn't care.