chapter 1

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I'm not a morning person. Not very many people here are because we all know what a new morning can bring, it can bring hard laborious work, it can bring beatings and pain (emotional and physical), death, also looking through the pain and finding hope... What I see that the others don't is that hope dwindling every day, knowing that I will never get out, knowing my life will never matter, and never know who I really am or what my real name is besides that God forsaken number I'm called day after day...
         I've been here my whole life. Born here, raised here, and will probably die here. I never knew my parents, or my birth name I'm referred to as worker 3372. Every day of my life has been started the same way, a searing, blinding light followed by the shouts of the guards telling us to 'get off your lazy ass' when I can guarantee they've never worked as hard I have in their sorry lives. They line us against the wall and frisk every worker down in case we got and 'ideas' in the night. Then they march us outside into lines to salute the national flag of the river. They raised the white flag with gold tendrils snaking through the fabric around the edges. It had a faint golden aura as it shone in the sun it was beautiful, except for the blood red star that plagued the image.
        The government tells us that it represents new life and a thriving economy but that's the exact opposite to what it actually represents us... I'm an 'unfortunate' as the government calls which is just fancy for 'slave'. We are the descendents of the enemy. The white and the gold represent the fortunate, their perfect lives, their perfect heritage, their money. The morning star represents the people who don't have a choice, it represents the tarnished image the government tries to call perfect, it shows the blood of my own that the government slaughtered as an example. The government blames us for everything.'Oh there was an earthquake, looks like it's the unfortunates fault'. I hate that star. I want to burn it...

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