You enter that first day with the weapons and skills you think you will need. You meet the guards; a series of people far older than you that couldn't possibly understand. And the others. They tell you that it is for your benefit, but you're not so sure. Only a select few benefit from this. The strongest, the smartest. As for the others, all they gain is fear. That is, those who survive to see the day they are freed. Some simply opt out. They'd rather not exist at all than be there. The guards will make a show of them, for the sole reason of making sure no others follow. Those who are not given food by their sponsors have to eat the provided mush. Even when you are away from the horror, it is always on your mind, the things they make you do.
You can see groups forming from day one. For those lucky enough to find a group, it may make this easier. For those who do not, they are assured an even more horrific time. And, once you finish, you are never truly free, for it is only when you find the light at the end of the tunnel that you realize it is only a lantern leading you onward to an even ore treacherous portion of the cavern.
This is not the thunder dome, this is not the hunger games. It is not a prison for the evil, a camp for the wrongly accused.
This is high school. And it is something you will never truly escape.
YOU ARE READING
Pink hats and Pussy cats
PoetryThe mind of a teenaged girl is one not routinely delved into in literature. Literature is written by ladies and men. Not girls. But that's about to change. We're loud, we're opinionated, and we will not be ignored.
