Removed

30

 I stare at the pale wall, which seems black in the darkness. A faint snoring sounds beside me and I sigh. Then, I flinch as an arm drapes across my stomach, pulling me closer. Long hair that isn't mine clogs my mouth and I attempt to spit it out.

"Eva," I groan, attempting to push her body off me. This is beyond weird.

I guess you could call this a sleepover. Well, if you were being an optimist. After we ate and chatted, Teresa assigned us places to sleep. She had a spare room for Eva and I while the boys were told to sleep in her parent's old room.

The room is nothing special. The mattress lies against a wall with chipping paint. There isn't a frame, just a mattress. The tile beneath us is surprisingly clean, not a spec of dust to be found. Who knows, maybe Teresa cleans in her free time.

A clock sits beside the bed, red numbers glaring at me. I know it's fueled off battery power since the house no longer has electricity. It doesn't have water, either, so we must ration bottles carefully. No more bathing each day. No more squeaky clean hair or sweet smelling shampoo.

Finally, Eva releases me, turning onto her other side. How she has managed to fall asleep eludes me. Sleep has escaped me as worries haunt me. What if we're caught? What if my friends' blood is on my hands?

The rebellions claim I'm something. They think that just because I was able to remove to Chip, I'm some kind of miracle. I'm not. At the end of the day, I'm just a girl who stupidly missed curfew and accidentally lost her Chip.

A single tear slides down my cheek. People are hyping me up to be something I'm not. I'm just a scared fifteen-year-old girl that has no idea what she's doing.

I slowly climb off the mattress not wishing to awaken Eva. Since she's practically dead to the world, she doesn't. Slowly, I creep out of the room, feeling my way through the short hallway. Paint chips onto my fingers and I grimace, allowing the pieces to flutter to the ground.

Moonlight creeps through the back door. It's a sliding door, and it's only covered by a curtain. I'm curious as to why this is, but I think I know. That garden has been tended. That's probably Teresa's hobby; gardening. I think it's lovely that someone in this technology ridden world is taking care of nature.

On a wooden desk by the sliding door sits a notebook. Unable to resist, I rush over to it, quietly ripping out a page. The sound of ripping paper causes me to flinch, constantly scanning my surroundings. However, no one awakens and I smile, picking up the pen next to it.

I slightly pull back the curtain and slide my back down the cool glass. The light is enough to illuminate the paper, which I press against my knees. It feels good to write again, even amidst the chaos around me. I'm also surprised Teresa has paper, as it's considered 'outdated'. Then again, it's not a device, so it's untraceable.

Autumn leaves cascaded from trees.

Children's laughter stung like bees.

I was bitter,

there because I needed a sitter.

Now, I sit in silence,

here amidst such violence.

It's all because of me.

That's why it came to be.

A tear splatters onto the paper, causing the ink to slightly bleed.

Now, I'd do anything to hear her laugh again.

Alas, I don't have her with me, just a pen.