Another dream. I stare at the ceiling of the bedroom. Escaping from the window is shatters of light that dapple the covers of the bedsheets, tossed to the side of my fragile body. My eyes flutter with sleep that still lingers, though my heart is pounding underneath my short-sleeve.
It was only recently I began to have dreams. Ones that I could have sworn were real. Almost every day, ever I would think about stealing food to feed my siblings from the Division who beholds the luxury any human would yearn to have.
My name is Hailey Reeves. Personally, I think to believe that I am selfless, and I hold a fierce personality. In less than one year, I will be one out of a large number of adolescents who will fight their way to find themselves out of a maze in a week. The Keepers tell us this will predict our future;
If we cannot escape the maze, we are stuck. Then, -- whether we like it or not -- we become apart of of Division 2.
If we can escape, then we are free. Live in luxury with those apart of Division 3.
As of now, I still need to be determined. I am fourteen years old. When I am fifteen, I will be exposed to the maze. I do not know what I will have to face, or what happens.
The Keepers tell me that I was born with Division 3, so it is named. I have never saw what it looks like; They have never given personal information about any Division. Not even how the civilization is like.
I swing my legs over the bedside. Slowly, I arch my back forward and lift myself up. I stare at the cold cement flooring from the bunk bed I sit atop. Through my worse dreams, I have been told I was tossling and turning too much at night. I didn't quite believe it until I fell. The impact had given me a bruised knee. What's funny though, is how I can never truly realize I'm dreaming until I'm welcome by the musky air of the shared room I sleep in.
Grabbing the side of the doorway, I turn my body to lean against it.
"Hailey?" a familiar voice calls.
I turn my head, and groan. Though a wide smile is visible over my lips.
"What do you want?" I ask, as if I've no clue what she wants. Madison raises her eyebrow. We both own narrow faces, with a nose that curves outwards. But that is where our similarities end. Her hair is cut short and ash brown, while she has cheekbones that are higher than mine with light blue eyes that are lined with long eyelashes. She is prettier than me, that's a fact.
For starters, my hair is long, and dark golden brown with a few distincive highlights. The irises of my eyes are a pale hazel. Honestly, I don't know what else I could describe myself as. So far, the best I can say is that I'm your average teenager.
"We need to eat breakfast." Madison states. I roll my eyes.
"Madison, isn't that obvious? We would get in trouble if we don't." I responded. Though I am laughing, I am curious. What happens when we miss a meal? The Keepers have always told us to eat every meal, or else we will not be able to make it through the day properly; at our best.
In response, she only shrugs. "I'm not kidding. Ever since you've been having your little dreams, you would always be waking up later. They're only serving breakfast for one more hour."
I sigh. Even though she leaves me and I am left alone, I stay. I know I should be following, because training starts at 10:00.
Where I am, accompanied by those who are younger than 15, is nowhere close to my old Division. We're told that here in the Dome, our safety is crucial to the Keepers.
You are all very important to us, as we should be to you. Here in the Dome, your safety is well-secured and in return for this security, you are expected to follow our regulations until the very day -- I pause, mid-though as I train my eyes onto the floor. As I recall the passage they've said to us on our 10th birthday, I wonder. What dangers are we supposed to be secured from?
