This is the second day I've spent underground with my mother. It's hard to believe it's been two days. Has my heart really been thundering like this for 48 hours?
I want to believe she's down here because she loves me and is willing to risk everything to keep me safe, but I'm not sure that's true. My disorder is genetic, which means she could be dubbed "imperfect", too, if she's found. Then we'd both be killed (or worse, enslaved), so she's in this bunker for her own safety, not just mine.
But, she doesn't have any of my symptoms; she doesn't have the memory loss or the back pain that's soon to be followed by a crooked spine and abnormal gait. Maybe there's a chance they'd even let her go as a reward for turning me in. If that chance does exist, would she take it? Will she?
I hate to think these things about my own mother. Again, it's only been two days since the Perfect America Bill was signed into law. Two days and I already expect my own mother--the woman who took me back under her wing and cared for me when my symptoms first manifested a year ago--to turn me over to the authorities for a chance at getting back to her normal life.
Two days. I hope I'm still here for the third.
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The Imperfect's Journal: 1
General FictionThis is the journal of Darren Stratt, an "imperfect" who is being hunted in America due to a new law which has stripped disadvantaged individuals--now called "imperfects"--of their rights. In Darren's journal, he documents the horrors of a world run...
