My mother had told me once that we were all part of society.
We may not play such a big role, but we were part of it - and we mattered enough for the higher-ups to pay attention to us. It was the same in the institute. We were only a part of it as much as it was a part of us. We didn't matter to each other all that much. We were just there, together, and we were never going to be able to accept the situation we were in.
The institute and its people - they were as dead as I was.
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"Woah, are you okay?"
"I just tripped. That's all."
"You look pale."
"We all do."
"You're warm."
"What?"
"You're sick."
"I haven't been able to eat."
"God, Blair. Please don't do this to yourself."
"I'm not doing anything. They're doing this to me. They're responsible."
YOU ARE READING
Systems
Mystery / Thriller"We all have systems within ourselves. Sometimes we fight against them, but sometimes we accept them. You're stuck in the middle." this is for the young writers prize [ rebellion ] short story #553 || mystery/thriller #204