In the morning the siren startles me. I had barely more than two of hours sleep last night, and my eyes are crusted over and gluey. But the thought of June forces my aching limbs to move.
In the living room, I find June sitting at the table. For a moment, I cannot do anything but stand there, breath hitched in my throat. She glances up at me, eyebrows raised.
‘Breakfast won’t kill you, believe it or not,’ she says matter-of-factly.
They wiped her memory again. They really did. I stand motionless for a fraction of a second longer, gathering all my thoughts. And I bury them.
I am sitting on the windowsill. It is nearly curfew and the light is casting deep shadows across the concrete. It is the first moment I have had all day to just think.
I sat with a few of the people in my class today, but I became more of a background figure, simply watching. The teacher spoke all day again and I neglected to take any notes. He was talking about the war again, but also about our world. I think I knew most of it, but it felt old, like a lost concept. When he spoke about the cities, the one’s that were bombed and the ones that were burnt, it didn’t feel like history, more like a story. He also talked about before, how the animal populations were already unstable but the war pushed most species into extinction.
Everything here seems to be divided into two categories. Before the war and after the war.
I need this moment. I am struggling to get a grip on the reality of this place. It feels so… fake. Too empty and too bare, without the details filled in. This place is like a child’s drawing, left unfinished. Walls not painted in and the people hollow. Looking down, my hand looks almost transparent in this light. The orange rays seem to ignore the tanned skin, only touching the flesh beneath.
And June. They knew she was different, and they took her.
A shadow passes over me.
I jump back, my eyes darting up. For a moment I am frozen, eyes wary and muscles tense. Then Ty peers around the corner of the window frame.
I roll my eyes and slump back down. He is grinning widely, but the corners of my mouth barely twitch. Carefully, I push open the window, glancing around quickly to see if anyone was behind me. But there is no one, everyone in their rooms.
‘Were you scared of me?’ he says, with mocking innocence.
‘Do you have something to tell me?’ I ask bluntly.
He sighs theatrically but doesn’t argue. ‘Here,’ He says, handing me a small slip of paper. ‘Learn it, memorise it, then rip it up and chuck it down a drain. If someone found that, we would be dead by morning.’ I nod, quickly scanning the note. I look up at him sceptically.
‘This seems too basic.’
He laughs. ‘Have you seen this place? They don’t need intense security simply because the population is so law-abiding. There hasn’t been a crime here ever. At least not what I have heard of. Its almost unnatural how perfectly content this place is. I mean, before the war, the jails were overflowing, and now they don’t even exist. I suppose it must be something to do with being, like, grateful or something. Or maybe scared that if they disrupt the system they’ll go Insane,’ he shrugs. ‘Good for you though. Only reason you can do it at all.’
‘You should go,’ I say, and he glances up at the sky.
‘Well, bye.’ And he is gone, sprinting down the street until he is consumed by the shadows.
YOU ARE READING
The Insane Boy
Ficção CientíficaThere is nothing left. Cities have collapsed, forests have burnt, minds have been warped into insanity. And humanity is to blame. The few struggling survivors are taken in by the facility, an organisation that promises prosperity in this dead world...
