SCOLIOSIS. Such a big word for such a small person; for a young mind, a fragile heart, and a broken girl. I was seven when I was brought to Amenity, I was one of the first. I couldn't pronounce the word for the longest time. Too many syllables, I once told myself, but I know now that I was afraid of the word.
I was afraid of the cold, gloved fingers that brushed my spine, the white coats, and the needles. All of the tests, and the pain, and the whirring of machines. The Doctors hand-picked me out of a crowd of children from my school and used a health ailment against me. Against all of us.
I wasn't in control of what happened, they had called my condition 'idiopathic', meaning unknown, a mystery. My condition was a mystery, yet it was the only thing that had made sense. I touched my fingers to my nose and blood slipped across my fingers. The stress of the experiment must have made it bleed.
Two guards lugged me from the room and into a cell. My face and body hit the cool, concrete ground and it felt refreshing. My limbs were heavy and my body ached. I moved from the floor and sat on the bench attached to the wall with my knees pulled to my chest.
The Choice was just an excuse to pick the most vulnerable off, the ones with the greatest genetic problems. I wondered why they chose August for these select experiments, what made him impure?
It looked like I was about to get my answer. The door opened and a tall, dark-skinned boy was pushed inside. The door was shut with a slam as he looked up at me with pleading eyes.
"Hi,"
I gave a half wave.
"I'm August, your name is Maria." he scratched the back of his neck. "I knew your name because they called it for the project, not because I stalked or watched you . . . well, I did watch you, but not—"
"It's okay. And nice to meet you," I offered him a hand and I moved over, so that he could sit next to me.
"How are you? With your back thing I mean," he asked as he took a seat next to me.
"My 'back thing' is called scoliosis, an abnormal lateral curvature of the spine."
"Oh, I'm sorry if I was insensitive, I never saw anything like that before."
"Why are you here?" I asked, staring at my combat boots.
"Cystic fibrosis, I was diagnosed when I was nine. The Doctors found me and brought me to Amenity two days after my birthday,"
"That must hurt."
"It looks like you're in more pain than I am, you're bleeding." he said, raising his hand to just above my eyebrow.
I shuddered at his touch and focused my attention to the wall in front of us.
"I'm sorry,"
"You apologize too much," I said plainly.
We sat in silence for the next fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes was all that they gave you before the next experiment. Three in one day, poking and prodding to see if they will have some incredible breakthrough as to why individuals are still born with genetic impurities—diseases, physical abnormalities, learning disabilities.
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