A Beautiful Reflection From Firework Eyes

I've Been Up Here So Long, I'm Going Crazy

The aliens said I had to upload chapter two today so here you go. 

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(Now)

Every day is the same. It has been, at least for the last few months. Same gray walls, same gray metal bed frames nailed into the wall. Same rough cement gray ground. Same heavy iron bolted door, same frosted window. Same flickering light bulbs. Same lingering damp smell. I trace my fingers over the ridges in the cement, doing what I do every day. There's not much else to keep me occupied. Not anymore, at least.

There are at least a few others here. I don't know much about them—I've never seen them. All I've heard is their screams. I wonder what they're like. Some days, when there's nothing to do, I imagine what they're like. Maybe they're like me, teenagers trapped here alone. Maybe one of them was rich, had a mansion and a private plane. Or maybe they were like me, dragged off the streets, dropped here, and left alone.

I stand up, pacing back and forth across the small room. Once in a while, they give us books or puzzles or something to do, but right now, I don't have anything. There are two twin beds in my room—the one on the right has been unused for a few months at this point. It still hurts to look at it. A few gray towels hang on a rack next to the door, a few water bottles balanced on a small ledge jutting out beside them. There are quite a few hiding places that the guards haven't found yet. We used to stash small things there, a first aid kit, a pencil, a few loose sheets of paper, a rubber ball. If I had a marker, I would draw over the plain gray walls, maybe put tally marks like they do in prison. At least it would give me something to do other than stare at the lonely gray walls all day.

I'm honestly surprised I haven't lost my mind yet. Maybe I have, and I just can't tell. I used to dream of colors. Vibrant reds and blues. Luscious green trees and beautiful stretching skies. But now it's as if the gray has leaked even into my unconsciousness. All I can dream of are the four gray walls that surround me every day. And the orange and red flames burning everything down. At least they're colorful.

The buzzer sounds and I look up in surprise from where I'm sitting on my bed, my head in my hands. It's too early for meals. Usually, they don't come for me this early. My time slot is later in the day. But I jump to my feet all the same, just as the door swings open and a boy is pushed in.

He lands on his knees on the floor, his dark hair falling across his face. He's dressed in the same uniform I am—a blue t-shirt and blue shorts, a dark number printed across the back. He's shaking—terrified, I assume. I was too when I was new.

"Subject M-37, subject M-49 will be sharing this room with you," the guard says. He doesn't give me any time to respond before slamming the door shut and sliding the heavy lock into place. I stare at the new boy in shock before I shake my head, snapping myself out of my daze. I guess it was about time for me to get a new roommate. After Jaime—I shake my head again. I can't think about that right now. Not when there's a new boy who might need me.

I drop to my knees next to the new boy, reaching out to touch his shoulder. "Are you okay?" My voice is a bit hoarse from not speaking for over a day.

He flinches from my touch, looking up at me. "Yeah," he says. His voice is soft and shaking slightly as he brushes his hair away from his face.

"I'm not gonna hurt you," I say, holding my hand out to him. "I'm Vic."

"I'm Kellin," he says, taking my outstretched hand, a smile flickering onto his lips for a moment before it slips away.