Short Story

...

on well without me. I can only hope.

I can just picture them, my broken little family in our homey shack. I feel my chest tighten at the thought of them. I did everything for them. My beautiful little sisters. I just want them to be able to grow up in a world where they can become whoever they want to be through hard work, no matter where or who they were born to. My mom hated my rebellion from the protectors but still supported me. She taught me that we are all the same inside. If you’re a protector, a settler, if you’re black, white, it doesn’t matter, on the inside you’re still flesh and bones, just like everyone else. That’s why I try to respect everyone. Even though some power-hungry people decided to develop some invisible walls between us, above all, we are all human beings. My heart cries for them as I fade into a restless sleep.

The next morning starts early, right at dawn, with mushy brown grains for breakfast. They then select one person from each room to come with a protector in the morning. I am chosen to go with the them. They lead us to the largest building in the whole compound and down a long hallway. I am put into a small room and strapped to a chair. I knew I was either about to be tortured or brainwashed.

After a few minutes of sitting in the chair, steam began to hiss from the walls. I was being drugged again. I soon felt loopy and strange. A screen in front of me flashed to life and showed images of protectors helping people in settlements. Pictures of people smiling, of protectors hugging children instead of drugging and beating them. A voice droned on from a speaker somewhere but I wasn’t able to understand what it was saying. The whole experience felt strange and distant. I was in a trance and I felt like my mind was being forcibly opened. When they finally let me leave, I was thrown back into my room. My head ached and I felt faint. I kept thinking over and over the phrase We have already achieved peace. I would never say a thing like that. This roller coaster of artificial emotions and thoughts made my head spin. I spent my second night hugging my knees to my chest and crying to myself in a sad little ball on my bed.

...

In the compound, days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months. I’ve been here for so long now that the idea of staying another day sickens me. Some have broken down under the pressure. They’ve asked to be exterminated. My head aches daily and I feel as if my brain is trying to escape from my skull. But enough is enough. We must fight back tonight. There’s a meeting being held during shower time.

The meeting begins in the co-ed bathroom with all of us trying to act normally as to not arouse suspicion. A girl with short blonde hair begins talking.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but I can’t take this anymore. If I stay here much longer my brain will be nothing but protector-loving mush,” she says sternly.

A rush of agreements spread through the room. Others begin to share their discomforts and plans. Many are urging violent strategies. This surprises me. These same kids are people that I’ve talked to about how violent action only ends in more war, never any peace. But I suppose these are desperate days.

“I don’t think violence is the answer,” I say suddenly, having to get it off my chest, “They’re stronger than us. I think we need another solution.”

All around be is a roar of disagreements. They begin to ignore me and plan for an uprising. I watch in disbelief at the scene. They plan on striking later tonight. I pull Winston by the arm to the other side of the room and whisper to him urgently.

“When they begin, we have to run to the walls and wait for the raid to stop. There will be lots of bloodshed tonight, but I don’t want yours on my hands”

He nods, looking dumbfounded. He has become my closest friend over these past few months in the compound and I can’t imagine the pain of seeing him killed. I’m glad he agrees. We walk out of the room nonchalantly and wait anxiously in our room.

The raid begins as we’re being brought out to dinner. Kids with makeshift weapons run past the protectors, as do we. We run to the corner of the walls and duck for cover. I hear the gunshots from the protectors in the distance. I hear children crying out for their parents. We stay there for hours it seems. I keep thinking this is the end. A pebble hits my shoulder as the aircraft above us shake the ground and walls. Suddenly from the outside I feel the ground shake even harder from bombs blowing up one of the stone walls. Once the airmen land, they rush into the compound and take all the bodies of the slaughtered teenagers away with them. Winston and I stay crouching in the corner of the walls through the night, and I feel like I just experienced something out of a movie, the incredulity of the situation shaking me to my core. We leave the destroyed remains of the compound as the air clears and sit down on the grassy hills, a seemingly whole new world I had forgotten above laying before my eyes.

The sun rise was like nothing I had ever seen before. The beautiful pink and orange sky painted over the horrors of the night. I sat with my friend, side by side, not waiting, just watching. Two little red birds flew above us, their rhythmic dance eye catching. The night was finally over. Day break had broken. This was just one compound and we we’re just kids, one out of many. But still, this destroyed compound inspired hope and revolution back into my bones, my soul. I was not sure what tomorrow held, but today held light. And the light washed over us, two teenage boys who believed in a brighter world, day by day.