Page 5

You are thrown into the midst of a group of children. Some are younger, some are older, but you don’t really care. You stare at the ground, hearing screams and feeling the rain coming down on you, but not taking any notice. The world is bleak and grey. Your parents have just been taken from you and you’re probably never seeing them again.

       You feel a baton ram into your elbow, and hear a command to follow the other children. You follow dully.

       You don’t know how long you walk for. It could be hours. It could be minutes. All you see is the muddy ground in front of you. All you feel is the rain, beating down harder than ever, like little bullets dropping from the sky.

       You bump into someone and stop. You look up. You are in a wooden building, long, low and dark. Old, mangy beds are pushed against the wall. Tiny, weak splotches of light trickle in through thin windows.

       The door slams shut behind you.

       You find an empty bed and sit down. You stare at a crumpled ball of newspaper for an eternity, oblivious to the cries of the children around you.

       You want to use your pencil to write down what’s happened, but you can’t shake the feeling of apathy that consumes you.

       An officer is yelling for you to come out. He’s telling you you’ll get to see your parents again.

       But first, you have to have a shower.

The End

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